by Elle Casey
The picture in front of me makes me want to cry. Pasta. Candlelight. The most gorgeous hunk of man I’d ever want to see. And a stupid blue baseball hat perched on his head, making his hair curl around the edges of it. He’s a working man, someone who uses his hands and body to do things around a ranch with horses and cows and stuff. I’d give just about anything to see him naked once.
He sees me looking at his head and quickly reaches up to take his hat off. He stuffs the brim in his back pocket and ruffles up his hair, trying to smooth away the pressed-in spots. “Sorry about that. No hats at the table. House rules.”
I can’t help but smile. He can be so charming and adorable when he wants to be. Or when he’s not trying to be, is more like it. It’s his natural state. The one he fakes is the jerky Ian. It boggles my mind that he would spend so much energy doing that when he could be so amazing with no effort. It makes me wonder if Ginny knew the real Ian or the fake one.
I take the seat he’s holding out for me. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He sits down too and picks up his fork, dropping a napkin into his lap a second before he takes a big helping of noodles and spins it into a nest shape.
I stare at him, waiting to see if he’s actually going to eat it.
The forkful is halfway to his mouth when he freezes. “What?”
I shake my head and take my fork. “Oh, nothing. Sorry. I was spacing out there for a second.” Watching out of the corner of my eye, I see him take a bite.
The noodles slowly spin up onto my fork, but I’m still waiting for his reaction before I try any.
“Mmmm …” He nods, his eyes moving around the room. “Mmmm … ummm-hmmm … mmmm.” He swallows.
“Well? Is it any good?”
“Delicious.” He takes a long gulp of beer and smiles. “You can cook for me anytime.”
My entire body catches fire. I drop my fork, lean over, grab him by the sides of his head, and kiss him right on the lips. Just one kiss. Real quick. I couldn’t help myself. I quickly go back to my fork and spaghetti.
“What was that for?” he asks, bewildered.
“For complimenting the cook.” I grin and stab my fork into the pasta.
He laughs and takes another sip of beer. “Can’t wait to taste your pie.”
My hand freezes.
My fork drops out of my hand and clatters onto the plate.
My ears are positively on fire.
I look up at him and watch as he goes from smiling, to panicked, to embarrassed.
“Oh, shit,” he says in a low voice. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
I’m laughing. I can’t help it. It’s too crazy stupid not to laugh at it.
“Shut up,” he says, still smiling awkwardly.
“You can’t wait …” I point at him, laughing too hard to finish.
“Yeah, I heard myself.” He’s nodding slowly, like he’ll take the punishment he deserves.
“You can’t wait…” I’m laughing harder, still pointing.
“Yeah, yeah. Ha ha, very funny.”
“To taste my pie …” My stomach hurts so much right now. I have to hold onto the edge of the table to support myself.
He pushes on my knee under the table with his hand. “Get over yourself, you know what I meant.”
The feel of his hand on my leg sobers me up pretty quickly, but not enough to let his gaffe slide completely. I pick up my fork and get some pasta on there before I give him my response.
“Well, Ian, I am also looking forward to the day that you taste my pie. I’m pretty sure you’re going to love it.”
Chapter Fourteen
AFTER I EAT HALF MY noodles, I have to stop. I’m too nervous to finish it all, even though it doesn’t exactly suck. I’m no Top Chef of course, but at least I pulled that one off without too much of a hitch.
I’m pretty sure Ian suspects nothing. Google is my best friend today and Andie my second best. Or maybe Sarah should be my best friend, now that I’m her number two mommy. That would make Google second and Andie number three. No, wait. That doesn’t feel right. When has Andie ever been number three?
“Want to watch some TV?” Ian asks as he puts the last dish in the dishwasher. The sound of his voice pulls me off the track my brain was running on. I have to shake my head a little to get it back into reality. My last thought on the subject is that reordering priorities at my age is … difficult.
“Uhhh… TV? Sure. What’s on?” I’m glad he’s suggested something to kill time. It’s only seven o’clock and way too early for me to go to bed, even with the time difference jet lag I have going on.
“Castle. My favorite. I’ve got it on the DVR.”
“Really? I didn’t figure you for a Castle guy.”
He walks down the hall into the main living room with me right behind. “Oh yeah. Me and Castle go way back.”
