by Tawna Fenske
“Who are you here to kill?”
He doesn’t look up. Just concentrates on reassembling his weapon. I’m torn between hoping he blows his face off and praying he doesn’t drop it and get hurt.
Once, when I was thirteen, Dante tackled a man who tried to grab my mother in a crowded market. Back then, Dante couldn’t have been more than twenty, though the Duke loved to crow about the military expertise of his right-hand man. Maybe Dante’s older than I think. The asshole big brother I always wished for, though I never envisioned a sibling with his own personal arsenal.
He’s still not saying anything, which makes my mind run wild. Maybe he’s here to kill me. I don’t think so, but I’m hardly an expert in predicting hitman behavior.
Because that’s what Dante is. A hired gun. A killer. A bodyguard. Lord knows which capacity he’s acting in now, which is why I need to get to the bottom of this.
“Dante!”
“I said d—”
“I don’t care about using your name!” I shout the words, demanding to be heard. To hell with his stupid rules. “Why. Are. You. Here?”
I clap with each syllable, trying to sound fierce. Instead, I sound like a child playing patty-cake. My hands are still shaking, so I shove them in my pockets just as Dante meets my eye.
“It’s nice here,” he deadpans. “Maybe I needed a vacation.”
I throw my hands in the air and produce an exasperated sound I’m sure I’ve never made before. “There are more than a dozen luxury resorts in Dovlano!” I yell. “Thousands across Europe. There is absolutely no reason for you to be here, at this one, in the middle of nowhere Oregon.”
For a long time, he regards me with an expression I can’t read. When he finally speaks, his voice lacks any trace of emotion. “A pig.”
I blink. “What?”
“You’re adopting a pig. Interesting choice.”
It’s not a question because he already knows the answer. “How the hell do you—you know what? Never mind.” That’s the least of my concerns right now.
I’m debating how to address the rest when he speaks again. “Had a pig as a kid. Name was Elias.”
This is without a doubt the most random piece of trivia Dante has ever delivered, but I file it away. Interesting that he chose the Duke’s middle name for his childhood pet. Coincidence, or does it tie to what Dante shared ages ago about his childhood dreams of working in palace security?
He continues talking as though this is a normal conversation between two regular humans. “Did you know they’re hypoallergenic?” he asks. “Pigs, that is. Very clean animals, plus they’re the third-smartest animal on the planet.”
I stare at him. Thank God he’s not looking at me or he’d see me gaping like a dumbfounded little fool. “Dante, I—” Stopping myself, I recalibrate. “Wait. What are the top two smartest animals?”
“Dolphins,” he says without hesitating. “Chimpanzees.”
“Pretty sure those aren’t on my approved pet list.” Probably they fall under Bradley’s definition of exotic pets. Thinking of Doc Parker makes my face heat up, and again, I’m grateful Dante is so fixated on his blasted gun.
When he glances up, I jump. His laser-like eyes lock with mine. “Got something you want to tell me?”
“No.” I cross my arms again and fight to hold eye contact. “Got something you want to tell me?”
Why you’re here.
What you’re planning to do.
What you’ve already told the Duke and Duchess.
I say none of this out loud. If he can zip his lips, so can I. With my hands wedged in my armpits, I fight to keep Bradley’s face from my brain. I’ve wondered sometimes if Dante reads minds, and the last thing I want is for him to know I’ve got feelings for the handsome doctor.
Swallowing hard, I drop my hands to my sides. “Look, can you just leave? Please? I’m appealing to your sense of decency here.”
One edge of his mouth twitches. “It’s cute you think I have one.”
I close my eyes and fight the urge to scream. “Fine. Just—could you please stop following me around? It’s creepy.”
“No can do, princess.”
“Don’t fucking call me that.”
One eyebrow lifts. “Whatever you say, m’lady.”
“Go to hell, Dante.” I shout that last bit, making it clear I’ll call him whatever I want. “Fine. Stay here. Get a pedicure at the spa. Swim laps in the pool. Go horseback riding for all I care.”
