by Tawna Fenske
When, not if.
If he’s alarmed by my word choice, he doesn’t show it. Just smiles into my eyes, as cool and composed as always.
“That sounds perfect,” he says. “Whenever we’re ready.”
He pulls me into his arms again, and the kiss this time is filled with heat. It’s tender and sexy and hot and sweet and all these contrasting sensations rolled into one big passionate ball. It’s so much more than I ever expected to have, so much more than I ever thought possible.
“I love you,” I say again.
The words aren’t scary at all.
For the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of a damn thing.
Epilogue
JAMES
“Goodnight, asshole.” Mark grins and steps off my front porch with Sean on his heels. “Thanks for giving me all your money.”
“Wait, is it my turn to host the next one?” Sean scratches the back of his head. “I’ve gotta start writing down our poker night shit.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a spreadsheet,” I tell him. “I’ll email it to you.”
Jonathan ducks through the door and rolls his eyes. “Only you could turn a goddamn guys’ night into one of those tight-ass book clubs where they serve canapés and kick people out for not reading the book.”
“I didn’t kick you out for sticking a copy of What’s Your Poo Telling You in my guest bath,” I point out. “Though I probably should have.”
“You know you love it.” He slings an arm around me and pulls me in for a bro hug. It’s hardly our standard form of farewell, but he’s getting sappier on me lately.
Blame it on the fact that he’s set to head back to the Mediterranean right after Bree’s wedding. I wish he wouldn’t, but I understand his need to save the world. At least one corner of it.
I hug him back, annoyed to feel a tickle of emotion at the back of my throat. Who knew sharing feelings was like a goddamn corkscrew popping out?
“Have a good night,” he calls over his shoulder as he makes his way toward his cabin.
“You, too.” I fight to keep the grin off my face and wonder how long it’ll take him to notice I’ve replaced the toilet paper in his bathroom with duct tape.
This brother thing is growing on me.
I turn to usher out the last of my guests. Austin’s deep in conversation with Doc Parker about some case they worked together, something about a Peeping Tom who fell out of a tree and impaled his testicles.
It’s best if I don’t ask questions.
“Hey, man—thanks for having us.” Bradley Parker gives me one of those combination bro-shake shoulder hug things, and I slap back.
I keep waiting to feel stabs of jealousy about the good doc’s former relationship with Lily, but it’s just not happening. The guy is too damn nice, and I hope he’ll eventually find what Lily and I have.
Christ, I’m turning into a sap.
“G’night, man.” Austin gives me a mock salute as he steps out the door. “Promise you’re not planning anything crazy for the bachelor party?”
“Please,” I mutter. “I’m pretty sure the whole reason I’m in charge is that I’m the least likely to do anything crazy.”
He grins and ambles toward his car. “Have a good one.”
I watch him go, wondering how much he knows about our father. Bree got the honor of driving dear ol’ Dad to the airstrip a few weeks ago, determined to see him get on that damn plane and stay gone.
It’s anyone’s guess whether he’ll do it, but he did promise. Maybe someday his promises will count for something.
I breathe in the night air for a few more seconds as taillights fade down the winding driveway of the resort. Then I turn and head back into the house. My pace quickens as I approach the bedroom, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know why.
Just a volcanologist.
“Hey there.” Lily sits up on the bed and grins. “You’re not all tipsy on Glenlivet, are you?”
I flop onto the bed beside her, nudging Magma to the side. The dog groans and heaves her head on my lap, drooling on my knee. I scratch behind her ears, grateful the king-sized bed has room for all of us.
“Definitely not tipsy,” I tell her. “I wanted to be completely sober for our first night of living together.”
That’s right, she moved in.
We took things slowly at first, spending nights at each other’s houses and having normal dates like normal people.
Well, not all normal. We did fork Jonathan’s yard, and she took me to see Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Tower Theatre. I even threw toast, though I’m not sure I understand why.
