by Tawna Fenske
“I did no such thing.” I draw myself up straighter. “I simply saw you were floundering in your conversation with Blanka and wanted to make certain you didn’t lose sight of the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“And I’m grateful.” Jon grins at Dante. “Seriously, man—I’m guessing you’ve seen her in action.”
Dante holds my brother’s gaze for an uncomfortably long stretch of time. Even James starts shifting in his seat, his brow furrowed as the men await a response. I hold my breath, praying he doesn’t say something horrid. That he doesn’t ruin everything with a few careless words. Maybe I should take the baby and just—
“Yeah.” Dante clears his throat and it sounds like gunfire. “There’s this one time Isabella got angry. She was fourteen, maybe fifteen, and some boy wouldn’t leave her alone. A damn viscount or something. At least five years older than her and an entitled piece of shit.”
My gaze flicks to Mark, who is too engrossed in the story to mention the cursing. I glance at the other men—James, Austin, Jon, Sean, Brandon—and see they’re hanging on Dante’s every word.
I’m listening as well, though I’m not sure where this story’s going. I remember the viscount, but not this particular tale.
“Duchess Francesca,” he continues. “That’s Isabella’s mother. She instructed her to ignore it. That the boy came from a prominent family. You know how it is.”
I’m not sure they do, though it’s possible. Some of these men grew up attending elite boarding schools. Perhaps it’s similar.
“Law school was full of douchebags like that.” James flicks a glance at Mark. “D-bags like that.”
Mark gives a grudging nod, but doesn’t take his eyes off Dante. I dare a glance at Bradley and see he’s watching me instead. Heat rushes down my arms, and I fight back memories of his hands on my breasts, his tongue moving between my—
“Anyway,” Dante continues, “the little prick cornered her in the rose garden. I was close by, but not too close. Don’t think she knew I was there.”
I shake my head mutely, dumbfounded to realize where he’s going with this story. “He grabbed me,” I say. “The viscount. If he hadn’t, I never would have pushed him into my mother’s rose bush.”
Dante nods, and I could swear there’s a glint of respect in his cold blue eyes. He holds my gaze a few seconds before continuing. “By the time I got there, Her Ladyship was long gone. Took an hour to pull the little asshole out of the thorns.”
Sean laughs. “I’m guessing you weren’t in any hurry to make it happen.”
One edge of Dante’s mouth twitches. “He may have fallen in a few more times.”
He also may have vanished from the royal court not long afterward. Another memory hits me, a conversation I overheard between my father and the young viscount’s father.
“We think it would be best if you refrained from visiting the palace again in the future,” the Duke said stiffly from within his study. “If you return again with Viscount Archibald, I will not be held accountable for what my man might do.”
My man.
As I study the side of Dante’s face, I wonder for the first time how that felt. Was it just part of the job, or did it bother him being addressed as property?
I know how I felt being treated that way. Like a cocker spaniel or a floor lamp instead of an actual person. Maybe we’re more alike than I thought, Dante and I.
Bradley stands up and gestures to the fridge. “Can I get anyone a beer? I grabbed a half-rack of Black Butte Porter.”
“I’ll take one.” Sean coos at the baby once more before handing him off to Jonathan. “Which of us is next to make one of these?”
Jon grins as Brian gurgles up at him and bats his chin with one chubby hand. “Breeding, you mean? Let me get through the wedding first.”
The conversation flows to a discussion of family planning, and I stand there wondering if this is what all American men talk about at poker night. Maybe it’s just my brothers. Bradley chimes in with a statistic about male fertility declining after age forty and I catch myself wondering if there’s a message in there for me.
Not everything’s about you, Izzy.
But I’m nearly thirty and childless and maybe a little in love with the man I can’t bring myself to look at as he returns to the table with three bottles of beer. He hands one off to Sean and another to James before reclaiming his seat. I feel him watching me, and I wonder if that’s my cue to grab the baby and leave.
“Hey,” Bradley murmurs softly enough the others don’t seem to hear. When I look at him, he’s smiling. “I kinda want to high-five you for pushing that viscount kid.”
