Page 92 of Marry Me, Doc

No, Wells, we aren't kicking you out of the chat. Stop trying.

Wells:

Fine.

Spencer:

Wanker.

Frost:

Such a sodding wanker.

Wells:

I'm saying this with the full effect of my accent: Piss off.

Chapter thirty-four

Arabella

My brother had never been to my ranch, and as I stood outside my house in the snow with him, I watched him for his reaction. His gaze wandered over my porch, to the left where my clinic building sat in the distance, and then to the other side where we could see the twenty-stall barn and paddocks. He angled a very Knox-like look down to me. "I'm not sure this was worth marrying Spencer."

I rolled my eyes and Spencer coughed. I bounced a look from the house to my tall, blond-haired brother. "Do you… want to come in…?"

"I'm good." He checked his watch. "If you're both alive, then I need to fly back to Eugene. I have three patients due any day, and Gemma bought paint for the walls while I was gone."

I lifted an eyebrow. "What kind of paint?"

"Why do you think I'm in a hurry? I don't know. She won't tell me." Knox looked long-suffering, but it was soft around his eyes and faintly upturned mouth. He loved that crazy little ferret.

"Sorry you had to fly out here," I said for the thirtieth time.

"Ara, you're my sister. If you end up in the hospital, I'm flying out. Period." Knox glanced at Spencer. "Maybe you, too—depends on the level of stupidity that got you in there."

"Fair," Spencer agreed. He had his arm in a sling because he'd fractured his shoulder ramming it against a shed door to get to me, and I wasn't sure I could ever get over what he'd gone through on my behalf.

Knox scrunched one side of his face speculatively. "Did you actually ride a horse?"

"Why is that the only thing people keep asking about?" Spencer scoffed. "Yes, I rode a horse. Poorly."

"You weren't bad actually," I offered.

"You were delirious. You don't get an opinion." Spencer put a hand on my lower back, pushing me toward the house. "We need to get inside, but thank you for swooping in with judgments, Rook. Good luck with your feral girlfriend."

"Anytime. Stay out of trouble, Spencer."

"Never," he declared, pulling me up the stairs.

When we were inside, I heard Knox's car leave, and Spencer turned me to face him. He brushed a limp strand of pink hair from my cheekbone, smiling gently. "Are you wishing he'd have stayed?"

I snorted. "No. Knox and I aren't those kinds of siblings, you know that. I love him, but we aren't exactly besties." I unzipped his coat for him. "But I'm a little uneasy about being home."

"Jay is gone," Spencer assured me. He had tucked his sling arm under the coat instead of putting it through the arm, so it slid off easily. "And I'll stay. You're safe here."

I’ll stay. I nodded, taking off my coat and hanging them both up for us. I knew Jay had been removed from the property, but we had decided not to press charges—it was hard to prove that Jay had conspired to kill us in a roundabout, panic-induced way. And he was going to face plenty of charges and fines for his partin the water debacle. Logically, I knew I'd never have to see him again, but it felt strange. I'd trusted that kid, and in the end, he'd been working against me the whole time in exchange for a measly five-thousand-dollar payout from Waylond.

Spencer moved stiffly toward the kitchen, but I steered him away and toward the couch. "It's my turn to take care of you, Sir Lancelot."