In any case, we reached a point where we just knew. We wanted to be together day and night. She moved in this morning so she’d be settled before she flies off to Italy to study the Mt. Stromboli volcano. She’ll be back just before Bree’s wedding.
I lean down to kiss my favorite spot behind her ear. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Magma thumps her tail on the bed, grateful to be part of this moment. I scratch her ears again, nudge her collar aside to get the spot she can’t reach by herself. The dog groans and rolls so I can rub her belly.
Lily tips her head back and looks at me. “Does this feel weird to you?”
“Making out with you while your dog drools on my knee?”
“No, goofball.” She laughs. “Moving in together. I expected it to feel weird, but it doesn’t. Not at all.”
“Same.” That’s the craziest thing. All this stuff I fretted about for years, it’s not hard at all. It’s been so damn easy sharing my life with Lily.
Also, the world hasn’t ended with my siblings learning about our father.
The world hasn’t ended with Isabella connecting with us. She even joined a family meeting via video yesterday, facilitated carefully by Dr. Hooter.
And the world definitely hasn’t ended with falling in love.
It’s just gotten better.
“I keep expecting to get all nervous,” Lily says. “It’s a big deal moving in together. But I just feel happy.”
“Who wouldn’t feel happy with a zebra in their bedroom?”
She laughs and snuggles closer. “He’s happier having a friend.”
I glance at the corner, where an ostrich—or is it an emu?—struts happily beside the zebra. Lily’s grandma helped me track it down through a Parisian auction site. We’re ninety-eight percent sure they’re from the same carousel.
“They look happier paired up like that, don’t they?” I ask.
“They do.” Lily leans back and looks up at me in earnest. “Okay, I have something for you. A moving in gift, I guess.”
“You got me a gift?” I didn’t know that was a thing. Should I have gotten her a moving in gift?
Her smile gets wider as she slides off the bed and pads barefoot to the closet. She bends down and rummages through one of the boxes she brought over this morning, and I admire the curve of her ass in a pair of my old boxers. Damn, I could never get tired of this.
She spins around, grinning as she catches me staring. “Perv.”
“Yep.”
She’s clutching something against her chest, and as she makes her way back to the bed, I realize what it is.
“The picture frame,” I breathe. I never expected to see it again after I took my last load to Laminaxes. “My dad’s photo—”
“Gone,” she says. “I stuck it in a file folder in case you want to look at it again someday. Don’t worry, that’s not what I’m giving you.”
I wasn’t worried, and I’m glad she kept the picture. I might have been a little hasty when I got rid of some of the family heirlooms, though I haven’t regretted it one bit. It’s been nice reclaiming my space, making room for things that have meaning for me instead of for generations of long-dead relatives who weren’t all that nice anyway.
Lily sits down on the edge of the bed, her knee brushing mine. I realize with a start that she’s nervous. She’s holding the frame with
the glass pressed against her breasts, like she’s unsure how I’ll take her gift.
“I saw this frame in one of the boxes you brought in, and it was too pretty to get rid of it,” she says. “I wanted to give it new life. I came up with this.”
She peels the frame from her chest and turns it around. Slowly, my eyes take in the image behind the glass. There’s Jonathan with his arms wrapped around Mark and Sean. His grin stretches from ear to ear as he crushes Mark’s scruffy beard against his shoulder. Sean’s slamming Jon on the back, laughing as they tip to one side.
And there, in the center of it all, is me.
I look up at Lily, struck speechless. “How did you—”
“Remember that day your smoke alarm went off?” She hands me the frame so I can study it closer. “I took it then. I forgot I even had it on my phone until I was going through some old stuff. When I saw this, I knew it was perfect.”
“It is perfect.” I’ve never seen anything more perfect in my life.
Except maybe this woman who’s sharing my bed, my home, my life. I set the frame on my nightstand and reach for her. “I love you so much, Lily.” I breathe the words like a prayer, aware of their power more than I ever used to be.
