MacKenzie Fire

Chapter Fifteen

 

 

 

 

 

AFTER ABANDONING THE COUCH FOR Mack’s bedroom and much needed sleep, I spend hours tossing and turning. Sometime around one in the morning, I take out Millie my new gun and practice loading bullets into the clip and taking them out. After an hour, I’m pretty much qualified for the FBI.

 

I try to fall asleep again at two a.m. and finally go unconscious sometime after three in the morning. Then some ridiculous rooster starts crowing at five and forces me to get up after only two hours. I’m pretty sure I didn’t get any REM sleep, either.

 

Mental note: buy earplugs in town today. Maybe I’ll have to go introduce Millie to Mister Rooster so we can come to an understanding. Say hello to my little friend. I’ll let him know that he can crow anytime after eight, but any time before that is just plain rude.

 

Ian’s door is shut, but I can’t tell if he’s inside or out in the snow doing chores. It seems like that’s all they do around here. I’m tempted to knock, and if he’s in there, ask him what his plan is for the day, but I don’t. A hot shower is calling my name, and since the coffee kind of sucks here, it’s all I have to wake me up from my exhausting two-hour nap. Besides, I don’t want him thinking the first thing I want to do when I get up is see his face, even if it is.

 

As the hot water starts to steam up around me, my thoughts clarify. My first order of business is visiting Andie and Sarah. Then I’m going to buy some earplugs and some hair products more suited to this snow stuff. Then I’m going to …

 

Huh.

 

I frown.

 

There’s nothing in my brain but a void. My thoughts stop there because I have no idea what else I’m going to do here. It’s not like this is a hot spot of metropolitan life. There are no art museums, malls, or amusement parks, even. My entire day’s plan is only going to take two hours. What am I supposed to do with the other twelve or so?

 

I shampoo my hair as I consider my options. I could probably follow Maeve around. Learn to can stuff. Maybe make some pickles or something. I could go look at some cows.

 

Yeah. That sounds like tons of fun.

 

Lie.

 

Or I could go find Ian and do whatever he’s doing.

 

I smile as I picture it happening. The look on his face — irritation probably — and his smart-ass comments, him insisting I leave him alone … yes, this is a great plan. Way better than making pickles.

 

I hurry through conditioning my hair so I can be dressed and ready to go by the time he’s up. Maybe I can even get him to take me into town for lunch. Then we’ll see if he’s really dating that Banana Hannah girl. We can go right into the diner together and see how she reacts. That way, I’ll know everything I need to know before our big party at Boog’s.

 

I have to make sure he doesn’t try to get out of that little soiree. I’m really looking forward to meeting all these people who should have been in the waiting room while Sarah was being born. There’s something going on here in this town, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it. I don’t like the idea of my best friend being isolated without any friends to hang out with. A girl can go crazy without time to gab and gossip.

 

Luckily I do hair, so I get to do it on the job all day long. Being a lawyer makes that almost impossible for Andie. She breaks laws when she gabs. How lame is that, I’d like to know. Why she ever decided to be a lawyer is beyond me. She’s super smart and good at it, but damn, attorneys are no fun. She and I almost broke up over it. I’m so glad she met Mack and changed back to her old self.

 

I’m almost done drying my hair when there’s a knock at the door. I don’t have any makeup on, but that doesn’t stop me. I crack it open and smile, expecting to see Ian there insisting I let him use the facilities. I’m slightly disappointed when I find it’s Maeve, but try not to let it show in my expression.

 

“Morning, sweetie. Ready for some breakfast?” She smiles, moving her whole head of hair up a little in the process.

 

I smell toast and it makes my stomach growl. “Sure. In about ten minutes, is that okay?”

 

“Sure thing. Everything’s out on the table, just serve yourself.” She turns to leave.

 

I open the door more fully and put my whole head out. “Is Ian still sleeping?”

 

She hesitates at the top of the stairs. “Oh, no, he’s long gone.”

