by Tawna Fenske
“Sheep are the world’s messiest eaters.” Bradley scratches the neck of a plump white goat. “Learned that one the hard way when I raised a pair for 4H.”
“You were in 4H?” I don’t know why I’m so surprised.
Bradley looks just as surprised. “You know what 4H is?”
“Mark and Chelsea’s girl, Libby—she has a rabbit she’s raising for 4H.”
“This is in addition to Long Long Peter?” He laughs and looks at his mom. “I’ve never seen a guy take to fatherhood faster than Mark Bracelyn.”
“It’s that protective instinct.” Kathryn pats her son’s arm. “Takes one to know one.”
I’m not sure what she means by that, and Bradley looks uncomfortable, so I decide not to ask. “Is that a llama or an alpaca over there?”
Bradley peers out the barn door to an adjacent pasture. “Llamas,” he says. “Those aren’t rescues. Mom and Dad bought them years ago for backpacking.”
“They’re just pets now.” Kathryn looks wistful, and I feel bad for bringing up memories of her dead husband. “The brown one is Spitball and the white one’s Dolly.”
I watch Dolly stretch her neck past the fence to snatch a weed on the other side. “Dolly, as in—Dalai Lama?”
“Exactly.” Bradley grins. “And if you get too close to Spitball, you’ll find out how he got his name.”
“I think I’ll pass.” I do recall reading something about llamas’ propensity for spitting.
I survey the pasture, then swing my gaze back through the barn. There’s a neat row of tools hanging on one wall and big bins of something I assume must be animal food. A couple pairs of dirty men’s work boots sit near a bench, and I wonder if they belong to a ranch hand or someone else.
I’m so caught up in wondering that I don’t see it approaching. Just a blow to the back of my knees that sends me stumbling into Bradley.
“Kevin! Stop that.” Kathryn bends down and catches the webbing of a harness attached to a round, pink pig.
I take a step back, conscious of Bradley’s hands on me again. I’m sure he’s just trying to steady me, but his touch has me flustered.
Or maybe that’s the pig licking the toe of my boot. He’s grunting and snorting and carrying on like I covered my footwear in peanut butter. Or jelly or whatever on earth pigs eat.
“You must’ve spilled something on your shoe?” Kathryn asks.
“No, they’re brand new.” Slowly, I stoop down to pet Kevin.
“Kevin…” I look at Bradley. “As in, Kevin Bacon?”
He laughs and points at his mother. “I said the same thing. She swears that’s not why she chose the name.”
“He didn’t come to you with a name?”
“He did, but I changed it,” she says. “Sometimes it’s best when they’re coming from an abusive situation. A fresh start and all that.”
I nod and wonder what that would be like. A new name, a fresh start. I’m partway there already, answering to “Iz” or “Izzy” despite my mother’s fervent aversion to nicknames.
“He’s cute.” I study the pig, who’s blinking at me with surprisingly long lashes. He opens his mouth and offers a cheerful oink.
“He likes you,” Kathryn says. “He’s been pretty skittish since he came in last week.”
“That’s because he’s terrified of Charlie.”
“Charlie?” I bend down and pet Kevin again.
“Mom’s dog. Gentle as a newborn, but Kevin’s not a fan.”
“Probably had a bad experience with a dog in his other house,” Kathryn says. “I’m hoping to find a short-term, secondary foster. Someplace he can be inside would be ideal.”
“Inside, like—in a house?” I’ve never heard of such a thing.
“He’s been raised in a home all his life.” Kathryn frowns. “Folks wanted a miniature pig, something around thirty or forty pounds.”
While I don’t intend to test my theory by lifting him, Kevin appears to be much larger. Sixty, maybe seventy pounds? He isn’t huge, but definitely bigger than a mid-sized dog. “I didn’t know pigs could be that small.”
“They’re not supposed to be.” Bradley’s brow furrows. “It happens a lot. People buy potbellied pigs and try to keep them small by underfeeding them.”
Kathryn shakes her head. “Which is kind of like deciding you want your kid to stay the size of a six-year-old forever, so you starve him.”