“I love you, too.” She snuggles into my embrace, and it feels like we were made to fit together like this. Maybe we were.
She tips her head back for a kiss, and I fuse our lips together, kissing her until we’re both breathless and eager.
Magma jumps off the bed, taking the hint.
Lily looks at me and laughs. “I can see where this is going.”
So can I. Not just sex, but everything. A whole future laid out in front of us like the greatest gift imaginable.
I’m so damn happy I could explode.
“Just one second.” I reach over and flip the photo frame face down, earning another giggle from Lily. “My brothers don’t need to see what’s about to happen.”
“What’s about to happen?” Her voice is coy as she fingers the buttons on the front of my shirt.
“Anything you want.”
She licks her lips and grins. “I’m going to like living with you.”
So am I. As I lay her back on the bed, I’m more certain of this than I have been of anything in my life.
* * *
***
Wondering what’s next in the Ponderosa Resort Romantic Comedy Series? As you might’ve guessed, Jonathan’s on deck soon, and we’ll also get to know mystery sister Isabella.
But first, I’d like you to meet twin cousins of the Bracelyn clan, Valerie and Vanessa. They’re visiting for Bree’s wedding, and I’ve got a super-special July novella coming your way. Read on for a sneak peek at Mancandy Crush…
Your exclusive sneak peek at MANCANDY CRUSH
VALERIE
“Tell me honestly—is this the weirdest wedding you’ve ever done?”
My cousin’s earnest question has me glancing up from my spot on the floor at her feet. I do my best to offer a reassuring smile through the pins clamped in my teeth. “Definitely not.”
Which comes out more like, “mwfnly nrt,” because pins.
Bree smiles anyway and smooths the red sash circling the A-line bateau sweep train gown I designed to flatter her ever-growing baby bump.
“Thanks,” she says. “I keep second-guessing everything, you know? Wondering if we should wait ‘til after the baby comes or just scrap the whole silly Christmas wedding fantasy.”
Spitting the pins into a magnetic dish beside me, I release the hem of her dress and give her my full attention. “No way.” I sit back on my heels. “I mean, yes, this is the first time I’ve stitched snowflake lace for a July wedding. But it’s your wedding. Yours and Austin’s,” I add quickly. “If he wants to cruise down the aisle on a unicycle with his cop uniform inside-out and a pork chop between his teeth while you juggle flaming gerbils at the altar, the two of you can rock on with your weird selves and screw everyone else.”
Bree’s smile widens and she stops fussing with the sash. “That’s why I picked you for this,” she says. “You always say the right things.”
That is literally the last thing anyone has ever accused me of. More likely she picked me because my dresses have been featured everywhere from Premier Bride to The Knot, plus we’re related. Bree’s big on working with family.
Besides, she knows I love summer weddings. Especially summer weddings with reindeer and mistletoe and a ceremony set in the middle of a snowfield.
I still haven’t figured out how she’s going to pull that off. It’s ninety-two degrees in Central Oregon, and I spent the morning swimming laps in Ponderosa Resort’s outdoor pool.
“I think it’s awesome you know what you want.” I anchor one last pin into the hem before clambering to my feet. “You want a Christmas wedding, and Austin doesn’t want his kid to be a bastard. Problem solved.”
And with a fair amount of creativity, I might add. That bodes well for their relationship skills, though I’m hardly the best judge.
“Thank you.” Bree tucks a dark curl behind her ear and smiles. “Austin’s been great about everything. He’s the one who suggested having guests shake jingle bells for our recessional.”
“You landed a perfect guy.” And I swear I’m not at all jealous she’s marrying the hottest, most charming cop on the planet. “Let’s take a look at the dress.”
I put my hands on her shoulders and turn her to face the full-length mirror that I dragged in here this morning. The light in her office is gorgeous, and it’s bigger than most bridal dressing rooms I’ve seen.
