Mountain Cure (Stone Brothers Duet, #2) Read online

  Names, characters, locations, and events come from the authors’ imagination or are used fictiously. This story is presented as a creative work of fiction. Any resemblance to real individuals, alive or deceased, events, or locations, is entirely coincidental. All characters depicted are over the age of 18. This book is intended for mature audiences only.

  Cover by JODIELOCKS Designs. ♥

  The contents herein are protected by copyright law and may not be reproduced or distributed in any form by any means, without the authors’ written permission, except for reviewers, who may quote short excerpts for the purpose of review. Uploading, copying, or distributing any part of this book, other than short excerpts for review purposes, constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property.

  Copyright © 2019 Bethany Jadin. All rights reserved.

  www.bethanyjadin.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Disclaimer

  More to Read

  Authors’ Note

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  Epilogue

  More to Read

  STONE BROTHERS DUET

  1 Mountain Fever

  2 Mountain Cure

  THE CODE SERIES

  1 Vested Interest

  2 Hidden Agenda

  3 Broken Process

  4 Risky Business

  5 Perfect Design

  Bethany Jadin is the pen name of two friends who write steamy, unconventional romance together. They love telling stories full of humor, heart, and lots of heat. Their promise to readers is that you will always find sizzling chemistry and heroes worth falling heads-over-hells for inside every book.

  Join Bethany Jadin’s mailing list and their readers’ group, Jadin's Maidens, for book chats, sneak peeks, and to be the first to know about upcoming books!

  Authors’ Note

  In the remote wilderness, a wicked blizzard is hammering Stone Cabin with fierce winds and heavy snowfall.

  But inside, things are getting sizzling hot.

  One mountain rescue, two nights by the fire, and three rugged, hot-as-sin brothers, who all want her...

  Mountain Cure is book two of the Stone Brothers Duet and it completes this reverse harem story.

  This romance duet contains:

  • Possessive, devilishly-handsome men with dirty mouths, firm hands, and hard, unprotected wood.

  • A fiery, heartwarming romance that leaves a trail of flames on the way to the happily-ever-after.

  • Intense, irresistible chemistry that will light you on fire and singe your e-reader.

  • A heart-tugging, emotional rollercoaster of a storyline that will punch you right in the feels.

  These two full-length books have lots of feel-good sweetness, witty laugh-aloud humor, and enough steam to melt the snow right off the mountains.

  Don't say we didn't warn you...

  1

  “OH,” ADDIE SAYS AS she looks up from tinkering with the camera. “What’s going on here?”

  Wes brings the truck to a stop and slams it into park angrily while Colt clears his throat, his lips pressed together in a hard line as he gives me a look.

  Yeah, I damn well know Addie doesn’t need to be bothered with this — and even if I was feeling inclined to tell her, there’s no easy way to sum it all up in a hurry.

  “I’m sorry, Addie,” I say, fury growing inside me with every breath. “Do you mind staying in the truck for a few minutes? It’s probably... family stuff.”

  A worried look passes over her. “Your family? Is everyone okay?”

  “Someone better be fucking dead,” I say with a snarl, because I know already that whatever this is, Frank’s about to fuck up our day. The best I can hope for is news that he’s finally drank himself to death.

  Addie’s eyes are wide, and Colt shoots a look at me.

  “Sorry,” I tell her. “I’m sure everything’s fine. Just hang on. This should only take a minute.”

  The boys and I exit the truck in grave silence and walk up the driveway together as Sheriff Whitaker gets out of his idling cruiser.

  “Hey, boys. Sorry to come up here like this. I would have called, but you know.”

  Yeah, no fucking reception up here, just how we like it. I try not to let my mounting anger show as I offer the sheriff a handshake.

  “What’s he gone and done now?” Wes asks, cutting right to the point as he shakes Whitaker’s hand.

  Whitaker purses his lips, his eyes glancing to Addie in the truck. “Well, it’s not good.”

  “Never is,” Colt says dryly, looking like he’s waiting for the sentencing from a death squad.

  “He had a gun on him when he broke into Stan’s Bar this time. And Stan was still there this time, too — in the back, taking stock.”

  Colt’s jaw goes tight, and he curses under his breath while shaking his head, and Wes lets out a loud, “Fuck.”

  “Anyone hurt?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” Sheriff Whitaker nods. “Your dad. The gun wasn’t loaded, thank God, but Stan roughed him up pretty damn good.”

  “Serves him right,” Wes says. “I’m surprised Stan didn’t just beat him to death this time around.”

  Sheriff Whitaker grimaces. “He damn near did. Three broken ribs, a concussion, fractured jaw, bruised kidneys — the works.”

  “He should’ve finished the job,” I say, my tone full of vile.

  Whitaker rests his hands on his big utility belt. “Well, the good news is, Stan’s not pressing charges if your dad doesn’t go and try to file some bullshit lawsuit for getting his ass kicked.”

  Colt closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Christ. Him and his stupid fucking lawyer.”