I keep my eyes off Dante, though my peripheral vision tells me he’s slipped fully into the room, claiming the seat beside Jonathan. “Yes, well, there’s more to the story.”
“Oh?” Bradley pries the cap off his beer, and I force myself not to stare at his hands.
I press my lips together, hesitating. “My mother was displeased.”
“At the jerk who grabbed you?”
I swallow hard and shake my head. “A little.” But the bulk of her anger was directed at me, at my inability to play nice with the viscount to keep his interest in me piqued.
“Isabella,” she scolded, shutting the parlor door behind us. “You know what’s at stake here. If you develop a reputation for being difficult—”
“He never came back,” I say now, interrupting my own dark turn of thoughts. “The viscount. Last I heard, he married a baroness from London. Or maybe Luxembourg, I forget.”
At least it wasn’t me. That’s all I cared about, though I see now I was short-sighted. The things I know at thirty that I didn’t know at fifteen could fill the entire Ponderosa Resort lodge.
Bradley’s watching me like he knows there’s more I’d like to say. Like he realizes there’s something I’m not telling him, which is absolutely true. I square my shoulders and turn to face my brothers.
“All right, gentlemen.” I hold out my arms and try not to notice my hands are shaking. “This baby’s mother tasked me with keeping the young man entertained. Time for me to do that.”
There’s some grumbling as the baby gets passed between uncles, his cherubic face creasing into laughter as Mark grabs him for one last bounce on his knee. Then I’m wrapping my arms around the sweet, fragrant bundle and pulling him to my chest. He feels wonderful in my arms, all warm and snuggly and full of sweet baby sighs. For an instant I get lost looking down at that darling little face.
As I move away to take him back to my cabin, I hear footsteps behind me. “Iz, wait.”
I turn to see Bradley on his feet holding a green and purple diaper bag. “Want me to carry this next door for you?”
It’s more than an offer of service. It’s a chance to steal a few moments alone with him, to leave my brothers here speculating about what’s happening between us.
But I feel Dante’s eyes on me, so I shake my head. “I’ve got it,” I tell Bradley. “Could you just tuck it over my shoulder like that? Perfect, thank you.”
His hand grazes my shoulder as he draws back, but his gaze doesn’t leave me. Not right away. He smiles down at me. “That looks good on you.”
“Oh.” I swallow hard and try not to flush. “Yes, well, the doctors aren’t entirely certain I could conceive, so—”
“The sweater.” His grin widens as he lowers his voice. “That sweater is sexy as hell.”
“Thank you.” I wish the floor would swallow me up. What an idiot to presume he’d be talking about me as a mother or anything in that ballpark.
I have no right to think that way, and I can hardly meet his eyes as I turn to go. “Right, well. Thank you for your help.”
I turn away before he can respond, but I feel eyes on me as I walk down the hall. Bradley’s? Dante’s?
I don’t know. I hold the baby tighter, wondering how much longer I can keep this up.
Chapter 10
Bradley
I
’ve played poker with these guys for a few years, so I know their tells like I know the symptoms of hyperthyroidism.
In Jon Bracelyn’s case, they’re similar: A slight flush, a bit of twitchiness. It’s the opposite of his brother, Sean, who slumps in his chair looking deliberately bored when he has a kickass hand he doesn’t want anyone to know about.
“Call.” James Bracelyn tosses a handful of chips into the pot, a master at hiding his thoughts.
I watch Austin study him, using his cop mojo to get a read on the unflappable eldest Bracelyn. My guess is Chief Dugan sees the same thing I do—the faintest furrow in James’s brow, the way he rests his elbows on the table when he’d never normally be so casual.
“I’m in.” Mark is harder to read, with his bushy beard and perpetual scowl. His tell? “Anyone want this last cupcake, or can I have it?”
There it is. I resist the urge to smile, pleased with my ability to gauge the table. Everyone except—
“In.” Dan pushes a pile of chips across the table, his scowl never wavering. For the last hour, I’ve tried to get a read on the guy. Nada. Zip. Nothing.