He tilts his head, lamplight turning his ice-blue eyes to something paler. Colder. “They have horses?”
“Yes, they have horses. For God’s sa—”
“I always wanted to ride a horse.” He looks thoughtful, then picks up the gun again. “You can show yourself out.”
I glare at him, then flip two middle fingers at his bald head. He doesn’t see me, but it feels good anyway.
As I storm out of the cabin, I could swear I hear laughter behind me. I slam the door hard and stomp down the trail toward my cabin. The hell with him. The hell with my mother, too, and the Duke and—
“Izzy?”
Bree’s voice freezes me in my tracks. I whirl to face her, fixing my face into the closest approximation of normal I can muster.
She’s got her car keys in hand and a curious look on her face. “I thought that was you,” she says. “Out for a walk?”
“I—yes, a walk.” More like a march of fury, but if she’s buying it, that’s the story I’ll go with. “I had a lot on my mind.”
“Tell me about it.” She catches up to me in a few quick strides and trains a flashlight on the path in front of us. “We’ve got a group of eighteen women at the spa for pre-wedding pampering, but the bride pulled a no-show and everyone started panicking and—” She shakes her head. “Never mind. Crisis averted, that’s the short story. What’s on your mind?”
“Oh, um. Nothing.” No way she’s buying that. “Bradley,” I blurt. “Just thinking about Bradley.” At least that’s partly true.
Her face breaks into a grin as we start walking again. “How did your farm date go?”
“Fine.” God, was that only a few hours ago? “Lovely, actually.” Heat spreads over my face and I feel the confession bubbling up.
Bree picks right up on it. “Any more kissing?”
I must look mortified because she laughs and bumps me softly with her elbow. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. Just remembering what you shared earlier.”
It’s all I can do not to glance behind us at Dante’s cabin. We’re far enough away, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have listening devices planted all over the resort.
But if that’s true, he already knows about the kiss. He knew about Kevin, didn’t he?
“Bradley kissed me.” I whisper the words and edge closer to my sister on the walking path. “I kissed him the first time, but this time he kissed me.”
She flashes a broad smile and throws me a conspiratorial wink. “Ah, early love. I remember that stage fondly.”
“Oh, we’re hardly in love.” I suppose I could imagine that under normal circumstances, but these are hardly normal.
“I just meant the early stages of romance are so fun,” she says. “Every kiss feels monumental. Even more if you know you shouldn’t be doing it.”
I draw a sharp breath. Does she know about—
“Oh, you meant you and Austin?” I clear my throat. “Why weren’t you supposed to be kissing him?”
“Lots of reasons.” She directs the flashlight’s golden beam at a patch of ice on the path. “Most of them invalid in hindsight.”
“Like what?” Heavens, now I’m the one prying. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy.”
“No, it’s okay.” She shrugs then burrows her chin under her scarf. “I made some mistakes when I was younger. Big, life-altering mistakes. And I convinced myself that was the reason I could never date a law enforcement officer.”
“Oh.” Clearly, she moved past that. “B
ut things worked out in the end.”
“That they did.” She smiles and stops walking. “This is me.”
Bree aims her keys at a shape in the dark and hits a button. Her car gives a cheery chirp, but she keeps her eyes on my face.
“You know,” she says slowly. “Things have a way of working out, Iz.”
I nod, even though I don’t believe it. “Certainly.”
Her green eyes hold mine, so much like the eyes I see each morning in the mirror. How did I never know before what it feels like to have a sister?
When she touches my arm, I want to cry. “Whatever you’re working through—well, let me know if you want to talk.”
I nod again, feeling like one of those strange bobblehead dolls I’ve seen on dashboards in old movies. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She gives me a fierce hug, and I hug back, wishing like hell I could tell her.
Wishing my problems were as simple as she presumes.
