He sat there unmoving, just blinking rapidly several times.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, hopping onto my good foot to regain my balance. I reached out and patted his head and ear gingerly. “That must have hurt.” My own hand was tingling from the contact.
“Oh, that’s all right,” he said, ignoring my fluttering around his head while he cut away a big bite of pie from his slice. “You don’t hit very hard, even for a girl.” He continued to eat his dessert, ignoring the snickers around the table. “ ‘Course, you did just slap the man who was your only ride back into town.”
“I thought you were staying,” said Angus. “We need your help, Boog, you know that.” He sounded stressed. It was really awful compared to the happy-go-lucky Angus who’d been so kind throughout dinner.
“I know that, but she left her little three-banger out in a pothole back down the road, and I know she can’t ride a horse, so what do you want me to do?”
“I can bring her back,” said Mack, sighing heavily.
“No, son, you know we can’t spare you right now.” Angus was angry now.
“It’s only an hour.” Mack pushed his plate away.
I felt terrible. Bringing me back to town was obviously a huge problem. “Never mind,” I said, hurriedly. “I’ll figure something else out. How about a taxi? I can take a taxi.”
Maeve gave me a smile of pity. “I’m afraid our town’s taxi service leaves something to be desired. But I’ll try and give them a call if you like.”
I nodded. “That would be great. I’m sorry to put you out over this.” I stared down at my pie. Its sugar-glossed crust and warm gooey brown apples had lost a little of their appeal. I wasn’t sure my stomach could handle all that happiness.
“It’s no trouble at all, I promise,” assured Maeve. “How about you eat that pie, and I’ll go make the call?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. For some reason I felt like crying. These people were being so nice to me. I wondered what they’d do if I told them the truth. Probably kick me out the front door and tell me to walk back, rattlesnakes be damned.
“I made the crust myself using real butter. You let me know if you like it.” Maeve winked and left the table.
I dared a glimpse at Mack. He was steadily eating away at his dessert, his eyes glued to the task. No way was he going to reveal what he was thinking, that was obvious. It was a miracle I met him at the blackjack tables that night. He should have been at the poker tables; he was probably really good at that game with his ability to hide what he was thinking. I know I was completely in the dark about what was going on in his head, and I’d been studying him surreptitiously all night.
“What’s the important phone call all about?” asked Ian. “Lawyer stuff?”
I looked up sharply at him. He was smiling, clearly thinking he’d caught me in a lie. Little shit.
“Yes. Lawyer stuff.”
“You’re a lawyer?” asked Angus. “What kinda lawyer?”
“I’m a litigator.”
“She likes to argue. Why doesn’t that surprise me?” asked Ian.
“Shut up, Ian,” said Mack.
“Why don’t you make me, Mack?” Ian dropped his fork loudly on his plate and threw his napkin down next to it.
Mack followed suit and stood, his chair scraping the floor behind him. “Come on, then. It’s been a while since I’ve beat your behind. Looks like you’re long past due.”
“Boys, sit down,” said Angus, sighing and shaking his head. He seemed relatively unconcerned about the idea of his two grown sons assaulting each other. “They’re always full of piss and vinegar during B and C.”
“B and C?” I asked.
The two brothers smiled devilishly, first at their father and then me, twin gods - so alike and yet so different - arresting my heart for a full two seconds. Adorable? MacKenzie be thy name.
“B and C’s just a little nickname we have for branding and castration,” said Ian.
My stomach turned over, all visions of the MacKenzie gorgeousness fading to be replaced by the idea of burning skin and sliced body parts. “You actually do that?”
“Yes, we actually do that,” Angus said, smiling patiently, “just like ranchers all over the world.” He stood. “Come on, Boog. I’ve got something to show you. You too, Ian. I’m putting you on the tails.”
“I prefer the heads,” said Ian, his good humor gone. He walked out of the room with his father and Boog behind him.