Dr. Hot Stuff (Ponderosa Resort Romantic Comedies Book 9)

by Tawna Fenske

  But he’s also stalking me on behalf of my family, and I can’t feel good about that. Turning away, I move briskly across frost-crisped grass to the spa. There’s been no fresh snow for a few days, but patches of it still linger in the shade of tall ponderosas. On the horizon, the Cascade peaks twinkle like vanilla-frosted cupcakes. I’ll miss those when I’m gone. I’ll miss all of this, the resort I’ve come to love like home.

  I’m breathing hard by the time I reach the spa. Bree’s waiting for me at the front door. With one look at my face, she steps forward and pulls me in for a hug.

  “Aw, hell,” she says. “I was afraid of that.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Boy trouble?”

  I nod against her shoulder, feeling tears well again. “Yes. Well, it’s unfortunate.”

  “Come on.” She draws back and takes my hand. “I was coming for a facial anyway, so they’ll squeeze us both in. Want to talk about it?”

  Do I? I fall into step with my sister, aching to unload everything. The breakup with Bradley and my reasons for it. Are there any secrets worth guarding at this point?

  Maybe they weren’t worth guarding in the first place. I think of the pain in Bradley’s eyes, the flash of betrayal when I laid it all out for him. My marriage plans, my dead brother. All of it.

  I’m so tired of hiding. So tired of serving as defender of my family’s interests. I know that’s awful, but it’s true.

  Bree glances at me as we stride together down the hallway toward the treatment rooms. “Iz?”

  I stop walking, bracing a hand on the edge of a river rock fountain. “It’s my fault.” I gulp, stunned I’ve managed to blurt this out. “All of it.”

  She turns with concern creasing her brow, bracing a hand on the wall. “What’s your fault, Izzy?”

  This is it. My moment to come clean to the Bracelyn family, or at least my sister. “The split with Bradley,” I say slowly. “The fact that my family’s kingdom is in trouble.” I take a breath so I can force out the rest of the words. “It’s my fault my baby brother died.”

  Her mouth falls open, and I instantly regret saying this to a mother. “I’m sor—”

  “Izzy, wh—why would you say that?” She steps closer and lifts a hand to my shoulder. “Start with what you just said—your baby brother?”

  I don’t know if I’m relieved or horrified that’s the question she asked first. But I owe her an answer. I owe so much to everyone.

  “It’s true.” I close my eyes and drift back to that horrible day. “I was twelve, my first time in charge of watching him. It was only for an hour, and my mother said he shouldn’t need a nap.”

  But he looked sleepy, so sleepy.

  “I put him in his bassinet,” I continue, breath coming faster now. “He’d been crying, and I thought he might like to lie down. To rest just a bit before Mother returned. But when she came home—” I choke on the last words.

  I’ve gotten this far, but I can’t say the rest. Can’t capture the anguish of my mother falling to her knees, sobbing as she held his lifeless little body. I can’t describe the emptiness in the Duke’s eyes as he walked through the palace doors to find his home teeming with doctors and nurses, each one fighting to bring Oliver back.

  But they couldn’t do that. They couldn’t, because I ruined everything. Me, I did that to my family.

  I open my eyes and meet Bree’s gaze head-on. “He died in his crib,” I whisper. “I never should have laid him down. They said he didn’t need a nap, and I didn’t listen, and it’s all my fault.”

  “Oh, God.” Bree’s green eyes fill with tears as her fingers tighten around my shoulder. “It was SIDS, wasn’t it?”

  “SIDS?” I comb my brain for the translation and come up empty. “I don’t—”

  “Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.” Her brow furrows. “Izzy, that’s no one’s fault. It’s just a thing that sometimes happens. A horrible, awful thing, but no one’s to blame.”

  “Of course it was my fault.” I shake my head. She’s wrong about this, obviously. I’ve had eighteen years of my family telling me unequivocally that I’m to blame. “I laid him on his side so he could cuddle his toy elephant.”

  The side-sleeping, the toy in the crib—all things you’re not supposed to do with a baby. Doctors say this all the time, in every advanced country in the world. I’ve read up on it since then. I know.