“Do you mind if I swing by my doctor’s office really quickly?” Lily glances over at me in the passenger seat. “I just need to pick up a prescription.”
I’ve spent the whole day shopping with James’s gorgeous wife, who took it upon herself to help me update my wardrobe. I’m so grateful for the kindness that I’d cheerfully follow her into the clinic and donate the internal organ of her choice. “Of course,” I say. “Everything’s all right, I hope?”
“Definitely.” She grins and turns in to the parking lot. “Just restocking the carnal caplets.”
“Carnal caplets?” I’m unfamiliar with the phrase.
“Tubesteak tablets. Pleasure pellets.” Lily laughs and eases the car into a parking spot. “Birth control pills.” She flips her red hair out of her eyes and turns off the car. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Want me to leave the keys and keep the heater running?”
“Actually, I’d love to spread my legs.”
Lily cocks her head. “No judgment here, but—”
“Stretch my legs.” Good Lord, I can’t believe I just said that. “Exercise. That’s what I’m wanting.”
Her smile morphs into something much more mischievous as she flicks a glance at the sign on the front of the building. “I see. And your desire to get out of the car, coupled with sudden sexual thoughts, wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Dr. Parker’s office is right next door?”
My cheeks grow hot as I catch sight of the giant letters etched on the sign. Dr. Bradley Parker, MD.
“Coincidence,” I offer weakly.
“Whatever you say.” Still grinning, Lily gets out of the car. “Take your time. I’ll wait.”
I watch her red hair swing as she strides into the gynecology clinic next door. A pang of envy rattles through me as I admire the sway of her hips. What would it be like to own my sexuality so completely? I might hate Lily if I didn’t adore her so much.
I’m so caught up admiring my sister-in-law that I almost forget how much she ought to hate me. I haven’t been honest with her, or with anyone in the Bracelyn family. Not knowing why Dante’s here has me on edge. What if he slips and reveals everything? All of it, the whole mess of my life.
Perhaps that’s the plan. A silent threat that if I don’t act soon, someone else will do it for me. They’ll make sure my lovely new temporary life implodes in a blaze of heartache and hurt feelings.
I take a deep breath and glance at the door of Bradley’s medical clinic. With everything going on, it would be silly to walk inside. He’s probably not even here, or if he is, he’s with a patient.
Scraps of this morning’s conversation with my mother flutter through the back of my brain.
“I do hope you’re making plans to return home post haste, Isabella.” She sounded distracted, and I pictured her standing before a full-length mirror as a courtier fixed her hair. “The court is growing impatient.”
I sighed, then worried I sounded like a petulant child. “I don’t understand the rush. By the way, why did you send Dante to—”
“You don’t understand the rush?” Her voice went shrill, suddenly laser-focused on our conversation. “Isabella, you know precisely how crucial this is. If word gets out we have a runaway member of the royal family, there’s no telling what sort of political upheaval we’d have on our hands. Your responsibility—”
“I know, Mother. I know.” I shut my eyes, not needing further reminders of my responsibility.
I live with it sitting squarely on my shoulders each day, heavy as a pot-bellied pig allowed to eat whatever he wants because he requires sustenance to grow big and strong and—okay, I’m thinking about Bradley again.
No, I’m thinking about Kevin the pig. I really should pop in and ask Bradley if the foster program requires any additional paperwork. I’m not hopeful I’ll be chosen as a secondary foster. It’s a long shot, considering how little time I likely have left here. But Kathryn did say short-term, and shouldn’t I at least check?
I know I’m kidding myself, but that doesn’t stop me from exiting the vehicle and striding toward the clinic doors. It’s not the same confident, sex-positive stride I admired in Lily, but years of posture lessons taught me the importance of elegant comportment.
As I reach the door, my hands are sweating. Not very elegant, but I pull open the door anyway. The moment I find myself standing at the front desk, I realize my mistake.
“Hi there.” The friendly receptionist gives me a curious smile. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Oh. Um, no.” Good Lord, what was I thinking coming in here like this? “I’m a friend of Bradley’s. Doctor Bradley, I mean. Dr. Parker.”