  “He’s been cleared to move out of ICU to a regular room,” the sheriff continues, “but you know Frank.”

  “Lemme guess, he’s already yelling about getting released so he can go drown himself in vodka?” Colt asks, his face snarled in disgust.

  Whitaker nods. “Given the condition he’s in, the doctors won’t let him out of the hospital on his own reconnaissance. If you ask me, they’d be happy to send him packing, but I think they’re covering their asses. If they let him go, next thing ya know, he’d be saying he wasn’t in his right mind to sign any release paperwork because of the concussion and he’d be trying to sue them for malpractice.”

  “Of course, he would,” I spit. “And his shitty ambulance-chasing attorney would be all over that.”

  “Well, Frank’s down there raising all sorts of mortal hell about it, and it’s causing a damn scene. I sure as shit don’t want to have to assign a deputy to him. My guys have better things to do than babysit him.”

  Colt sighs angrily, his expression dark. “Don’t we all.”

  Sheriff Whitaker grunts, and his voice becomes low, confidential. “Regardless of whether Stan presses charges or not, I should arrest Frank for having that damn firearm and violating probation — the only reason I’m not is for Stan. The man’s convinced that if I do, Frank will spend his time in jail just dreaming up ways to hurt his family when he gets out. So, against my better judgment, I’m willing to let this go, if Frank can let it go, too, and we can all go back to work.”

  “So, what exactly do you need us for?” Colt says, hooking a thumb on his jeans, his shoulders tense.

  “I was hoping you boys could come ch
eck him outta the hospital before he drives everyone crazy over there. Get him home and calm him down somehow. Talk him out of going kamikaze on Stan.”

  Goddammit.

  A fresh surge of rage floods through me.

  I fucking knew it. Fucking Frank ruins the day, again.

  I wish I could have been the one to kick his ass.

  Colt rubs his temples and lets out a long, slow breath, trying to stay calm in front of the sheriff. Ever since we were kids, he's been the one taking the lead on handling Frank’s shit. He stares at the ground quietly for a long time before straightening up and nodding at the sheriff.

  “Alright,” he says finally. “We’ll be there in less than an hour. Just have to drop a friend off first.”

  Whitaker tips his head at us with relief. “I appreciate it, boys.”

  Colt sticks his hand out to the sheriff one more time, and they exchange a curt handshake.

  “We’ll take care of it,” my brother promises.

  The sheriff gets back in his cruiser, turns it around, and makes a hasty exit down our narrow driveway.

  As soon as the car is out of sight, Wes kicks at the ground, sending a shower of snow and gravel high into the air. “Motherfucker,” he roars, cursing at the trees, the mountains, the heavens, his chest heaving with anger.

  Colt and I just watch, nothing else to add.

  Wes has summed up the situation adequately.

  I slap a hand on Colt’s shoulder, and he balls his hands up into tight fists as we all trudge back to the truck.

  Might as well get this over with. I climb in behind the steering wheel this time, because Wes is damn near shaking with rage and Colt has gone quiet — which is never a good sign.

  Addie says nothing as we get in, just watching us buckle in silence, her expression wary and concerned.

  “I’m so sorry Addie,” I tell her, hating every fucking word about to come out of my mouth. “We have to take you back to the resort. There’s a situation we need to deal with.”

  She lets out a heavy breath as though she’s been holding it in, and I can’t tell if it’s relief that we’re offering to take her back, or disappointment that our day has been interrupted.

  “It’s okay, I understand,” she says immediately, but her voice is tinged with that same hint of sadness she had earlier, and it damn near kills me.

  I grip the steering wheel and squeeze my eyes shut.

  We couldn’t just have this day.

  This time, it’s no joke. We really do have to take her back, and there’s nothing good waiting for us in town at the end of the long drive down, just a big fucking disaster.

  It usually takes a couple hours at the hospital to straighten things out, then another couple hours to get Dad home, dump all the alcohol in his house, and find all the places he’s stashed shit. We’ll have to find that gun and bring it to the sheriff’s office as well.

  But that’s not the worst part.

  The worst is having to fucking talk sense into Frank, when all I really wanna do is smash my fist into his face repeatedly or better yet, throw him off the top of one of these cliffs up here. We know places where they’d never find his body — not that anyone would miss him in the first goddamn place.

  Our whole fucking day’s going to be shot.

  A day we were planning on spending doing something a million fucking times more enjoyable than what we have to deal with now.

  But, there might just be one thing we can do. Wes’s comment when we were standing there in the clearing watching the deer eat out of her hand — I liked the idea then, and I like it even better now.

  “Tank and Natalie’s thing still on for tonight?” I ask Colt, who's sitting beside me, staring out the front windshield, stone-faced.

  “When have they ever cancelled?” he replies.

  “What do you think?” I tip my head toward the backseat, at Addie.

  He meets my gaze for a moment, and I know what he’s thinking.

  She probably wouldn’t be interested, not after this.

