by Elle Casey
I hold the cap up next to his head with one hand and point to his cheek with the other. “You are a summer person, not a winter person. That means you should stick with warm colors.” I shake the hat for emphasis. “This is a cool color. It clashes with your complexion.” I put it back in his drawer and dig around to find another one. He has an impressive collection. I pull the best one out, slap it onto his head, and look in the mirror with him. “See?” I take the old one back out of the drawer and hold it up next to his head so he can see the difference. “Way better, right?”
He twists his mouth up and grabs the hat out of my hand. Taking the other one off and tossing it over his shoulder, he slaps the old one back on. “Nah. This one’s better.”
“Do you argue just for the sake of arguing?” My hands are on my hips.
“Do you always butt your nose into other people’s business without being invited?” He slams his drawer shut.
“I have a degree in fashion, for your information. And since you’re Andie’s brother-in-law, I have a moral obligation to keep you from walking out of this house looking like a half-wit.”
He stops at his doorway on the way out, looking down at me from under the brim of his hat, his glowing green eyes staring right at me for the first time. Normally he looks at me kind of sideways, and now I know why. Power like he has should be used sparingly, if for no other reason than for the sake of my blood pressure. I’m too young to have a stroke.
“I thought you cut hair,” he says.
I can’t help the small thrill that runs through me at the idea that he remembered what I do for a living. I would have sworn he didn’t know or care. “I do. And I give fashion advice, even when it’s pretty much a hopeless case and people don’t appreciate it. You should listen to me, you know. I know what I’m talking about.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. He might be smiling too, but it’s hard to tell since he’s already gone.
“Where are you off to?” I ask, rushing to the door in time to see his back disappearing down the stairs. I’m a little breathless, but it’s not from exercise. My, oh my, he can be really cute when he wants to be.
“Nowhere you’d like to be,” he says.
For some reason letting Ian get the last word is not acceptable to me. My first reaction with him is to argue every point. Why that is, I don’t know, but there’s no use denying it. I’m normally not the argumentative type, but something about his attitude makes me want to duke it out with him. Besides, how does he know where I’d like to be? Maybe I’d like to be exactly where he’s going.
I run into my room and pull on my super cute cowgirl boots. I totally splurged on these babies. They’re embroidered all over in several colors and the leather is a dark purple with a natural finish making it look a little mottled. They’re vintage cowgirl awesome, and I am totally ready to take this town by storm when I have these on.
“Wait up!” I yell as I run from my room. “I’m coming with you!” My feet clomp a lot louder than I’m used to as the heels of my boots bang against the floors. Normally I’m practically a ballerina the way I flit and float everywhere.
“No you’re not!” he yells back, slamming the front door on his way out.
I snag my short leather coat off the hook by the door as I run past, making it to the porch in time to see him climb up into his truck. He must have run across the yard or something. What a jerk.
“Wait!” I yell, holding out my hand like I’m hailing a taxi. I go down the porch steps at lightning speed and am ready to take off like the sprinter I used to be in high school.
Only problem is, I’m not exactly wearing my running shoes. I soon learn the hard way that awesome vintage cowgirl boots do not have a hell of a lot of traction. Or any at all, actually.
One second I’m pedaling in reverse getting nowhere while my arms are pinwheeling out at my sides, and the next I’m on my back, staring up at the grey sky. My head hurts something awful. I’m pretty sure I hit it on a boulder.
The engine to the truck goes on, rumbles and revs, and then a few seconds later it stops making sounds completely. I’m not sure if Ian’s still here or if he took off so fast he’s already halfway up the mountain. I’m afraid to lift my head and check. I could possibly be paralyzed.
Will anyone miss me inside the house in time to rescue me from death by freezing or maiming by frostbite? I’m not sure. Time to pull on my vast resources of personal power so I can save myself from dying or becoming toe-less way too young.