We settle onto a couch, him on one end and me on the other, an entire cushion’s distance between us. There’s a knitted blanket over the back that I gather up to put on top of me since the room is kind of chilly.
“You cold? Want a fire?” He glances over at the fireplace on the far wall.
“That thing actually works?” I snuggle under the colorful throw blanket and peek out over the edge at him. My feet curl up under me, hoping my butt will thaw them out.
“Yeah.” He laughs. “Why wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t know.” My garlic breath is rank and it’s billowing up around my nose, making it hard to breathe. I have to pull my face away from the blanket to get some fresh oxygen so I can finish my thought. “All the ones I’ve seen back home are just ornamental.”
He walks over to the mantel and squats down, busying himself with stacking things inside the gaping, ash-covered hole in the wall.
“This one works just fine. It’s not good for much more than this room, but that’s alright. We have central heating too.”
Once the flames have started, Ian leaves the room. He’s back in less than a minute with another glass of wine and a beer. He sets them on the coffee table in front of us before picking up the remote and sitting back down on the couch. This time, he’s a little closer to the center than he was before. I wonder if it’s on purpose. It makes me happy to think that it might be.
The show starts. I can’t help but glance over at Ian from time to time to see his facial expressions. He is so damn handsome. It’s too distracting for me to pay any attention to the actual story line.
“What do you like about this show so much?” I ask, wanting to know more about what makes Ian tick.
He shrugs, still staring at the screen. “I don’t know. I guess I like that he’s living in the city, working on his own stuff, keeping life interesting by doing different things, living a little dangerously with a sexy, take-no-crap woman by his side. And I like his sense of humor. Nathan Fillion’s a great actor.”
I look at the guy he’s talking about, the character Richard Castle, currently giving his cop partner a hard time. Man, is he cute. He could give me a hard time any day of the week and twice on Sunday. “He’s hot, I know that.”
“Hotter than me?” Ian tips his head in my direction and wiggles his eyebrows at me.
I kick him lightly in the hip. “Maybe if you’d take that stupid hat off he might not be.”
Ian takes his ball cap by the brim, lifts it off his head, and flings it across the room towards the fireplace. It hits the mantel and falls to the ground, landing on a pile of loosely stacked firewood.
“What are you doing?” I ask, laughing at the same time. I can’t believe he just did that. It’s like he actually cares what I think about his looks. That can’t be right. He specifically put that hat on today because I told him it was awful.
“Gonna burn that sucker once and for all, get you off my back about it.”
I kick him again, but this time he’s ready for me. His eyes sparkle as he catches my foot and drags it over into his lap.
Suddenly, the mood shifts. W
e both turn back towards the TV, acting like this isn’t what it feels like. My heart is going a million miles an hour. Am I in high school or what? Because that’s what this feels like … one of those first kiss, do you like me check yes or no, will-he-try-to-get-to-first-base kind of things.
“Damn, girl, your feet are colder than ice.” He rubs them briskly with his giant hands.
It makes me wonder what it would feel like to have them on other parts of my body. Rawr.
I play it off like it’s nothing. “Well it’s practically the arctic circle up here in Baker City. What do you expect? I’m a Florida girl not a polar bear.”
“You’ve never lived anywhere north of there?” His attention breaks away from the television as he continues rubbing my foot. It’s not doing much for my toes, but it sure is heating up other parts of my body.
Easy, Candice. Breathe in, breathe out. You can do this.
“Nope. Never.” When his face goes blank, I add, “Not that I wouldn’t, I just never have.”
He nods and goes back to staring at the TV.
Why did I just say that? It sounded like I was hinting he should ask me to move out here or something. What is my problem? Since when am I such a doofus around a good-looking guy? Jesus, I’m a mess. No wonder Andie married his brother after knowing him for an hour. These MacKenzie guys are dangerous with their sexy man-voodoo.
I reach over and grab my glass of wine, stretching my other foot out in the process.
Ian takes that one and pulls it into his lap too.
Trying to hold on to my last shred of cool, I take a small sip of my drink. But when his thumb presses into the middle of my foot and slides up and then back, and I feel a tingling right up there in my lady-parts, I gulp the rest of the glass down in two swallows.