“How horrible.” I shift to a two-handed scratch, one behind each ear. Kevin deserves it after that. He oinks with what I can only assume must be pleasure, his twisty little tail twitching rapidly. “May I feed him something?”
Kathryn smiles and points to a red bin beside the door. “There’s some cut-up acorn squash over there. The grocery store donates all their iffy produce to animal rescues.”
I hurry over and grab two thick slices, Kevin on my heels. He snorts and wags and tilts his snoot skyward, anticipating the treat. “Kevin, sit.”
Kevin sits obediently, grunting for good measure. Kathryn laughs. “Well I’ll be darned. I had no idea he could do that.”
“Izzy has the magic touch,” Bradley muses.
Heat tickles my cheeks as I fight to keep myself from thinking impure thoughts about touching. Bradley touching me or me touching Bradley or—
“Are you okay, dear?” Kathryn gives me a look of motherly concern. “You got a little bit flushed all of a sudden.”
“I’m fine, thank you.” I wonder if Bradley told her about my kidney transplant. I know health information’s protected in this country, but privacy falls by the wayside when you pass out at your sister’s wedding.
I hold out another piece of squash for Kevin, laughing when he stretches up to take it. He’s so dainty about it, gently plucking the treat from my fingers as his funny little pig tail twitches.
What if?
The thought bubbles up through my subconscious so suddenly that I’m not even sure what it means.
What if I stayed in America?
What if I got a pet pig?
What if Bradley Parker were my boyfriend?
None of those things could happen, not really. But that truth doesn’t stop me from wanting them. All of them, but especially the last one.
I glance at Bradley and see he’s watching me, blue eyes sweeping me from head to toe as though he likes what he sees. A rush of warmth floods my system, and I look away so Kathryn doesn’t ask me again if I’m feeling ill.
“What’s required to be a secondary foster?” I bite my lip. “You said short-term, right?”
I can’t believe I just uttered those words.
Crazier still, I can’t believe Kathryn doesn’t bat an eyelash. “You’d have to fill out an application,” she says. “There’s a background check and a home visit to make sure you have the right space. Do you own or rent your home?”
I glance at Bradley, which is silly. It’s not like he’s equipped to answer. “It’s complicated,” I admit. “I’m a partner at Ponderosa Resort, but the cabin where I’m staying belonged to my sister.”
I decide not to mention Bree offering at least a dozen times to sign it over to me. “It doesn’t make sense for me to hang on to it since Austin and I got married and moved out to his place,” she told me just last week. “You won’t let us give you the funds you’re legally entitled to as an heir. At least take the cabin you love so much.”
I do love it. I love the resort, I love my family, I love America.
I might even love Kevin the pig.
I could definitely love Bradley, which is a thought that creeps unbidden through my brain before I can stop it.
I swallow back all those wants because there’s no sense even going there. Not when I’m not the one deciding what I can and can’t have for the future.
My mother’s voice chimes in my brain, an echo of a phone call last week. “When are you coming home, Isabella? It’s time for you to stop fooling around and return to do your duty.”
I swallow hard and lo
ok at Kathryn. “Could I have an application, please?”
She smiles at me like I’ve answered a question right on a game show. “Absolutely.”
Bradley steps closer and touches my arm. It’s barely a graze, but my body lights up like he strung Christmas lights through my chest cavity. “Quite a big step,” he murmurs low enough I’m not sure his mother can hear. “If you’re not careful, people will start thinking you plan to stick around.”
The lights blink out one by one, fizzling into blackness. He’s right. I have no business deluding anyone into thinking I could stay here. Not Kathryn. Not Kevin. Definitely not Bradley.
Or maybe it’s me I’m kidding most of all. I’m letting hope cloud my judgment, and I should know better than that.
I swallow hard, hearing the soft thunder of Bradley’s words.
“If you’re not careful…”
I remind myself to be careful. To stop fooling myself with a future I can never have.