Inventory time. I wiggle my tootsies to see if I’m good from the waist down. Yep. Toes are moving. Ass is … wet. Again. Dammit. I twitch my fingers. Yep. Those work too. But damn, they’re cold. I’m not going to be nearly as adorable with all my fingertips gone. Tightening my hands into fists seems like a very smart idea.
I’m working on moving my shoulders up and down when Ian’s face is suddenly hovering over me. “You’re getting pretty good at that falling on your ass thing.” He holds out a hand.
I punch it away since my hands don’t want to open anymore. Sitting up, my concerns for paralysis are quickly replaced by annoyance. “I told you … I’ve been practicing … on purpose.”
“Seems like there are easier ways to get on your back than slipping on the ice.”
Is he suggesting I turn into a slut? He is totally going to pay for that. I roll over and get up on my knees and then my feet. My boots slip around immediately, causing me to reach out and grab Ian’s jacket at the shoulder to steady myself.
“Are you calling me a ho?” I ask. Turning slightly to get my feet under me more firmly is a mistake. My feet slip out completely and I have to grip Ian with both hands to keep from going down again.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t expecting my extra weight on his shoulders, so he’s knocked off balance. His feet shuffle around on the ice and snow for purchase, but it’s hopeless.
He lands on his back, and I land on top of him, my forehead banging into his chin.
“Ow, mother fudger!” I moan. “Holy crap you have a hard chin.” Reaching up to rub my head, my finger goes into one of his nostrils by mistake.
“Jesus, get your finger out of my nose, would ya?” He lies there lifeless with his eyes closed, as I pull my hand back and rest it on the snow next to his head.
“Ow, God, I hurt my back,” he grunts out. His arms then fall to his sides.
My eyes widen in alarm. “Ian? Ian are you okay?”
He doesn’t answer.
I tap his cheek, first gently and then harder. “Ian! Are you okay?!” I’m yelling in his face because I’m in a panic. I’m just about ready to call out the troops when one of his eyes opens.
“Are you going to lay on me all day or what?”
My face flames red. “Ha. You wish.” I move around, trying to get off him, but it’s not as easy as it sounds. He’s big, and the ground all around him is too slick for me to get a grip on, even with my hands.
“If you don’t quit moving around like that, we’re both going to be sorry. Come on, get off.”
I speak through clenched teeth. “Shut up, idiot, I’m trying to get off.”
He chuckles. “I can tell.”
I suddenly realize the double meaning of our words, and embarrassment makes my cheeks go hot red. Without thinking, I grab a handful of snow and slap it right onto his face. That’ll cool him off, the butthead.
“Hey!” he sputters, his hands coming off the ground to swipe at his face. He blinks several times hard and then scowls at me. “What was that for?” He’s half angry and half laughing. I think he’s as confused as I am.
“That’s for perving out on me when I’m just trying to get up.” I push on his chest and manage to roll off him and onto my back again. I’m once more staring up at the Oregon sky. I’m really beginning to hate that thing. Stupid top-left state.
And then my mouth is full of snow.
I’m busy getting over my shock and spitting out the cold, melting mass as Ian whoops it up, ly
ing partly on his side now with his upper body twisted towards me.
“Ha-ha! How’s that taste, City?!” He’s smiling from ear to ear and his eyes are aglow.
I throw my arms out to my sides, grab two handfuls of snow, and twist onto my side. “You tell me, Country!” I shove both barrels right up his nose.
He starts sneezing, and I take the opportunity his incapacitation provides to get away. I roll and roll and roll. It’s my only chance, since my feet are useless in this snow with these boots on.
Once I’m a few feet away, I struggle up onto my knees and start crawling. My knees are sliding like crazy on the ice, so I only get about two inches for every six strokes of my legs. I kick my speed up a notch to put more distance between us. Probably my feet are just a purple blur right now to any onlookers, I’m going so fast and furious.
I make it almost to the porch before Ian grabs my ankle. Fear and maybe a little bit of excitement coming from the thrill of the chase surges into me, like I’m the victim in a horror movie being pursued by a hot killer. I can’t help but shriek.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls.
