bit toward Izzy. “With you.”
“Sure, why not?”
There are a million reasons why not, starting with the fact that this guy might be deranged.
But if there’s a deranged lunatic following Izzy around Ponderosa Resort, doesn’t it make sense to get him in a room with me, the police chief, her four brothers, and her cousin the Marine?
Dan keeps staring, and I’m beginning to wonder if he’ll answer. When he clears his throat, I feel Izzy flinch.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll play poker with you.”
“Great.” I fight to keep the surprise from my voice as I rattle off details of when and where, hoping Mark doesn’t kill me for putting our half-baked plan into action. Dan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a hint of bemusement in his eyes.
“I’ll bring stew,” he says. “Elk.”
“You’re a hunter then?” I’m pretty sure elk season ended a while ago, but maybe Dan’s been here longer than I thought.
“Sure.” He gives a sharp nod, then glances at Kevin. “Nice pig you got there. Looks like one I had as a kid.”
Izzy tenses beside me. “Thank you.”
He shakes his head a little sadly. “I loved that goddamn pig.”
Before I can respond, Dan gives another grunt and ambles past us on the path. He moves in an odd diagonal line, like he’s trying to avoid turning his back to us. I watch him vanish into the fog, unable to shake the sense I’m missing something big.
The instant he’s out of earshot, I turn to Izzy. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, of course.” She licks her lips, pupils dilating. I don’t kid myself into thinking it’s still the effects of the kiss. “It’s just—” she bites her lip, eyes fixed on mine. “Bradley.”
There’s something different in how she says my name. Something that makes the hair prickle at the back of my neck. “Yeah?”
“Um, there’s something you should know.”
A faint roar in the back of my head tells me I should have seen this coming. He’s her boyfriend. Her lover. Her—
“I have to tell you something important.” She squeezes her eyes closed, then opens them again quickly. “Really important.”
I fight to keep a fierce wave of disappointment from crushing me. “You know him?”
She doesn’t nod. Doesn’t shake her head either. Just looks right into my eyes like she’s weighing the weight of her words, the weight of the whole world.
“Come.” That hollow syllable lilts with Lady Isabella Blankenship, but the unease in her eyes is all Izzy. “We’ll talk in my cabin.”
Chapter 7
Isabella
The walk back to my cabin takes approximately eight thousand years. It’s partly that we stop every ten feet so Kevin can sniff something.
It’s mostly that I’m dragging my feet, buying time to decide exactly how much to tell Bradley about Dante.
Dan, I remind myself, willing to concede it’s an appropriate nickname. If he wants to blend in, that’s a start.
Then again, blending in doesn’t involve following me around a luxury resort like some predatory cat that’s been shaved and dosed with steroids. What exactly is he doing here? I have my suspicions, but until I know, I need to be careful.
“Let me take your coat.” I nudge the door shut behind Bradley and shift into hostess mode. “Can I get you some tea or maybe cocoa? Or what about dinner—it’s almost dinner time.”
He eyes me oddly as he peels off his coat and hooks it on the coatrack beside the door. “I’m okay.”
I twist my hands together, feeling awkward and a little useless. “I have marshmallows for the cocoa. I tried to buy some at the grocery store, but Sean pointed out the sugar content, which isn’t great for someone with a transplanted kidney.” I’m definitely babbling but can’t seem to stop myself. Even Kevin’s watching me warily, though it might be the marshmallow comment.
“Sean makes his own marshmallows from scratch, and he doesn’t use gelatin,” I continue for Kevin’s benefit, “so there’s no pork product whatsoever. They’re for resort guests to make s’mores, but he made a special batch for me with all my dietary restrictions taken into account and—”
“Cocoa sounds good, thank you.” Bradley’s blue eyes hold mine for a few beats before he tilts his chin toward my dining room table. “Want to sit there, or on the sofa?”
This feels like a test, one I’m probably doomed to fail. “Sofa,” I decide. “It’s easier. More casual.”
Two things I fear this conversation won’t be. Bradley must have the same sense because he nods stiffly and makes his way to the couch. I’m still holding Kevin’s leash, so I