  Bree shakes her head slowly. “You were twelve? Izzy, you were a kid.” Her fingers slip down my arm to grip my hand. “Even if you weren’t, it happens all the time. To grownups—experienced parents.”

  I shake my head. I know better. I’ve heard my parents say it time and time again. “They trusted me, and I screwed up. It’s my fault.”

  She shakes her head, then frowns. “Wait, so you can’t be with Bradley because you’re afraid of becoming a mother?”

  I swallow hard, wishing it were that simple. “I can’t be with Bradley because I’m my parents’ only surviving child. I’m duty-bound to commit to a strategic union.” It sounds so clinical when I put it that way. “Marriage. It’s my job to connect our family to the royal court of Saxenheim. I’m promised to the crown prince.”

  Her face goes pale as realization dawns. “Oh, God—Izzy, I—I don’t know what to say to that.”

  I look down at my feet, aware that this tradition sounds absurd outside my own culture. “It’s just the way it is,” I say. “The way it’s always been.”

  “I had no idea that was even a thing,” she says. “I mean, obviously, I’m aware of arranged marriage. I just—I didn’t realize you were wrapped up in it.”

  “Few people do.” I swallow back a fresh wave of guilt for keeping this from everyone. “Not outside Dovlano, anyway. I’m so sorry, Bree. I should have told you. I know you never would have trusted me with Brian if you’d known, and—”

  “Hush, Izzy.” She drags me into her arms and hugs me tighter than I deserve. All this love, all this familial affection, it’s so much more than I can accept without guilt. “Oh, honey. I can’t believe you’ve been carrying all this around with you.”

  I do feel lighter, but my heart is unbearably heavy. There’s nothing Bree can say or do to fix how I hurt my family. Hurt Bradley, for that matter. So much destruction and sadness, all at my hands.

  But breathing the baby-powder scent of my sister’s hair, I feel loved. Forgiven, even though I have no right to absolution. This unconditional affection, it’s the rarest possible gift.

  It’s exactly what Bradley offered, if only I could accept.

  “Come on.” Bree draws back, wiping her eyes. “We’ve got a private suite for the facials. Let’s get settled with some tea, and you can tell me all about it. Or if you don’t feel like talking, we can do that. Just know I’m here for you, okay?”

  I nod and feel a tear slip down my cheek. Could it be this simple? Forgiveness from my sister, even knowing what I’ve done, who I am, what I’ve hidden. There’s no way I could deserve this.

  “Okay.” I swallow back more tears and grip Bree’s hand tighter. “All right, let’s go.”

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The minister closes the book he’s holding. “You may kiss the bride.”

  It takes every ounce of strength I possess to hold tight to my bridesmaid bouquet and not look at Bradley. Not to see him in the fourth row with his sister and his well-fitted suit and wonder about what could have been. What was never meant to be between us.

  I know I can’t have him, but that doesn’t stop my masochistic heart from letting my gaze skim past him as Jon and Blanka stride together down the aisle. They’re glowing as they make their way through the double doors and out into the bright, winter afternoon under a sky pregnant with unfallen snow. I’m glad they had their wedding here at the resort. I’ll carry these memories with me when I fly home in a few days.

  Everyone’s clapping as the rest of the bridal party moves toward the exit. Bree leads the way, then stops in the coat check lin
e, smiling as our brothers spill behind her and gather with their wives. Only James seems distracted, slipping his phone out of his pocket and scowling.

  “Put that away!” Bree punches him in the arm. “It’s a wedding, not a board meeting.”

  James frowns and slips the phone back in his pocket. “I’m ensuring there’s no need to be concerned.”

  Something passes between them then, a conversation they have just with their eyes. It’s the sort of sibling telepathy I’ve envied between the Bracelyns. Even though it doesn’t include me, I can’t help savoring these final moments of hovering on the fringes of their connection.

  Bree turns to Austin. “Do you think we should check on Brian? Real quick, before the reception starts.”

  Austin smiles and slips an arm around her waist. “Sure. He’s fine, but I know you’ll feel better if you see for yourself.”