“Aaaack! Get off!” I try to kick him, but all that does is offer up both feet for capture. My body slides easily across the icy surface of the yard. Before I know it, he has me trapped under him, with the two of us chest to chest.
He immediately begins grabbing handfuls of snow and slapping them down onto my face, my head, my neck … anywhere there’s an exposed surface.
“Take that, City! Eat that snow! That’s right, girl! Yum, yum! Tasty, tasty Oregon snow! Hope there ain’t any of the yellow stuff in there!”
A door bangs open and a holler comes from somewhere on the porch. “Ian Michael Angus MacKenzie, what on earth are you doing?!”
Ian’s hand freezes in mid snow-shoving.
I spit out the mouth of snow I have and blink through the water that’s melted onto my lids. Ian’s expression is classic. Busted. Tilting my head back I can see Maeve standing at the top of the stairs. I smile past my frozen lips.
“Uhhh, hey, Ma,” he says nervously. “What’re you doing out here?”
She puts her hands on her hips, her open sleeveless down jacket flying up on both sides like moth wings. “Apparently I’m bearing witness to an assault and battery on our house guest by a savage moron whose rear end is about to become reacquainted with the business end of my kitchen spatula!”
I start giggling and singing at the same time. “You’re in trouble, you’re in trouble …”
He grabs one more handful of snow and stuffs it in my face. “It was worth it,” he whispers in my ear before standing up. He gets onto his feet with a grace I didn’t think possible with all this slippery stuff around. He heads towards his truck while he answers.
“I’m outta here, Ma. Gotta get some feed. You can beat my ass later.”
“You bet your sweet bippy I will, too. Savage beast of a boy.” She doesn’t sound all that mad anymore. More like she’s just made a promise she intends to keep.
I’m afraid to attempt getting up so I stay on my back, using the pause in the drama to clear my face of all the snow and water. My hands are pretty much frozen solid at this point.
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” Maeve mutters as she walks gingerly down the stairs. “I cannot believe what I just witnessed. He’s gone completely off the range. He used to be such a gentle soul.”
I burst out laughing at that load of poo, and when she looks at me, confused, with her bun all lopsided and her superwoman vest cape flying out behind her, I can’t help it; the hysteria takes over. I’m ready to pee my pants by the time Andie comes out to see what’s going on.
“What’s she doing on the ground?” she asks.
Maeve stands there with her hand on her chest, shaking her head slowly at me. “I’m not exactly sure. Call Boog for me on the radio so we can get her up.”
“No, no, I’m good,” I say, embarrassed about the idea of some big hairy beast of a man coming to my rescue. I’ve only seen him once, but that was enough. He reminds me of a deranged wookie.
I crawl over to the stairs and use the railing to get up. Once under the protection of the porch roof and the salted ground, I can stand. I take a deep breath in and out, happy to be alive and invigorated beyond reason. It’s like I just ran a 5k or something.
“What are you wearing?” asks Andie, staring down at my feet.
I tilt one up so she can admire the embroidery. It’s only a little stained from the water. “Vintage cowgirl awesome. You like?”
She smiles. “Yes, I like. But the bottoms are way too slick for ice and snow. Come on inside. I’ve got some other boots you can use while you’re here.”
“But I like these,” I whine as I follow her in. Not only are they gorgeous, but they make Ian fall and roll all over the snow with me. These babies were worth every stinkin’ penny.
“I don’t want you to die while you’re here, so wear these.” Andie reaches into a closet and pulls out the butt-ugliest boots I have ever seen in my entire life. It would be bad enough that they look like they’re made for someone with a serious case of cankles, but they’re camouflage too. The word heinous doesn’t even cover their description.
“You cannot be serious.” I gesture towards them and then my body. “What is it about me that says dress me like a Duck Dynasty chick?”