The only thing I picked up on is the slight bulge at his ankle when he stood to use the restroom. I learned to wear an ankle holster during tactical training, so my money’s on that. From the slight flicker in Chief Dugan’s eyes, he caught the same thing. Does Austin have his service weapon somewhere close?
We go a few more rounds, with Dante winning two more hands and amassing a small fortune in poker chips. James normally dominates the table, but he’s distracted by his phone, scowling down at the screen periodically before typing out hurried responses.
“So, Dan.” Sean leans back in his seat and studies the other man across the table. “What is it you do for a living?”
Dante looks up, his expression unreadable. “I’m in the service industry.”
Austin cocks his head. “What sort of service?”
“Whatever needs doing.”
“Huh.” Sean lays his cards on the table and shakes his head. “I’m out. Anyone want another beer?”
A couple guys nod, but not me. I’m trying to figure out how to steer the conversation back to Dante’s job. Back to whatever the hell brought him here to the resort.
Dante’s watching me, too, and the result is a couple guys weirdly staring at each other instead of their cards.
He’s first to break the silence. “What branch of the military were you in?”
I push aside my discarded cards and work to keep my expression cool. “Army.” I clear my throat. “Izzy mentioned it?”
“Nope.”
He doesn’t say anything else. Just goes back to petting Long Long Peter, one scarred hand stroking the bunny’s soft back. I’m not sure if it’s comfort or terror keeping the creature glued to his lap, but I’m trusting Mark to jump in if his pet seems distressed.
“How about you, Dan?” Austin leans forward and gives Dante his congenial, good-cop stare. “You seem like someone who spent time in the armed forces.”
“Yep.”
This time, the one-word answer won’t cut it. All the brothers stare him down, along with their cousin, Brandon Brown. He’s married to Jade, the reindeer rancher next door, and he’s also a decorated Marine. Jon leans forward, too, and I remember he spent time in the Coast Guard. That’s three of us representing the American military, and all of us fixed on Dante.
“Which arm of the service?” Brandon folded earlier in this hand, so he’s got all the time in the world to grill Dante. “I learned a little bit about Dovlano’s military, though I can’t say I know all the branches.”
“Red Blade.” His voice is gravelly, but even. “Retired.”
Brandon whistles low under his breath. “Special Forces.”
I’m familiar with the Red Blades. A bit like America’s Navy SEALS on steroids or Green Berets bred with wolverines. “Those guys are pretty badass,” I remark mildly. “How long did you serve?”
Dan looks at me a long time, like he’s deciding something. I hold his gaze, not willing to blink first.
“I don’t like to talk about it,” he says stiffly.
“Fair enough.” Not like I’m a huge fan of rehashing my years of active duty, or the reasons I left.
I’m deciding whether to probe again when Sean stands up. “I’m putting in another round of bourbon-glazed wings,” he says. “Who wants more?”
A few hands are raised, Dan’s included. He’s careful not to jostle the bunny on his lap. I consider what Izzy made me promise about not telling her brothers Dante’s a hitman. I kept my word, but it’s clear they’ve done some sleuthing on their own. Probably a background check, courtesy of Austin, and maybe some voodoo lawyer shit from James. How much do they know?
Beside me, Mark shoves half a cupcake in his mouth and stares at Dan as he chews. “You paid through the end of the month.” It’s a statement, not a question, so Dan doesn’t respond. “You here working on something in particular?”
Dante takes his time answering, stroking a hand down the bunny’s back. “More of a recon mission.”
I’m trying to decide how to read that when James responds. “We’d certainly never dissuade a guest from an extended stay,” he says. “But this place isn’t exactly budget-friendly.”
“I’m aware.” Dan looks down at his lap. “What kind of rabbit is this?”
Mark frowns. “Bunny mutt.”
“That’s a breed?”
He shrugs. “Got him at the Humane Society. He has a litterbox and everything.”
Dan’s face shows the first real flicker of emotion I’ve seen all night. “No kidding?” He shakes his head slowly. “Pigs and rabbits living in the house. The rest of you have odd pets, too?”