  She lets him steer her toward the door, and I glance at my watch, surprised to see we have thirty minutes until the reception begins. Jon and Blanka wanted time for photos before we all show up clamoring for cocktails and dinner. Perhaps I should take Bree’s lead and see how Kevin is doing with Dante.

  As I start for the door, Lily touches my arm. “Great jacket.” She lifts a hand to brush the sleeve of my fitted black trench coat. “Is this one we picked out together?”

  I can’t help smiling in spite of everything. “I found this by myself.” I adjust the belt at my waist, absurdly proud of how well it fits. “I remembered what you said about dressing to enhance my curves.”

  “Great choice.” Lily grins and leans closer. “You look like a sexy assassin. Like the perfect blend of classy and ‘c’mere, Doc Bradley, and fuck me silly.’ Where is he, anyway?”

  I take a fortifying gulp of fresh air as we step out into the crisp December afternoon. “I’m not sure. He was sitting toward the middle with his sister.”

  “Ah.” That’s it, just one syllable. But it conveys almost as much as the sympathy in her eyes. “If it makes you feel better, my date’s been pretty distracted. Weddings bring out the weird in people.”

  She has no idea how weird my upcoming wedding will be, or even that there’s going to be one. Will I tell her before I go? Would any of this make sense to a woman like Lily, who’s spent a lifetime steering the ship of her romantic relationships?

  “Weddings are weird,” I agree, because at least that’s true. “Maybe if you come visit me in Dovlano, I can take you to one of the royal ceremonies that are open to the public. They’re a big deal and really formal.”

  Lily’s expression turns wistful as she lets go of my arm. “I still can’t believe you’re leaving. I was hoping you’d stay.”

  “Same.” If only she knew how much I wished for that.

  Tears prick the backs of my eyelids, but I blink them back. Sadness is the last thing we need at this celebration of love and family harmony.

  “You headed to the reception hall?” she asks.

  “I think I’ll go check on my pig first. It’s Kevin’s first time being here without me.”

  Lily smiles and tucks a hand in James’s back pocket. “Have fun. We’ll see you in there.”

  I bid them farewell, then turn to scurry along the frost-freckled path toward the cabins. A hawk swoops low over the ice-covered pond, hot on the trail of his dinner. Icicles glitter on naked aspen branches, tinkling in the breeze. I pull my coat tighter around my formal dress, righting myself as the heel of my shoe catches an icy patch.

  I’ll miss this. The birds, the trees, the bright, pine-laced breeze. It’s changed me, this place. I’m stronger than I used to be, more independent.

  So why can’t you stand up for yourself? Why can’t you tell your parents you’re staying put?

  Because maybe I’m not brave. Because maybe I don’t deserve to be happy after what I stole from my family.

  I’m almost to Dante’s cabin, and I pick up the pace. I don’t want to be late for the reception. As I stride the final steps to the porch, I squint through the fog at the front door.

  That’s…odd.

  The door gapes open about three inches, creaking in the breeze.

  I study the opening, breathing in the scent of roasted meat. I thought it was wafting from the reception hall, but maybe Dante’s cooking again. Perhaps airing out the kitchen, or maybe he took Kevin for a walk.

  Even as I rationalize it, the hair prickles on my arms. A hitman who’s spent a lifetime safeguarding royal VIPs doesn’t suddenly forget to shut his front door. Besides, Kevin could slip out. What’s going on?

  Slowly, I edge toward the cabin. My heart pounds in my ears, but fear doesn’t stop me from putting one heeled shoe in front of the other. When I reach the front door, there’s a soft grunt from inside. Kevin?

  I push through without thinking. Stepping into the foyer, I blink against the dimness. The blinds are drawn like Dante doesn’t want anyone seeing inside.

  No, not Dante.

  A shape oozes into view. A man, someone a few inches shorter than Dante but just as solid. He wears a black skullcap and a snug gray shirt revealing biceps almost as big as Dante’s.

  But the muscle is overshadowed by the steely black firearm he grips in one hand. A gun, a big one, lethal and shiny and pointed right at me.

  The man stares at me with cold, hard eyes. “Well, well.” He directs the gun at my chest. “Isn’t this a stroke of luck.”