 

I can feel my face fall. “Long gone? As in how long? How gone?”

 

“He’s up for chores at four. I suppose he might be back for breakfast around eight, though.”

 

“Eight?” What in the hell am I going to do for two hours? “Okay. See you downstairs.” I start to go back into the bathroom, but Maeve’s voice stops me.

 

“You want me to take you somewhere?”

 

I stick my face out again. “Oh, no, that’s okay. I’ll catch up with Ian later. I have things I can do.” Like watch my nail polish dry or something equally stimulating.

 

“I can call him, if you like. If you need him for anything.”

 

My face goes a little red. Did I sound that desperate to see him? God, I can’t let his mother know I want to get in his pants. Ack! “No, no, don’t bother. I’m fine, really, I am. I just need to finish with my hair and I’ll be down.”

 

The sound of a loud bang comes from down at the bottom of the stairs and a rush of cold air follows. It glides over my skin, making me want to draw back into the bathroom where it’s still steamy.

 

“Hey, Ma?!” Ian’s shouting loud enough to be heard from one corner of the house to the other. He must be standing in the foyer. “That city girl up yet?”

 

The smile takes over my face before I have time to school my features, and Maeve catches it. She smiles too as she shouts back down the stairs. “Yes, she’s all bright eyed and bushy-tailed, as a matter of fact!”

 

“Good! Tell her to get her buns down here. I got something to show her.”

 

“I guess you’re getting a tour of some sort,” she says to me in a low tone before leaving to go down the stairs.

 

“I’ll be done in ten minutes!” I yell.

 

“You’ve got one!” Ian says back. “I’m not waitin’!”

 

I slam the door and drop the hair dryer on the floor in my rush to make myself presentable. The plastic end of it goes flying off and hits the wall, but I ignore it. If I had a nickel for every time that happened in my life I’d no longer have to go to work on Tuesdays. My hair goes up into a knot with an elastic holding it in place and my makeup is limited to mascara and eyeliner.

 

Boom. Done. Who says I’m high-maintenance?

 

Wrapped in my short, silk robe, I sprint on tiptoes from the bathroom to my bedroom and throw on pink thong underwear, matching lacy bra, jeans from yesterday, and a college sweatshirt that has seen much better days. Since I spent so much time on the ground yesterday, I figure I’d better be prepared for more of the same today, especially when Ian’s going to be my tour guide.

 

I wonder what it is he wants to show me. I hope it’s him naked. I’m totally ready to melt some snow. I’ll show him to give me sneak-attack orgasmic foot rubs. He has no idea who he’s messing with.

 

My new boots slide on with a whisper and I’m ready to go. I don’t know how serious he was about that one minute, but I don’t want to chance missing out on whatever this is. I grab my purse and throw it over my shoulder as I run out of the room.

 

Dashing down the stairs, I stop at the bottom, realizing as I look at the coat hooks next to me that my leather bomber is out in the bed of the truck and covered in amniotic fluid.

 

The front door opens and Ian sticks his head inside the house. “Well, come on, I don’t have all day.”

 

“I don’t have a jacket. Andie got her goo all over mine yesterday.”

 

He pushes the door open and steps in far enough to grab a big camouflage jacket off a hook. “Wear this one.” Tossing it at me, he doesn’t even wait for me to respond. He’s out the door and gone, leaving behind some melting snow on the floor and a whole bunch of seriously cold air. My nipples turn into pebbles and not for the good reason. I hope they don’t break off when I get outside.

 

I hold the coat out in front of me and speak loud enough to be heard through the closed door. “This thing is fugly. Whose is it?”

 

“It’s mine,” he says from the porch. “Come on! You’re going to miss it!”

 

I throw my arm through one of the holes and grab the door, hurrying to catch up to him. The little high school girl in me is thrilled to be wearing Ian’s coat. It’s almost as good as a letterman’s jacket. Hello, Grease throwback! I could totally do Sandy, and Ian wouldn’t make a bad Danny now that I think about it.