Her gaze slowly moves over my body, starting at my soggy wet knees, sliding over my water-stained leather jacket, and ending up at my hair. She grimaces. “Um … yeah. May want to take a look in the mirror, sweetie pie.”
My eyes widen and I dash into the hallway bathroom.
The image that stands before me is my worst nightmare come true. “Oh … my … GOD!” I cannot believe what I’m looking at. This cannot be real. Is this a trick mirror from a funhouse?
My mascara has somehow made its way down to my upper lip. It’s like I’m sporting a Hitler mustache or mini-snatch on my face or something. My hair is matted to my head and the highlights that before looked like perfect sun-kissed glory now look like someone painted my head with mud. “Oh my Tiny baby Jesus.” I lean in for a closer look and then quickly lean waaaay back. No one should have to see a close-up of this disaster.
Andie steps into the doorway so I can see her reflection in the mirror. “Welcome to the country, city girl.”
I jut my chin out and swipe the mascara off my cheeks with a tissue from the box on the counter. For some reason I find it really annoying that my best friend has melded into this life so well and I’m having a hard time even looking human after just five steps in the snow. “I can hang. I’m adaptable.” I hate that she’s done so well here and I literally can’t even stand on my own two feet once I walk out the door. I always thought I was tougher than this.
She pats me on the shoulder. “Sure you are, sweetie. Sure you are. I’m going to go make you a hot cup of tea.”
She disappears, leaving me to stare at my sorry self in the mirror. I move my mouth this way and that, making sure to get all the mascara and other makeup off my face with the washcloth I find under the sink.
My mind wanders as I clean myself up. Am I deficient or can I pull this together? I frown at the very idea of being incapable. Of course I can. I can totally do this country thing and do it with style. Other people do it and they can’t be half as awesome as I am. I just need to figure out a few things first. Like how to walk on ice and snow without landing on my ass. And how to deal with Ian and my growing hormonal problem where he’s concerned.
I’d say he’s like an older brother with the way he makes me want to harass and tease him, but no girl should ever feel the way I do about Ian towards a brother. Ick. No, Ian is way too cute and way too sexy for him to be anyone’s older brother.
The question is, what do I want to do with all these feelings? Hmmm … a little sexy time while I’m out in the middle of nowhere might not be too awful… Could I do that with Ian? Do I want to do that with Ian? I’m
thinking maybe I do. Just the idea makes my blood pump faster and my neck gets all blotchy.
I definitely need to learn how to walk properly out here. That way, next time he tries to drive off, I can keep up with him and make him take me along.
I smile at the plan that’s forming in my mind, without questioning my motives for a second. I’m just here to have some fun, and there’s no reason in the world that I shouldn’t fill my time with some goofing around while I wait for that sweet little baby to be born. I can hang on the ranch. I can be a cowgirl. Ian doesn’t think I can, but I’ll show him. He has no idea what he’s in for. City girl, my butt.
I smile at my reflection and wink. This trip is going to be so much more entertaining than I imagined it could be.
Chapter Four
A STEAMING MUG OF TEA is doing a good job of thawing my body, inside and out. I cup the sides of it to bring my fingers back to life. Andie sits across from me, drinking some herbal concoction that’s supposed to relax her uterus or something. I’m not exactly sure I want to see a relaxed uterus anywhere around me, but I don’t say anything to Andie. I’ve seen pregnant girls go nuts before and it ain’t pretty. And besides, if you can’t relax your uterus around your best friend, who can you do it with? I sigh, praying I won’t see anything weird. I don’t have the strongest stomach in the world.
“So what’s Ian’s deal?” I ask, totally cool-like. Andie will never suspect my motives are to find his weak spots. Ian MacKenzie? Oh, yeah. Challenge accepted. You are so going down, mister.
“What do you mean?” She takes a sip of her drink.
“You know … why’s he so cranky all the time? What’s he do here? Is he seeing anyone?”
“Do you want me to answer the last question first?” Andie asks, barely holding back a smile.