  Luck is the last word I’d use, but I can’t find any words at all just now. As I stare at the man, I fumble behind me for the doorknob. I could still run.

  But not without Kevin. Not without knowing if he’s hurt or in trouble or—

  “Close it,” the man says. “Step inside, nice and slow.”

  I consider disobeying. Just making a run for it, damn the consequences.

  But I can’t leave my foster pet. Not with this madman holding a gun and threatening to do God knows what.

  I take a deep breath. Holding up my hands, I move forward. My legs are shaky, but my stride doesn’t falter. With a silent prayer, I reach back and push the door closed behind me.

  Then I lift my hands higher. “Don’t shoot,” I say, and step forward to meet my fate.

  Chapter 14

  Bradley

  I try to pretend my head’s not on a swivel watching for Izzy, but it’s a lost cause. My heart speeds up every time I catch a glimpse of chocolate curls across the reception hall. Each time I spot a flutter of ice-blue silk, I’m convinced she’s coming to see me. That there’s still a chance this isn’t over between us.

  “She’s not here yet, huh?” My sister sidles up to me and offers a sympathetic look.

  “Probably taking photos with Jon and Blanka.” I spot several other members of the wedding party—Bree and Austin by the cake stand, Sean murmuring quietly with the caterers—but no bride and groom. Iz must be with them.

  My sister makes an exasperated sound. “I’m dying to meet her.”

  I don’t have to ask who she means. Julia’s not the only one eager for a glimpse of Izzy. We agreed to sit together at the reception, but our table remains empty while we wait for the official word to take our seats.

  “You have to play it cool,” I remind my sister. “Seriously, she broke it off. Don’t make this more awkward than it already is.”

  My sister folds her arms over her chest. “This isn’t like you to just let things go. Aren’t you going to fight for her?”

  I sigh and resist the urge to rake my fingers through my hair. “It’s not that simple, okay? Besides, if a woman says she’s done, it’s a dick move to imply she doesn’t know her own mind.”

  Julia considers that. “Maybe. I still want to meet her.”

  “Fine. Just—don’t be weird.”

  “I’m never weird.” My sister squeaks and does a flailing Muppet wave at a waiter toting a plate of appetizers. “Okay, I’m weird when crab puffs are involved.”

  “That’s fair.” I haven’t told my family the details of my split with Izzy.
The complexity of her family dynamic and the arranged marriage that’ll surely make headlines at some point. Not that we get a lot of news from Dovlano, but I don’t doubt this will be a source of local gossip for months to come.

  I’m still trying to wrap my head around what happened. Maybe Julia’s right. Maybe I should go after her. Maybe it’s my job to sweep in and prove to her somehow that she belongs here.

  Yeah, that’s exactly what she needs. Another person telling her what to do.

  I sigh and accept a champagne flute from a passing server. “How did Jordan’s well-child visit go?”

  “Great! She told Dr. Taneka that when she grows up, she wants to be a doctor like uncle Bradley, only for fairies, elves, and unicorns.”

  “Gotta love a girl with unambiguous dreams.” I sip my champagne. “You think a unicorn would see a veterinarian or a regular doctor?”

  “Definitely regular doctors.” Julia looks thoughtful. “I suppose you’d have to do a special residency. Learn how to treat winged horses and all that.”

  “That’s Pegasus, not a unicorn. And I’m thinking there’d be some serious malpractice insurance required for the unicorn thing. Too much risk of being gored.”

  Julia grins. “Just don’t piss off your patients.”

  “Spoken like a woman who’s never been yelled at for contradicting someone who diagnosed herself based on a TikTok video.”

  My sister laughs and takes a sip of her champagne. I’m grateful she’s stopped badgering me about Izzy, but that doesn’t mean my brain stops seeking her out. Did she run back to her cabin? As far as I know, we’re still planning to sit together. A training exercise with the Army Reserves kept me out of town the past few days, which was probably a blessing. Less risk of running into Iz at the coffee shop or grocery store. I’m braced to make small talk at the reception. To chatter over canapés and pretend it doesn’t feel like someone took a ball peen hammer to my spleen each time she smiles.