Chapter Nineteen
“WELL, PICK HER UP THEN, dammit,” said a woman’s voice. “What’s wrong with you, son, you know better than that!”
“Aw, she’s fine. She’s just being dramatic. What’s that thing in her hand?”
“Look at her dry lips, fool. She’s dehydrated and she’s hurt her ankle or her leg. Look at the bottom of her foot there. Tsk-tsk, that one without the shoe is bleeding.” The woman sounded very concerned and caring, unlike the male voice.
“Mack should be the one out here hauling her around. She came out here for him, not me.”
“We’ll hear all about that later, but right now I want her out of the sun and in the living room, pronto. And if you sass me again, you’re going to be on branding duty alone for the next three weeks.”
“For shit’s sake, Ma, you don’t have to get ugly about it! I didn’t say I wasn’t going to do it, I just said it should be Mack taking care of his problems, not me. I’m tired of taking care of his problems.”
The sound of a face getting slapped made me smile in my half-conscious state.
“Don’t you dare, Ian MacKenzie. You might think you’re a grown man, but I have absolutely no problem getting my spatula out and serving you up a heaping helping of bare butt flap jacks, you hear me?”
A loud sigh preceded a subdued, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Now do what I told you to do, and be nice to her. She’s going to think all the MacKenzies are a bunch of savage retards.”
“Ma!” said the man, trying to talk but laughing instead. “That’s not nice at all, is it? Calling your children savage retards… Jesus.”
“I call it like I see it. I’ll be waiting for you inside. Now get to it.”
The sound of gravel-crunching footsteps faded in the distance, leaving me alone with the savage retard, Ian MacKenzie.
“I see you smiling down there. You can stop playing possum with your little purple-haired friend and help me get your big butt up off the ground any day now.”
My eyes flew open. “Excuse me? Did you just insult my butt?”
He shrugged, zero expression on his face. “I call it like I see it and make no apologies.”
I wanted to get up now just so I could give him a heaping helping of whatever his mother had just promised him. “I don’t need your stupid help,” I said, struggling to stand. I slapped his proffered hand away. “Don’t touch me, you savage retard.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Demeaning people with handicaps by using their condition as an insult.” He backed away, giving me plenty of space. “Go ahead then, take care of yourself. I’ll just stand over here and shoot that rattler that’s behind you.”
I spun around, screaming, “What?!” I tried to back up at the same time as I turned, and the combination of movement I’m woefully not qualified to make while wearing one heel sent me once more to the ground. I crabwalk-dragged and scrambled my big butt across the road to put as much distance between me and the serpent as possible.
“Where is it?” I asked breathlessly, staring desperately first into the bushes and then up at him.
The bastard was laughing.
Realization dawned. “There wasn’t a rattlesnake there, was there?”
He shook his head while he laughed at me, tears coming to his eyes. “Damn, girl, you sure can scoot when you have to.”
I whacked him in the leg, making my hand sting from the slap against his leather pant covers. “Help me up, jerk. My ankle’s messed up and now my clothes are ruined too, thanks to you.” Not even crazy drycleaner magic was going to be able to save this suit. And I’d just bought it last month in my favorite store, too. They should put a slogan on the sign coming into town: Baker City, The Dustiest Place on Earth.
Ian bent down and grabbed me under the armpits. One smooth yank and I was on my feet in front of him. Damn, he was strong. His shoulders were about a mile wide.
“Put your arm over my shoulder,” he ordered, dipping it down a little and reaching his hand out.
“No.” I pushed his hand away.
He had been about to step forward with me next to him, but then he stopped. “Why not?” He turned to look at me. Up close I could finally get a good look at his face. He seemed so familiar. Must be because I’d accidentally married his brother.
“Are you and Gavin twins?” I asked, before I could put the brakes on between my brain and my mouth.
“Nope, not even close.” He ducked his shoulder again and forced it into my armpit. “Come on, I have to get you inside before my mom skins my hide.”
“Aren’t you a little old for the Aunt Jemima treatment?” I asked, deciding not to fight his help anymore. I really couldn’t walk without it. It wasn’t so much the twisted ankle as the possible sun stroke.
He chuckled. “You don’t know my mother, do you?”
“No, I don’t know any of you.” I limped along, appreciating his support but loathe to admit it out loud.
“If you don’t know any of us, then what are you doing out here asking for Gavin?”
I battled with myself, wondering if I should tell him the truth or go with my genealogy story. It made little sense that I’d be tracking just Gavin down for a family tree project, but the lie was easier to go with than reality. Even standing here on his family’s land within arm’s reach of my goal, real life was just too big and scary.
“I’m doing a project researching my family tree, and his name came up. I’m just following leads.” I told myself it wasn’t a complete lie, hoping to assuage the guilty feelings that were making my face burn. According to the records of the State of Nevada, I am officially part of the MacKenzie tree … sitting right next to Gavin on one of its branches, in fact. If I really was doing a project, all of this would make complete sense. Kind of. Except for the marrying-someone-and-not-remembering-it part.
“Huh. Sounds interesting,” said Ian, but not like he really meant it. “Did you go to Utah first?”
“Why would I do that?” I inhaled sharply when my bum foot accidentally dropped down and caught the edge of the road, twisting it back.
Ian slowed down to accommodate my pain and mumbled cussing. “I thought that’s where all the best genealogy records were kept.”
Since I’d been talking out of my butt this entire time, I had no idea if he was right about that or not, but I figured there was no harm in shining him on. “Yeah, well, I just did it all online. But you’re right about Utah. I might go there next.”
“So you’re just flying around all over the country following family tree leads?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Don’t you have a job?” We’d reached the porch and my ankle was throbbing at this point. I turned to face him where he was standing one step below me.
“Yes, I have a job. I’m an attorney.”
He snorted. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“Do you really want an answer to that question?” I asked, ready to let him have it. I’d reached the end of my patience with this idiot.
“Who’s this?” asked a male voice behind me.
I turned around and almost had a stroke over the glowing blue eyes that bore into me from under a straw-colored cowboy hat.
“Mack,” I said in a strangled whisper, memories rushing over in a giant tsunami to drown me in raw emotion.
“Andie,” he said, his face set in angry lines.