Sean shrugs. “Three-legged cat.”
“Cats here, too.” Jon grins. “Five of them. Don’t judge.”
“We’re the dog guys.” Austin jerks a thumb at James. “And Brandon has his hands full of reindeer, though I’m pretty sure they don’t go in the house.”
“Reindeer?” Dan’s eyes widen. “Real ones?”
I don’t know whether to be charmed or freaked out by this guy’s interest in animals. If it weren’t for the fact that he kills people for a living, I could see us being pals.
“So you’re an animal guy,” I say. “Usually the mark of a decent human.”
Dante looks at me a long time. “Is that so?”
I shrug. “In my experience.”
“Huh.” He frowns, looking thoughtful. “Can’t say that’s true,” he says slowly. “But I sure like ‘em. Pigs especially.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, but Brandon pipes up. “We’ve got pigs and goats and some sheep out at the reindeer ranch,” he says. “Come over sometime. We’ll give you a tour.”
Sean laughs. “If you’re real nice, maybe Brandon’ll put on his Santa suit.”
There’s some jostling between the two, which is par for the course between two guys who married sisters. They couldn’t be more different, Sean and Brandon, which makes sense. The King sisters aren’t much alike either, though the bond between them is one I’ve admired my whole life.
What was Izzy’s life like, growing up an only child? I can’t imagine it, being raised without a sibling. Just having someone to share experiences, to go through life together—it makes me want to go home and call Julia just to check on her.
“I think I’m gonna take off.” Dan stands up cautiously, cradling Long Long Peter like a delicate loaf of bread. “Is it okay to just put him on the ground?”
Mark gives a gruff nod. “Probably has to take a dump.”
I watch Dan’s face as he eases the animal onto the floor, then looks on as Peter bunny-hops into the family room where his litter box is. I might be imagining things, but there’s a wistful look on Dante’s face. “Pets are the best.”
No one says anything to that because it’s kind of a weird thing for a hitman to volunteer. Also, it’s getting late.
“I should go, too.” Sean lays his cards down and stands up with a sheepish look. “Gotta work on that baby thing.”
James frowns. “There’s a level of detail I definitely did not need.”
Laughing, Jon gets up as well. “That’s my cue. We’ve got wedding shit to do. Can’t believe it’s coming up so fast.”
It dawns on me Dante is the only one in this room who’s not attending the wedding. Is it weird to worry about hurting a hitman’s feelings? He looks like he’s just read my mind and holds eye contact for an uncomfortably long time. “Thanks for inviting me to poker night,” he says at last. “I had a good time.”
Despite the fact that he has yet to smile or laugh or resemble a human with a pulse, I kinda believe him.
“No problem.” I stand at the same time he does and wonder if I should shake his hand. “Glad you could join us.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Waving one meaty paw, he strides toward the door, pausing to pull on his black jacket. I watch him walk out the door, then pause at the bottom of the steps.
“Hey, doc?” Mark’s voice jerks my attention off Dante, and I turn to see him frowning. “You mind if I ask you a medical question?”
“Fire away.” I sit back down, glancing quickly out the door. Did Dante go left toward his own cabin, or right toward Izzy’s?
I catch Austin’s eye, doing my best to telegraph concern. The chief stands up and tosses his cards on the table. “I’m out,” he says as everyone else around the table gets to their feet. “Better go grab the kiddo.”
Brandon claps Mark on the shoulder. “Thanks for hosting again.”
I watch through the window as Austin heads toward Izzy’s place. Picking up his son, or checking on Izzy? Either way, it lets me relax, so I turn back to Mark. “What can I help with?”
“It’s Chelsea.” He scrubs a hand over his beard, Mark’s universal sign for discomfort. “I want to bring her things to make her stomach feel better, but she says all the usual stuff makes her queasy.”
“Yeah, pregnancy can mess with that, especially early on.”
“Right, so…I know it’s supposed to be about pickles and ice cream, but Chelsea doesn’t like pickles. You think capers would work?”