Chapter 4
Bradley
I drive Isabella home after the farm visit, hoping she’ll invite me in. Even a goodbye kiss in the truck would rock my world. I’ve spent all day thinking about it, wishing my mom had waited one more minute before joining us by the barn. Feeling Iz in my arms, her warmth against my chest as I kissed her…that was unreal. I’m positive she felt it, too.
But something’s off now. As I pull up in front of her cabin, she’s got her hand on the door already. She’s radiating more tension than a cello string pulled too tight, and I’m not some jerk who’s just out to pluck her.
“Thanks for joining me today.” I kill the engine without making any moves toward her. “Did you get your animal fix?”
Her smile is warm but doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “It was wonderful, thank you.” She’s at the far edge of her seat, and it’s clear from her body language she’s giving the opposite of a come-hither look. Go-thither?
I soften my voice the same way I do with nervous patients. “My mother thinks you’re fantastic. So does Kevin the pig.”
She laughs but doesn’t take her hand off the door. “I hope I get to see him again.”
“We’ll make sure it happens.” Even if the secondary foster doesn’t work out, I can take her back to visit. I study her face, trying to wrap my head around the disconnect between her stiff posture and the heat in her eyes. Izzy’s gaze darts to my mouth, and she licks her lips before glancing away.
What’s happening here?
Adopting my soothing doctor voice, I try again. “I’d like to see you again.”
Izzy gives me a smile tinged with a pale blue hue of sadness. “That sounds lovely,” she says in what I’m beginning to realize is her duchess voice.
I keep watching her, trying to understand the change in her demeanor. “Did I say something wrong? That crack earlier about curtsying—”
“No! It’s not that at all. It’s just—” She bites her lip and glances down in her lap. “I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I’m here only temporarily. I don’t know how long, but…not much longer? And I know you’re looking for a wife.”
I laugh and turn in my seat to face her. “Hey, Iz?” When she looks up, her eyes are unsure. “Yeah, I want to get married eventually, but I’m not looking for a wife this week. I’m okay just spending time with you and seeing where things go.”
She’s biting her lip so hard I’m afraid she’ll draw blood. “That’s the thing. It can’t go anywhere, so is there really any point?”
I hesitate, trying to get a read on her. I’ve had women blow me off before, just flat-out uninterested. If that’s what’s happening here, I can handle it.
But something tells me there’s more.
“The point,” I say slowly, “is that I enjoy spending time with you. Talking. Hanging out. And yes, kissing. But if you’re not feelin’ it, I totally understand. No hard feelings, okay?”
I brace for the full brush-off. If she’s just not into me, here’s her chance to say so.
But color floods her cheeks, and the faintest smile tugs the corner of her mouth. “I like that, too.” The blush deepens. “The kissing, I mean. I like it very much.”
“All right.” The urge to reach for her is overwhelming, but I keep one hand on the wheel and the other safely on my lap. “No pressure then, but I’d like to see you again. Maybe dinner or something.”
“Even if it can’t go anywhere?”
“Even then.” There’s a desperate, hungry part of me that’s dying for more. That knows “temporary” could never be enough with Iz.
But I’ll take what I can get, so I offer an unassuming smile. “Text me whenever you want to see Kevin again?”
It’s a pathetic excuse, but she nods and smiles. “Deal.”
Then she pushes open the door and starts to swing her legs out. I’m so distracted by her legs that I nearly miss the movement on the path beyond James and Lily’s cabin. I squint at the shadows, a niggling unease moving up my arms.
“Izzy, wait.”
She looks at me. “What’s wrong?”
I glance back at the shadows and catch a full view of his face in the glow of James’s porch light. “Remember that guy a few days ago? The bald dude who took the wrong turn.”
Her brow furrows in confusion, but there’s a flash of something else in her eyes. “I think so?”
“I think that’s him.” I point to the shadows and see movement again. It’s dark and he’s got a dark stocking cap covering his bald head, but something about his posture gives me the creeps. “He’s not one of your brothers’ buddies or something?”
“What? No. I mean—I don’t believe so.”