  “Wouldn’t hurt to ask her,” I say quietly.

  Truth is, I need to know I’m going to see Addie again, before we drop her off. Otherwise, I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the next eight hours of hell.

  “Ask me what?” Addie’s voice is soft, tinged with both anxiety and curiosity.

  Wes is the first to speak up. “A couple friends of ours are having a bonfire. They do it every year around the holidays. It’s goes all night, and it’s usually a lot of fun.”

  “You have friends?” she says, her jesting banter instantly lightening the mood several notches.

  Even Colt smiles.

  Wes lets out an offended guffaw. “Yes, smartass, we have friends.”

  I look in the rearview mirror at her as I start the truck. “You wanna come? We can pick you up from the resort tonight if you’re interested.”

  Addie nods, a genuine smile on her face for the first time since we pulled in the driveway and saw the police cruiser. She hugs the camera to her chest. “Absolutely — count me in.”

  2

  I’VE NEVER BEEN TO a party I’d even remotely consider a good ole boys’ affair. In fact, when I called it a party, the guys practically had a fit. They don’t attend parties — it’s a get together.

  Mmkay. Whatever.

  Just like Wes reads science fiction, not romance.

  I rolled my eyes at them then, and I do so even more now that we’re here, because this is most certainly my definition of a party.

  The sun set some time ago, and the temperatures in the mountains have plunged to near freezing, but it’s plenty warm right here at the bonfire.

  The guys called it Tank’s backyard, but it’s really a large field with enough room for a couple dozen big trucks to back up in a wide circle around the enormous fire. The bonfire is fueled by huge logs at the base, then a massive pile of four-foot square wood pallets, topped with a tower of brush. The flames in the center are easily thirty feet high.

  As we drove in and parked, the guys explained to me that as fields are cleared for livestock and farming, and when debris is cleaned up after storms, people bring it here by the truckload. Tank and Natalie collect it all year long, saving up for the bonfire. The pallets come from a factory in town where several of their friends work.

  First, the heaviest snowstorm I’ve ever seen.

  Then, my first frozen waterfall, and feeding a deer out of my freaking hand. I still can’t believe it.

  And now, the biggest bonfire on earth.

  These guys are giving me a lot of firsts — and that’s just counting the things I can talk about in public.

  When the guys invited me to come with them tonight, I pictured a cute little campfire thing. A couple of us sitting around on logs, roasting marshmallows and talking over a few beers. But when these guys and their friends do something, they do it big.

  The glow and heat from the bonfire are intense. I can feel the warmth on my face without even getting close. The tailgates are down on all the trucks, and everyone has brought a cooler full of beer and food.

  A few trucks have their rear-facing flood lights turned on, further illuminating the space, and there’s a killer sound system pumping out modern country music.

  It’s not just the scene that’s unfamiliar and interesting. It’s how bare and honest these people are.

  I’ve been offered more friendly handshakes and heartwarming hugs tonight than I have in the past... well, ever.

  And the men here — they’re nothing like Jason and his three-piece-suit lawyer buddies. These guys have a Budweiser in one hand and the other arm draped around their girl, lavishing a manly attention on their ladies that Jason would consider uncivilized.

  People aren’t touchy-feely where I come from. And public display of affection is considered impolite. But I’m starting to wonder what’s so uncivilized about kissing your girl in public. Isn’t this the stuff that makes the world go round?

  These
guys don’t seem to care about delicate sensibilities or who’s casting a disapproving eye at them. They aren’t afraid to wrap their arms around their ladies, to lay a sweet kiss on her in front of their buddies — or even to grab her ass with a playful pinch and make her laugh as she walks away.

  I like these people. They're so... warm and genuine.

  I’m just getting settled in when our host for the night approaches — though the guys rebelled when I called him that as we drove over here.

  Colt had rolled his eyes with a huff and said, Dammit, woman, we’re going to Tank’s house. He’s like a brother to us, not a goddamn gin-swilling wall street cat in a designer suit throwing some fancy shindig.

  The big man exchanges greetings with the guys, lots of smiles and shoulder slaps between the four of them, then he turns to me, extending a large, stout hand.

  “Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Tank, and that’s my wife Natalie,” he says, pointing over his shoulder to a pretty woman with wavy blonde hair, wearing an oversized red knit sweater.

  His hand swallows mine as we exchange handshakes, and I give him a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me crash the get-together.”

  Tank lifts an eyebrow. “Crash this thing? Oh no, I’m glad you came — you’re more than welcome, believe me. Natalie and I’ve been eager to meet the woman these guys can’t shut up about.”

  Remi clears his throat while the other guys shift uncomfortably, their eyes darting at me and each other. Tank looks over at them, and Remi shoots him a glare.

  The big man just shakes his head with a grin, like cat’s out of the bag, boys before he turns back to me. “Well, apparently I need to... uh, go check on the meat in the smoker. Please, grab a drink from our big cooler over there and make yourself at home.”