The woman’s face lights up. “Oh! You must be Isabella. He’s spoken highly of you. Just a moment, he’s about to take lunch.”
I open my mouth to ask how on earth she knew my name. Perhaps it’s the accent? Warmth moves through my veins like syrup, and I remind myself not to read too much into the fact that he’s spoken of me to his staff. I’m aware that having a member of a foreign royal family here is something of a novelty, so surely that’s all it is.
Turning away, I search for something to distract me. I study a neat rack of brochures and grab one at random, intending to practice my grasp of medical English.
This drug is in a class of antiviral medications known as synthetic nucleoside analogues developed to promote healing of sores and zosters…
All right, perhaps not the most practical conversational vocabulary. I turn to place it back on the rack when Bradley strides through the doors.
“Izzy.” His smile spreads wide, lighting up the whole waiting room. As his gaze falls to the paper in my hand, his smile falters the tiniest bit. “Are you here for an appointment?”
“What? Oh.” I look down at the brochure and nearly die.
Living with Genital Herpes.
I shove it back into the slot as heat floods my face. “No. No, I don’t have an appointment. Or herpes!” I say this much too loudly, as evidenced by the patient who looks up from her magazine. I lower my voice and fight to ignore the heat rushing to my cheeks. “I was just running errands with Lily, and when I saw your name on the door, I thought I’d say hello.”
“Hello.” He grins like I haven’t just made a complete ass of myself. “It’s really great to see you.”
“It’s great to see you, too.” He has no idea. Night after night, I’ve been waking from sweaty dreams involving Bradley wearing nothing but his lab coat. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing one now, his broad shoulders making the garment look much sexier than it has any right to.
I need to stop staring.
“So, Kevin.” I force myself to swallow. “Any news on Kevin the pig?”
“Nothing new.” His blue eyes flash like he recognizes my ridiculous excuse. “The foster paperwork sometimes takes time.”
“I see.” Time is one thing I definitely don’t have.
What was I thinking coming in here? Or worse, drooling over Dr. Parker like some lovesick teen. I know better than
this.
In the back of my mind, my mother’s voice is stern. “Only fools let emotions rule their personal relationships.” She said this just moments after I confronted her with the DNA report showing the Duke couldn’t possibly be my biological father.
“The occasional slip is understandable,” she continued. “But don’t let your heart make strategic decisions on your behalf.”
I shake off the echoes of her voice and force myself to meet Bradley’s curious gaze with my haughtiest royal composure. “It was wonderful seeing you. I—I should get back to Lily.”
He smiles, and my insides turn to mush again. “I’m really glad you stopped by. You’re a definite bright spot in my day.”
“Yes, you, too.” If he only knew how pathetically giddy I feel just hearing his voice. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his lab coat, and my whole body twitches with the thought of feeling them on my body.
I have to get out of here.
I back away slowly, no longer trusting myself not to lunge for him. “I have to go. Lovely seeing you. Take care, now.”
I turn and flee like a scared little girl.
Like a woman who knows exactly how much she stands to lose by ignoring her mother’s counsel.
Chapter 6
Bradley
Of all the things I’ve done to woo a woman, arriving on her doorstep with a pig in a sweater takes the prize.
“Bradley.” Izzy blinks at me, then looks down. “Oh my goodness, Kevin!”
She stoops to scratch his ears, and I try not to feel jealous the pig gets a warmer greeting than I did.
“The county’s still processing your application to be a foster, but my mom needed someone to take him off her hands for a few hours,” I explain. “Thought you might like to see him again.”
“Oh my gosh, this is so wonderful.” She scratches under the collar of his red wool sweater and Kevin grunts with pleasure. “I didn’t know people dressed pigs in clothing.”
“People don’t.” I shrug. “My mother does. She was worried he might get cold since he used to be a house pig and all.”
