“He’s always had something to come home to,” I say. “He loves you both very much.”
“He does. And his brother and sisters,” Jade agrees. “But Talon’s right. You’ve given him a reason not to be alone.”
“I’m not so sure I have. He left me after his birth father died.”
Neither one of them says anything to that at first.
Until, “I was surprised by that,” Talon says. “Perhaps Floyd meant more to Dale than he let on.”
“I don’t know, Tal,” Jade says. “It is odd, come to think of it.”
“Not odd that he left, though,” Talon says. “He does that sometimes, and often we have no idea why. But odd that he’d do it during fire season after a man he claims meant nothing to him passed.”
I mull over Talon’s words.
Knowing what I do about my own father, I certainly feel nothing when I ponder that he’s gone forever. Of course, Dale’s birth father didn’t rape his mother. Just abandoned her and their two children.
Are there degrees of heinousness?
This is too much to think about when all I want to do is get back to Dale’s, snuggle with Penny, and lie in bed and hope sleep will come.
“He’s still his father,” I say. “No disrespect to you, of course.”
Talon nods. “None taken. In some ways, blood may be thicker than water.”
Jade takes his hand. “You’re his father. He’d be lost without you.”
“Thank you, blue eyes. I know that. If I died, he’d be a lot worse off. That’s what makes me think…”
“What?” Jade asks.
“Floyd wanted to see Dale. He must have told him something that upset him.”
“And then he dropped dead?” I say without thinking. “Sorry, that kind of just popped out.”
“He knew he didn’t have a lot of time,” Talon says. “What if there’s something he was keeping from Dale and Donny? That he needed them to know?”
“What, though?” Jade says. “He already abandoned them and their mother. What else could he possibly have to say to them?”
“I don’t know”—Talon rubs the stubble on his jawline—“but why else would Dale be so distraught over the man’s death?”
I have no answer to Talon’s question, but something must have happened between Dale and his birth father. Why else would Dale take off the way he did?
“I should go,” I say. “Dale may still come home tonight.”
Talon nods. “Johnson already called. He wanted to camp for the night, but Dale insisted he was going to keep going.”
“Sounds like Dale.” Jade smiles.
“He’ll want to check on the vines,” I say absently. “He’ll be home tonight.”
Talon takes a sip of his after-dinner bourbon. “He may, but Ashley…”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t expect too much out of him when he gets home. He’s safe, but the Syrah…”
“I know.” I swallow.
Losing even part of the Syrah will kill Dale.
I need to be there for him.
I jerk upward in Dale’s bed as Penny scrambles out of the room.
Someone’s here, but Penny’s not barking, so it must be—
I scurry out of bed and wrap a robe over my pajamas. I run out of the room. “Dale?”
He’s here.
Walking toward me. More like stalking toward me. His blond hair is a mass of tangles around his unshaven face.
His lips are parted.
And his eyes…
His eyes are green and…feral. Primal. Animalistic.
“Dale…” I say again.
“Get back in bed,” he says.
“But I—”
“I said get back in bed.” His voice is the familiar darkness of Syrah, but this time with a black velvet cloak covering it. He stalks closer to me, and with every inch he closes between us, I tremble.
From fear?
From arousal?
From…
From both, but also from something else. Something more.
“Dale, please. I’m so sorry.”
“Do I have to repeat myself, Ashley? I’ve told you twice now to get back in bed. If you don’t, I’m going to fuck you up against this wall.”
Shudders rack through me. Yes, I want to go back to bed. And yes, I want him to fuck me up against this wall.
Here. Now. Hard and fast.
He’s angry. He’s exhausted. He’s grimy with dirt, and he smells of the woods. Of the fire. Of all that is wild and primitive.
And I swear, I’ve never wanted him more.
He’s an animal, as if he transformed in some way through this experience. I should tell him to shower first. I should say no. I should hold him and comfort him and tell him I love him. That everything will be okay. That I understand the loss he’s bearing, and that I’m bearing it too.
But I don’t.
I stand, his for the taking.
“I warned you,” he growls, cloaking me in red-wine ruggedness.
He grips my shoulders and pushes me against the wall. Then he shoves the robe over my shoulders and to the floor. I stand before him in a white cotton tank and red-and-white checkered pajama bottoms. That’s all that separates my naked body from this madman.
He curls his fist around the neckline of my tank top. Again, a growl rumbles from him, and then he yanks the shirt so harshly that it tears. He adds his other hand and rips the fabric in two, exposing my breasts.