He laughs, looking back up at me. “Do you have any idea how wrong that sounds?”
I wave his silliness away. “Oh poo. Admit it. You’re impressed with my poetic expressions.”
He laughs. “If that’s poetry, I’m Deputy Dog.”
“What’s that? Your nickname?”
He closes his eyes and leans his head back on the wall. “I’m taking a nap. Don’t bother me.”
I stare at the magazines on the low table in front of us. There’s one featuring NASCAR, one about corvettes, and one covered in motorcycles. Who stocks this place with reading material, anyway? Jeff Gordon? Talk about lame. No way can I abandon my line of questioning when this is all I have to look forward to.
“So, what did you mean when you said you started overlooking things? Or was it her that started overlooking things?”
He doesn’t respond to I keep prompting.
“What did she overlook? Was it your personal hygiene problems? Your lack of social graces? Your terrible taste in hatwear?”
He remains still, as if he can’t even hear me, and for a moment I think I’m going to have to get pushy to get my answers, but then he surprises me.
“No, it wasn’t any of that. And it was both of us, I guess, not just her or me.”
“What are some things you overlooked?” I ask. I’m on the edge of my seat, knowing I’m about to get some juicy stuff.
“I don’t know.”
“Sure you do. Tell me. I swear I’ll keep your secrets.”
He opens one eye and stares at me with it. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Of course. My brain is a steel trap. Nothing gets out until I release it, and I don’t release things unless I have permission.”
“You? You’re the grand repository of secrets?” He closes his eye and then he kind of snorts. I think it was a snort. Or maybe he has allergies.
“Exactly. That’s my brain. So tell me.”
He sighs loudly and lets his head wobble from left to right a few times before he starts talking again.
“Well, I guess I overlooked the fact that she wasn’t entirely happy with having me as a husband.”
“That’s kind of a big one.”
He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. “You’re telling me.”
“What else?” I prompt. I’ve got him on a roll now.
“She overlooked the fact that I didn’t like Hawaii.” He sounds particularly bitter about that one, especially when he scowls at the ceiling.
I try to figure out how Hawaii could be connected, but I give up pretty quickly. I don’t want him falling asleep on me while I try to decode his messages. “Um … confusing?”
He talks and sighs at the same time. “She wanted to go to Hawaii for a honeymoon. I had no interest in that, but it didn’t matter. We did whatever Ginny wanted to do, always. She was the leader of the show.”
“There always has to be a leader, you know,” I say, knowing I could never be content to follow some guy around like a lap dog. That’s why I’m never going to Abu Dhabi. If I had to walk five paces behind some guy all day, I’d for sure be giving him flat tires all the time on purpose. That would probably end in divorce or a public flogging or a stoning or something. Nah. I’m definitely not cut out for that following mindlessly stuff. Plus I’d have to wear one of those all over body robes and cover up my gorgeous hair and adorable outfits. Talk about a waste of effort.
“Yeah, I get that,” Ian says, sitting up in his chair a little but still slouching, “but it doesn’t always have to be the same person being out front, you know?” He looks at me. “It shouldn’t always be the same person. Once in a while you gotta let the other person call the shots, have the final say. Otherwise …” he shrugs, “…they get lost.”
“What do you mean, they get lost?”
Now he’s gesturing with his hands as he speaks. It’s like he has an invisible audience out in the waiting room in front of us, but it’s still just me in here. I can’t believe how animated he’s become.
“See, being the decision maker puts you out front and the other person behind, right? And some people are okay with being back there in the shadows, but most people aren’t. They need some time to shine too. But you put someone who doesn’t want to be in the shadows too much, they start to lose a part of themselves.” His face twists into something bitter. “I lost myself somewhere along the way with Ginny and I don’t know that I’ll ever get him back.”
“Wow. That sounds massively depressing.”
He laughs once as he stares at the ground. “Tell me about it.” He rubs his hands together, as if he’s trying to get a cramp out of his muscles that will never go away.
I can’t believe a big, strong, smart guy like him is so messed up over something so not a big deal. People break up all the time. Since when does it mean someone died?
I’m so disappointed in his pee-poor attitude. Why has everyone let him go on like this for so long? I can’t stop my judgment from flying out of my mouth. “It also sounds like a bunch of bull crap to me.”
His head twists sharply to the left so he can glare at me.
“How long has it been?” I ask, already knowing the answer. “Three years or so? I mean, come on … six months is the longest anyone would need to get over that. It’s not like anyone died or anything.”
His jaw that was slowly falling open as I spoke, slaps shut. Then he says, “Are you kidding me?”
“No, why would I do that? Obviously you two weren’t meant to be together. Your breakup was a good thing. Seriously. You’ve been hosting this pity party for waaaay too long, Ian. Time to cowboy up and stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
He leans way back away from me. “You know what? You can just shut up right now. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“I can see that, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t shut up about it.” He stands, heading for the door.
“Running away when things get difficult?” I ask, challenging him.
“More like getting away from a damn harpy who doesn’t know when to mind her own business.”
When he’s almost to the exit, I sigh loudly so he’ll hear. “Good thing Ginny got rid of you when she did, I guess. No one wants a big cry baby for a husband anyway.”