 

“Whooo!” I yell, as the air is stolen from my lungs by the cold. Visions of Ian and me doing a musical together vanish from my brain. I’m suddenly stuck in place. I have never felt anything so awful in my entire life. My nostril hairs are now frozen thorns inside my nose.

 

“Get your jacket on, fool,” he says, halfway across the yard walking backwards. “It’s below zero out here.”

 

“Ho … leeee …. sheeee …. it! It is cold out here, mother fudger!” I jam my other arm into the jacket and gather it around me, wrapping it as tight as I can. Thankfully it’s way too big, so my hands are out of the cold and stuck up in the sleeves, and there’s material over my neck and down to my knees. Still, I’m shivering. I’m afraid my hair is still kind of wet. Is this how hypothermia starts? I hope not.

 

I reach the truck he’s standing next to and peek out from between the folds of cloth. “Where … are … we … going?” My teeth are chattering.

 

He reaches down and pushes my hands apart. I protest until I realize he’s looking for my zipper.

 

“We’re going to look at something I think you’ll like, if you can ever get your butt in the truck.”

 

“It’s not even six in the morning yet, Ian. And you gave me no notice at all.”

 

“High maintenance,” he says, shaking his head as he zips up my zipper. He reaches into an outside pocket of the jacket and pulls out a lump of black leather. “Put these on.”

 

I’ve never been so happy to see a butt-ugly pair of gloves in my life. I can already feel the warmth they’re going to bring to my aching fingers.

 

I drop one trying to get it on too fast, and we both bend over at the same time to get it. Our heads knock into each other like two coconuts, and I fall backwards trying to escape the pain.

 

“What in the sam hill …” Ian stands there holding his head, staring at me.

 

I lie on the ground, looking up at him as I hold my forehead. “Ow. Headache.”

 

“You have got to be the least coordinated person I have ever met,” he says, holding out a hand.

 

I roll over onto my side and get up on my hands and knees. “Go away, I don’t need your help.” When I finally stand, I spin around to stare him down.

 

He jumps with fright and then looks guilty, like I caught him at something. He stares at the ground, his face a little pinker than before.

 

My hands go to my hips and I use the opportunity to pull my pants up a little. It’s possible I just gave him a plumber-crack flash in my efforts to stand. Oops. Good thing I have my cute thong on and not my granny panties. “Listen, Ian … if you and I are going to get along, you’re going to have to stop insulting me.”

 

“Insulting you?”

 

“Yes. You’ve called me high maintenance and klutzy. It’s not nice to say that to girls. Didn’t your mother teach you to be nice?”

 

“I suppose she did.” He pushes his lips together and nods once.

 

“Good. So make your mother happy. Be a nice boy.” I pat him on the cheek a couple times, maybe harder than I should, but he needs a little wakeup call. “Now be a gentleman and get my door for me.”

 

He looks like he’s about to say something smart back at me, but instead, he moves to the side and opens the passenger door of the big black truck we’re standing next to. “Can I give you a hand?” he asks, holding out a gloved palm.

 

“Thank you,” I say, grinning. I’m so happy he’s behaving himself. Maybe he really does want to get along with me.

 

“You have a nice smile, you know that?” he asks. He’s staring at me. “You’ve got a dimple right there in your cheek.” His other hand reaches up and pokes me in the face. Firmly. Then he smiles.

 

I grit my teeth together to keep from saying something I’ll regret. He is totally baiting me right now, waiting for me to fight back, which is exactly why I’m not going to do that.

 

Today, the tables will be turning and not on me. Ian will be getting a taste of his own medicine if it’s the last thing I accomplish before I leave. I hope it doesn’t take me the whole vacation to do it, though. I’m really looking forward to seeing it happen.

 

 

 

 

 

Elle Casey's books