Breathless (Steel Brothers Saga #10)(61)

“Where’s Joe?” I asked.

“Should be right behind me,” Bryce said. “Jade sent us straight out here.”

“I need to get back to the kitchen,” I said weakly.

Still, he held on to my arm.

“Okay?” I pulled out of his grasp.

“Oh, sure. Sorry.” His cheeks reddened.

I turned quickly and raced to the kitchen, where Jade was mixing up the salad. I set to work slicing tomatoes and onions, the latter making my eyes water.

Just what I didn’t need.

Joe walked up the stairs from the family room, carrying two martinis. “Hey, Sis,” he said halfheartedly, and then he walked outside.

Huh. Joe seemed a little off, as if his thoughts were somewhere else.

I had too much else to think about, though, so I slotted it into the back of my mind and continued preparing the condiments for the burgers. When I was done, I grabbed the tray, took it outside, and set it on the table.

Talon was finishing up the first batch of burgers, and Ryan popped open a few bottles of his house red.

“Come and get it,” Talon said.

First in line was Donny, of course. The little boy loved to eat. I looked around for Dale. He’d been out here earlier. I went back in and walked back to the boys’ room. The door was open, so I knocked gently and walked in. “Dale?”

“Yeah?” He lay on his bed, his nose in a book.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“I’m not too hungry.”

“It’s your dad’s burgers,” I said. “The best around.”

He didn’t reply.

“All your aunts and uncles are out there. They want to see you.”

“They’re not really my aunts and uncles,” he said sullenly.

I lifted my brows. This was new. Though Dale hadn’t taken to his new family quite as quickly as Donny had, he’d come around. Where was this coming from?

“Of course they are. And next week, we’re going to court—”

“None of it matters. My real mom is dead. And my real dad is… I never had one.”

“Dale—”

“Just go away. I don’t want any supper, okay?”

I sighed. “I know you had a rough day, Dale. I’m sorry.” I left the room quietly, leaving the door as it was. I’d send Talon in. Talon had been the best at getting through to Dale.

Or maybe Mel. She’d been working with him.

I sighed again. I didn’t know what the heck to do. Best get Talon. He was back at the grill, and who was standing next to him? Bryce.

Of course.

I touched Talon’s arm to get his attention. “Dale’s in his room. He’s upset.”

Talon nodded. “I’m there. Can you man the grill?” he said to Bryce.

“Sure, though I’m hardly a chef.”

“Marj can help you. She can cook anything.”

Great. As much as I loved cooking, I never thought it could be used against me. Then again, Talon didn’t know what had gone on between Bryce and me. I’d sworn Jade to secrecy. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll help.”

“What do I do?” Bryce asked after Talon had gone inside.

“You know? You don’t have to stay here. I’ll take care of the grill. I can do it in my sleep.”

“He asked me to do it, so I’ll do it,” Bryce replied almost tersely.

Okay, then. “It’s easy. Just keep your eye on them. When you see the edges start to brown, flip them over.”

“Then what?”

“Then you wait until they feel done.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I touched my middle finger to my thumb. “For medium rare, it feels like this. Press the spatula to the burger.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know how else to explain it. You’ll get the hang of it. The second side only takes about three minutes. Just let me do it.”

“Nope.”

Such stubbornness! Until it dawned on me. Maybe he wanted to talk to me. Be with me.

Problem was, I had no idea what to say. Until I spied Joe by himself, looking…strange, sipping his martini. An empty glass sat next to him on the table. Had he brought out both drinks for himself? I’d assumed one was for Bryce.

“What’s up with Joe?” I asked Bryce.

“Joe’s fine,” Bryce said, again tersely.

“Since when does he start with two drinks?”

Bryce cleared his throat. Tersely. “You’d have to ask him.”

“I’m asking you. You were with him today. He doesn’t seem like himself.” As a matter of fact, Bryce didn’t seem like himself either. Not that I could tell, really. He’d been an enigma since his father died.

“He’s fine. And I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask about you.”

He huffed and looked down at the grill, poking the edge of the spatula into the burgers. Red juice flowed out.

“Don’t do that,” I admonished. “They’ll dry up. You want the juices trapped inside.”

“But you said—”

“I said press the flat part of the spatula against it to gauge the feel of the meat. Don’t cut into it.”