Something’s off here, but I’ll be damned if I can guess what it is. “I can’t think of any other reason he’d be hanging around the owners’ cabins.” I unbuckle my seatbelt. “I’ll walk you to your door.”
Honestly, I’m not comfortable leaving her alone at all. This isn’t how I’d hoped to get invited inside, but I’m not going to feel good unless there’s someone watching out for her.
“It really won’t be necessary.” She bites her lip and glances back toward the cabins. “I’m certain he’s harmless.”
She doesn’t look certain, and I’m sure as hell not.
“I don’t think you should be alone.” It sounds like I’m hitting on her. Like I’m making excuses to get into her house.
Iz doesn’t take the bait. “It’s only a few feet away.”
The shadowy figure moves again, and the danger alert in my brain starts to ding. “What if you went to Mark and Chelsea’s?”
Izzy frowns. “I don’t want to impose.”
“Iz, there are bad guys out there.” Or right here, in the shadows, watching us talk in the truck. I’m not trying to scare her, but I don’t like this. “I’m texting Mark right now.”
She doesn’t argue as I draw my phone out and find Mark Bracelyn in my contacts. I type the words quickly as Iz watches.
Saw strange guy in shadows outside. Can I bring Izzy to you?
I hit “send” and look back at Izzy. “If I know Mark, he’ll be out here in fifteen seconds or less.”
Iz gives me a weak smile. “That long?” She bites her lip again. “Bradley?”
“Yeah?”
She hesitates. “I really like you. I like you a lot, okay? Too much. That’s the problem.”
I’m missing something here. “How is that a problem?”
“It just is.” She shakes her head a little sadly, then glances back toward the cabins.
The creepy guy has disappeared, which means he could be anywhere. Mark’s front door flies open and he lumbers outside with—okay, that’s an axe.
“You’ll be safe with your brother.” There’s an egotistical part of me wishing I could be the one protecting her, but Mark will do. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Mark’s almost to the truck now, and I lean toward Iz to greet him through her open door.
“Hey.” I no
d toward James’s place. “It’s probably nothing, but I saw a guy in the shadows over there.”
He frowns and reaches for his phone with the hand not gripping an axe. “I’ll call security.”
Before he can dial, Chelsea appears in the doorway of their cabin. Spotting Mark’s wife, Iz nearly sags with relief. “Thank you, Bradley. I had a great time.”
She’s out the door and hurrying toward her sister-in-law before I can respond. Mark looks at me, holding his phone without dialing. “What’d you see?”
“Hard to tell. Looked like someone I’ve seen before.” Is it a dick move to rat out a hotel guest? “Bald guy. Something about him seems a little…off.”
Mark nods once, but doesn’t acknowledge one way or another if he knows the guy. Resorts probably have rules like medical offices do with privacy.
“We’ll look into it.” Mark’s brow furrows as he glances back at his cabin. Through the front window, I see Chelsea leading Iz into the kitchen. “There’s technically no rule about resort guests wandering into this part of the property, but…”
“It’s weird, right?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “Kinda weird.”
Hell, maybe I’m being paranoid. Maybe the guy’s just a socially awkward recluse here for a little R&R. It’s not like I’ve seen him doing anything especially menacing.
“If I see him again, maybe I’ll strike up a conversation.” If nothing else, it’d give me a better sense of what the guy’s up to.
Mark shrugs. “Hell, maybe we invite him to poker night. Interrogate the son-of-a-bitch over five card stud.”
I can’t tell from his expression if he’s kidding or not. “That’s one way to get to know someone.”
He nods. “Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.”
I’m still not sure he’s joking, but the thought of having Mark Bracelyn as an enemy should scare the shit out of anyone. “So, you’ll look out for Iz.”
Mark nods once. “I’m on it.”
That’s my cue to leave, but I can’t seem to. “I just—she’s been through a lot, you know? The kidney transplant, finding out she’s got this whole other family…” I trail off, hesitant to say anything that might hint at my feelings for Iz. “I don’t want anything to happen to her.”