Page 14 of A Taste of Whiskey
“Okay,” he said reluctantly.
“Let’s get breakfast so we’re not late.”
Ezra drove to the main house and parked in front of the massive stone, wood, and glass building, which looked more like a resort than offices and residential space where everyone who worked and lived on the ranch gathered for meals. Everything about Redemption Ranch promoted the concept of family and support, right down to the homey environment. The main house boasted a large two-story gathering area, a movie room, offices and conference rooms, a large open dining area with several farmhouse-style tables and a pass-through to the enormous kitchen. On the second level there were bedrooms for younger clients who were going through their programs. Adult clients stayed in cabins on the property.
Ezra pocketed his keys as they walked up to the door.
“Dad, there’s Sully’s bike! When can I learn to ride a bike?” Gus asked.
Sully had missed out on a lot of typical childhood activities because she’d grown up in a cult, and Cowboy made sure she got a chance to experience them all. She’d been as happy as a kid at Christmas when she’d learned to ride a bike, and she’d been riding one on the ranch ever since.
“Soon, buddy,” he said as they headed inside.
They were greeted by a cacophony of conversation and laughter coming from the dining area. Having grown up as an only child, the noisy, banter-filled mealtimes were among Ezra’s favorite things about the ranch. But today he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to talk to Sasha and clear the air. The sinful dream he’d had about her last night hadn’t helped. Especially since he could still see it in vivid detail. He doubted he’d ever forget the images he’d conjured of her luscious mouth wrapped around his cock as he came down her throat, and lying beneath him naked as he pounded into her, his name sailing from her lips like a fucking prayer.
“Come on, Dad!” Gus ran down the hall to their right toward the dining room.
Cursing himself for getting lost in that damn dream again, he called after Gus, “Slow down,” but his little boy was already making his way around the dining room, as he did most mornings, calling out hellos to everyone by name. Between the Whiskeys, the ranch hands, the other staff, and their current live-in clients, the place was packed, and they all responded to his eager little boy withHey, Gus, orGood morning, buddy, followed by greetings for Ezra.
“Hi, Tiny! Whatcha got?” Gus climbed into Tiny’s lap.
Sasha’s father, Tommy “Tiny” Whiskey was a big, bearded biker at about six four with a pendulous belly, arms full of ink, weathered skin, and keen eyes. He had long gray hair, which he always wore in a ponytail with a bandanna tied around his forehead. Ezra had never seen him without his black leather vest, proudly displaying Dark Knights patches on the back. Tiny looked hard despite his soft physique, and he was one of the physically and emotionally strongest, most loyal, no-bullshit men Ezra had ever met.
Ezra owed Tiny a hell of a lot, and he felt another stab of guilt for fantasizing about doing filthy things to his daughter. Once Ezra had gotten past his teenage rebellious anger and had finallylistenedwhen people spoke, Tiny had taught him more than a thing or two abouthowto love, and about family, loyalty, and brotherhood. Tiny wasn’t much of a talker, but his words always mattered, and you could feel his emotions from across a ravine. Ezra learned by watching him show Wynnie affection every time he walked by with a wink, a touch, or even a smile, by the way he pulled out chairs for her and supported her in her every endeavor. Even the way they argued when their opinions differed reflected love and respect. The way Tiny watched out for his family and friends was equally tangible. Ezra knew his father loved him even if he wasn’t good at expressing it. He also knew his mother had loved him when she’d lived with them. Maybe she still did—he couldn’t be sure. If she did, it wasn’t a type of love he wanted to emulate. But he knew one thing for certain. He never would have learned how to express his love, how to forgive, or how to move on without Tiny’s and Wynnie’s help.
He caught Tiny’s eye and motioned to Gus, silently asking,Want me to get him?
Tiny waved a hand dismissively, his mustache and beard twitching with his grin as he handed Gus a piece of bacon.
Ezra headed for the buffet and saw Sasha chatting with Sully at their usual table with Dare, Billie, Doc, and a few ranch hands. Beside Sasha were his and Gus’s empty seats. There was so much comfort in that, and in the whole family atmosphere, sometimes he couldn’t believe he was the same person who had felt like he didn’t fit anywhere. That was even more of a reason he needed to clear the air with Sasha. He didn’t want anything to come between them.
Doc’s black Lab, Mighty, brushed against Ezra’s leg, drawing him from his thoughts. He petted him. “How’s it going, Mighty?”
“Mighty!” Gus scrambled off Tiny’s lap, and the dog trotted over to him. Gus’s giggles filled the air.
Sasha looked over, her eyes connecting with Ezra’s. He lifted his chin, and she smiled, holding his gaze so long, it felt like it was becoming their new normal. He couldn’t think about that too much, or he’d start to question his decision to respect the fact that she was off-limits.
He stopped by the table where Taz, Hyde, and Sasha’s cousin, Rebel—who didn’t live or work at the ranch, but like Birdie, often showed up for free meals—were joking with some of the other ranch hands and residents, including two of Ezra’s clients: Paul, a thirty-eight-year-old woodworker who had spent the last twelve years incarcerated for selling drugs and was trying to make amends with his family and regain his footing in society, and Mike, who at twenty-four was eight months clean and sober. He had a two-year-old son and a wife whose trust he was trying to regain. Good men who had gone through hard times. Thankfully, they were doing well in the program.
“Morning, guys.” He looked at Paul and Mike. “Are these guys giving you a hard time?”
“Nah, mate,” Taz said. “We’re only messing around with them.”
“Everything’s cool,” Paul said, and Mike nodded in agreement.
“A’right. I’ll see you guys later.” He joined Cowboy and Wynnie at the buffet, which was stocked with delicious foods. He grabbed a plate for himself and one for Gus. “Looks like Dwight outdid himself this morning.” Dwight Cornwall, a retired navy commander, had been the resident manager and cook for as long as Ezra could remember.
“Doesn’t he always?” Cowboy bit into a biscuit and put two more on his plate. He was as tall as Tiny but as solid as stone, and he’d earned those muscles and that appetite from the endless hours he spent toiling on the ranch. “Are we still on for eleven?”
“Sure are.” Cowboy oversaw the therapy clients who worked in the field, and he met with Ezra weekly to go over their progress.
Cowboy nodded. “I’ll see you at the table.”
“Honey, don’t forget, you and Dare said you’d start cleaning out the big barn this afternoon for the wedding,” Wynnie reminded him. She hadn’t changed much over the years. She still wore her blond hair in a short shag, favored jeans and cowgirl boots over skirts or dresses, and was as warm and straightforward as a person could be.
“We’re on it, Mom,” Cowboy said. “Ez, how late are you working?”
“My last meeting is at three. I can be out of here by four fifteen. Why?”