He spins around and faces me. “Did you just call me a cry baby?”
I give him my very best innocent look and bat my eyelashes a few times for extra effect. “Yes, I did. What do you call a guy who has the good fortune of getting out of a big mistake before it’s an even bigger mistake and then makes everyone miserable about it for three years? A hero? I don’t think so. More like a whiney-baby.”
His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses. It’s possible he’s considering putting a hole through the wall with his fist.
I hold up my hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”
He puts his hands on his hips. “That’s not what that expression means,” he says, his teeth pressed together.
“Sure it is. I’m giving you the message that it’s time for you to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re getting all cranky after hearing my message, and I’m just saying … don’t be hatin’ on me because I’m just telling you the things people are saying all over town about you.”
He takes a step towards me, his anger falling away to something else. Worry maybe? Fear? Curiosity?
“Are you serious?” he asks. “Who’s saying that about me?”
I snort. “Please. Who’s not saying it would be an easier question to answer.” I actually have no idea if anyone is saying anything about Ian, but does that stop me? No. He’s so much cuter when he’s not feeling sorry for himself. Maybe he’s been acting like a butthead for three years because no one’s kicked him in the pants yet. He sure needs a kick in the pants, that much is obvious.
Surprisingly, he comes back and sits down next to me. “You need to tell me who’s been flapping their lips about me and Ginny.”
>
“No, I don’t.” I smile and point to my head. “Steel trap, remember?”
“Screw your steel trap.” He stares at me intensely.
I grin because I cannot help it. He’s positively adorable when he’s mad. “Do you have any idea how wrong that sounds?”
“How wrong what sounds?”
“That you want to screw my steel trap.”
He leans back, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as his body goes slack. “I didn’t say that.”
I shrug and check my nails again. “If that’s what you want to tell people. I’ll back you up.”
“You’ll back me up.” He says it like a statement. I can tell he’s looking at me, but I don’t return his gaze. The atmosphere has suddenly gone … warm.
“That’s what I said.” I cross my legs and play with the furry top of my awesome boot, still not looking at him.
“I think you would,” he says, sounding like he’s actually admiring me.
I look over at him to see if he’s messing with me. My heart does what can only be termed a pitter-patter. “You think I would, what?”
“Back me up. Have my back. If I needed you to, I mean.”
I picture Ian needing a helping hand and there’s just no question which side of the line I’d be on. He’s Andie’s brother now. “Hell yeah, I would. You’re practically family.” I shrug and go back to fiddling with my boot. “Family gets automatic, unquestioned back-up at any time. That’s my rule.”
He says nothing for a little while and then comes out with, “I like your rule.”
I look at him and wink. “I know you do.” I have no idea what that means. I just have this desire to flirt with him that apparently knows no bounds. I’m not even making sense anymore. This situation is so confusing. Floor and ceiling, feel free to change positions because at this point I’m not going to know the difference.
He laughs has he rolls his eyes. “Girl, you are something else.”
The mood in the room has gone from silly, to sad, to tense, to explosive and back to happy and relaxed, with almost no effort on my part. It’s like a circus but without clowns or animals or gymnasts or any of that other stuff. The only explanation is Ian. It’s all his fault. He sure is a moody butthead. Why that makes him even more attractive to me than he was before, I have no idea, but there’s no denying it does. I guess even though I’m nearing thirty and should know better, I still find bad boys enough of a challenge that I can’t walk away. And Ian is most definitely a bad boy.
I stare at him, taking in his lean, muscular form, his chiseled from stone good looks, his wind-burned cheeks, his gorgeous green eyes, and his stupid blue hat that does not match his complexion at all, knowing he would give me a serious run for my money if I were interested in that kind of thing with him. How this man is not yet married is some kind of miracle. The girls in Baker City have got to be stupid. Or maybe they don’t like hunters either.
The thought sparks an idea in my steel trap of a mind. Maybe if I ask him really nicely, he’ll stop shooting animals. Then he could find a new woman and be happy again. Andie’s brother-in-law should be happy. Then she’ll be happy and Mack will be happy and the whole damn world will be happy. I could leave for Florida knowing I’ve left the world here a better place. I sigh with bliss, thinking this must be what Mother Theresa felt like.
“What would it take to convince you to stop hunting animals?” I ask, my plan already in motion.
He stares at me for a long time before he finally answers. “A lot more than you can afford to give, believe me.”
I just smile at him, knowing my battle is almost half won already. This man has no idea what he’s in for.
Chapter Eleven
NURSE RATCHED PUTS HER HEAD in waiting room. “You can come to Andie’s room now if you want.”
I leap up out of my chair, leaving Ian in my dust.
“Is she pushing yet? Is the baby almost here?” I scoot past the evil woman without waiting for a response.
She doesn’t answer me, but I catch her rolling her eyes at my back when I look over my shoulder, so I know she heard me. Bitch.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to report her to the administration when this is all over, but for now I have to focus on Andie. Maybe they’ll let me cut the umbilical cord, if Mack’s too squeamish to do it.