Bree’s eyes go wide as she stares at her reflection. “Wow.” She blinks hard, tears gathering along her lashes. “Oh my God, it’s amazing. It’s so perfect, Val.”
She throws her arms around me, squeezing so hard I hear my ribs creak. Pride ripples through me, along with a good bit of relief. A Christmas gown for a knocked-up July bride was a tall order, so I’m glad she loves it.
“See?” she says against my hair. “This is why those Hollywood guys have been hounding you to do that TV show.”
I appreciate the compliment, though I’d sooner superglue my nostrils shut than go bopping around the globe doing episodes for Best Dressed Brides. “You’re the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen.”
That’s the God’s-honest truth, and I hope she knows.
“Thanks, Val. I love you so much.” She releases me and dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “God, I swear this baby has taken over my tear ducts.”
I laugh and hand her another tissue. “And bladder. Remember that summer Aunt Stacy wouldn’t take us anywhere until she’d mapped out all the bathrooms beforehand?”
“Now I get it.” Bree laughs again and turns to survey the dress’s train, which is a cloud of snowflake-dotted lace. “I can’t wait for the rest of the family to get here. You like Vanessa’s boyfriend well enough?”
It’s an innocent question. One that shouldn’t sock me in the gut like a sack of wet rags.
“He’s great!” This is true, and I’m pleased I mustered such enthusiasm on behalf of my twin. “Nessie’s excited to introduce him to everyone.”
It’s a perfect response. Nice and breezy, with bonus points for casual use of my sister’s nickname.
But Bree must hear the off-note in my voice.
“What is it?” She turns to face me, green eyes scanning me for signs of trauma. “What’s wrong?”
I consider lying. Just making up something about jet-lag or cramps.
But I’ve never been able to lie. I once tattled on myself at recess for stepping off playground property when I tripped and fell with my hand outside the gate.
I suck at fibbing, even a little.
Instead, I sigh. “It’s not a big deal. Just—Raleigh and I knew each other from volunteering with Big Brothers Big Sisters. I’m the one who introduced him to Vanessa.”
Bree nods in sympathy. “I see.”
The weird thing is, I think she does. She’s six
years older than me, and though we grew up seeing each other just once or twice a year, she’s scarily sharp at reading the vibe between my twin and me.
Bree steps back from the mirror and gives me one of those soothing smiles that’s going to make her a perfect mother. “Did Vanessa know you had a crush on him?”
I shake my head, determined not to get emotional. This is Bree’s time, this leadup to her perfect, fairytale wedding. I’m not going to be the wet blanket tossed over her twinkle-light tree.
“No way,” I assure her. “Ness was mortified when I admitted it. I wasn’t going to say a word, but she started hammering me with questions about why I got all weird around him and—”
“—And you can’t lie.” She nods, fully grasping the situation. “That’s unfortunate.”
“It’s fine.” I start gathering up my sewing supplies to give my hands something to do. “Really. I’m over him now. Totally happy for my sister and everything’s going to be great.”
I paste on a smile to prove it as I turn Bree back to face the mirror. “And you’re going to be the world’s most stunning bride.”
She looks dubious, though it has nothing to do with the gown. “I worry about you sometimes, Val. Always putting everyone else’s joy before yours instead of—”
“—and there’s my phone.” I whip it out and wave it to show I’m not full of crap. I really am being saved by the bell.
“Val? Hellooo?” My sister’s voice blasts through the office and I curse my stupid phone.
“Sorry,” I tell Bree, backing out of the office in a hurry. “My phone answers by itself sometimes. It’s kind of an asshole—”
“Who’s an asshole?” My sister shouts through the line.
“Not you,” I tell her. “Hang on a sec.”
I press the phone to my chest and address at Bree. “You’re gorgeous and I’m so glad you invited me out here. See you at dinner?”
Bree nods, still wearing that mother-hen look. “Don’t forget the Tumalo Mountain hike in the morning,” she said. “We’ll have ugly Christmas sweaters for everyone if it’s chilly.”