I push open Andie’s door and burst through the opening, determined not to miss a single second of the event. Maeve is going to be so sad she wasn’t here for it. I can’t believe she left the hospital when the baby was almost here.
Andie’s in bed, sitting up, holding a bundle of blankets in her arms.
I stop short and stare at her and Mack. He’s leaning over her, looking into the blankets, smiling as goofy as I’ve ever seen him. Andie’s smiling too but she looks exhausted. Maeve is sitting quietly in the corner in an armchair. My brain starts short-circuiting.
“Did I miss something?” I ask, walking over slowly. I’m trying not to sound hurt. Why is Maeve here and I wasn’t?
“Nope. You’re here just in time.” Andie moves the edge of the blanket over to the side. “Candice, I want you to meet your goddaughter, Sarah Jayne MacKenzie.” She looks down at the pink coconut-looking head in the blankets. “Sarah, this is Candice.”
And just like that, I’m not quite as hurt anymore. Godmother? Note to self: Read Bible tomorrow but skip the part about Adam’s sons.
I’m close enough now that I can see Sarah’s little scrunched-up face. “Wow. She looks like she just did a couple rounds with Mohammed Ali.”
Mack chuckles, his eyes never leaving her face.
“She was pretty squished in there, I guess,” explains Andie. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
I decide lying is the best plan of action in this situation. “She is the most beautiful baby that ever came out of a vagina, that’s for sure.” I look up at my friend and try to force a full smile out past the remaining hurt I’m suffering over being left out. “You did really well, Mommy. How does it feel to know you brought a human being into the world?”
“It feels like a miracle.” She looks over at Mack and starts to cry. “I’m the luckiest girl in the entire world.”
Mack leans in and gives her a very sexy kiss. “You make me really happy, you know that Mrs. MacKenzie?”
“Yes, I do know that, Mr. MacKenzie.”
“Can I hold her?” I ask, a little nervous about the whole idea, but not letting it stop me. I have to get this baby imprinted on me asap so she knows I’m her second-in-line-momma. And before Kelly, Andie’s second-best friend, gets here. Sarah J is going to love me best, I’m going to make sure of that.
“Sure. Just watch her head. You have to support it.”
“I know, I know. Hand over the goods.” I reach out and take the baby gently from her mom. Sarah is so light it feels like I’m just holding blankets. I move the edges away to be sure she’s still in there.
The delicate golden fuzz on her face makes me kind of melt inside. “Well, hello, pookie poo, wookie woo, mookie moo.”
The door opens but I don’t bother looking up to see who it is.
“Do you know who I am?” I ask the baby, waiting for some sign of recognition that I’m here. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is making some sucking motions, but I keep on talking. Maybe hearing it subliminally would be better anyway. “I’m your number two momma and future BFF. Yeah, that’s right. You’re the luckiest girl in the world. I’m going to read to you, I’m going to do your hair, I’ll teach you all the things you need to know about men, and I’ll make sure you get into a good college. And when you want to run away from mommy and daddy, you’ll come to my house and we’ll do our nails together and talk about how unfair they are.”
There’s a sound next to me and I look up. Ian’s standing there, looking over my shoulder at the baby.
“She’s little,” he says.
“Six pounds even,” says Mack. “Eighteen inches long.”
I smile because
he sounds like he’s bragging about the length of his dick or something. Mack usually isn’t so animated.
“Wow. Ain’t nothin’ but a little bit,” says Ian. He pokes his finger into her cheek. “Whattya think, L’il Bit? You big enough for a nickname yet?”
I turn so he can’t touch her anymore. “Keep your dirty fingers off her face.”
“I’m pretty sure she hasn’t even had a bath yet. Her face is dirtier than my hands are.”
“Her name is Sarah Jayne, not her.”
Ian smiles. “That’s a real pretty name, Andie. Suits her perfectly.”
It warms my heart to see Andie’s response to Ian’s kindnesses. He really is a good guy underneath all that awfulness, I guess.
I walk over and give the baby to Mack. “I’m afraid I’m going to drop her,” I say as an excuse. Actually, I know I would never do that, but staring down into her pretty pink face and watching her little lips and that nose while Ian stands behind me and says all those nice things makes me sad for some reason. Today is the first day of my life that I’ve felt old. And alone. I’m really not prepared to deal with those kind of emotions.
“Well, I need to get going,” I say, trying to act all breezy casual about it. I think I need a good cry and I can’t do that in front of anyone.
“Go? Where are you going?” Andie seems worried.
“Oh, I have some shopping to do. Things to get done at the house. I’ll come back later or tomorrow morning.”
Andie looks at Mack. “Will you stay?”
He smiles and strokes her hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here until you’re ready to leave.”
They stare into each other’s eyes and Andie starts to cry again.
“Yeah, well, if anyone cares, I’ll be heading back to the ranch too,” says Ian, lifting his hand to say goodbye.
No one says anything.
“Call me if you need anything from the house,” he says.
Mack waves but says nothing, never breaking eye contact with his wife.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Maeve says to Ian. “Keep a dish warm for me and Angus. He’s out with the herd on the south field.”