He looks over at me and smiles. “You have a wine mustache.”
So much for cool, I guess.
I wipe it off with the back of my hand, trying to keep the burp of air I swallowed as delicate as possible when it escapes me.
“What’s the matter?” he asks, rubbing deep into the sole of my foot.
Sweat droplets are popping out on the top of my lip and between my breasts. The special spot between my legs is getting all twitchy. Antsy. Like it needs him there instead of at my feet. I wonder how big he is under those jeans of his.
Holy shit. Maybe it’s the wine or the fireplace or something, but I’m almost to the point where I’m going to need to change my panties. I look all around the room, wondering if I’ve been drugged.
Nope. The TV is still there showing images of Richard Castle, the pictures on the walls aren’t talking to me — not yet anyway — and the chairs aren’t dancing with the side tables. But even without any pharmaceutical help, if he keeps this up, something very inappropriate is going to happen on this couch and nobody’s even close to touching my VJ. How is that even possible?
What the …?
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, suddenly suspicious as I catch his sly expression.
A slow smile begins to spread across his face. “What? Me?” He looks down into his lap. “Just rubbing your feet.” He looks at me again and that smile is still there. Then he lifts an eyebrow. “Feel good?”
He could not possibly look sexier or more devious than he does right now.
I try to pull my feet back, but he grabs me by the ankles and hangs on. “They’re still cold. Let me rub them up a little for ya. Get you niiiice and warm.”
He’s not scaring me, but I don’t like this feeling of not being able to control my libido when he’s so close. “Stop. Stop it.” I sit up and push his hands away from my feet, slapping at him a little when that doesn’t work.
He uses his elbow to fend me off, still holding me and keeping me prisoner.
Then the front door opens and we hear voices. “Just chill out,” he whispers, winking at me, and then he looks up as his parents reach the entrance to the living room and stop to stare at us. “Oh hey, Ma. Dad. Pizza’s on the way.”
“Smells like you already had some,” Angus says, lifting his nose towards the kitchen.
“Hi there,” I say, twisting around to see them better, grateful for the interruption. My blood pressure is quickly going back to non-dangerous levels. “We made spaghetti but there wasn’t much of it left. Ian called in some pizzas for you.”
“Okay, sweetie. Thank you.” Maeve takes her husband by the arm and leads him down the hall like she’s in a hurry. Angus is looking at us over his shoulder. He’s not quite in the kitchen before the sound of his voice floats back into the room.
“I thought he hated feet.”
“Shhhh. Just sit down and I’ll make you some soup.”
The door dividing the kitchen off from the hallway, that has stayed open since I got here, closes, leaving Ian and me alone again.
I narrow my eyes at him. “If you hate feet, what are you doing rubbing mine?”
He goes back to looking at the television, but I can tell he isn’t seeing anything on the screen. He’s smiling too damn much.
“I guess I think yours are too cute to let freeze.”
I catch him off guard with my sudden ninja moves by yanking my feet away in a blur of speed. Tucking them under me and wrapping the blanket around and under them, I scowl at him. A certain Google search I’ve performed in the past is coming to mind, and I slowly realize what this is all about. I should have known better than to think he was just being nice to my poor little old cold feet.
“Or maybe you’ve read too many articles about reflexology and you think you can trick me into an orgasmic foot rub.”
His head jerks sideways to look at me. He laughs a little and then stops. “You know about that?”
I snort and roll my eyes. “Please. I’m practically an Internet M.D. Nice try.” I’m still sweating from the almost-orgasm he just gave me with a stupid foot rub. Damn that Ian Mackenzie! He’s so going to pay for that one.
While I’m mad that he tried to manipulate me like that, I have to admire his creativity and generally slyness. I’ve never met a guy more like me in my life than Ian MacKenzie. This could be dangerous.
He chuckles low in his throat. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Oh, hell yes, I can,” I say softly. I want to kick him, this time really hard, but I’m afraid he’ll try to capture my foot again and I’ll let him.
We watch the rest of the show in silence, but my brain is a beehive of activity. What does it mean that he tried an orgasmic sneak attack on me? Was it the ultimate revenge for the ankle grazing he got at the shooting range or an actual desire to get me all hot and bothered?
Oh, this man has got to be the most maddening human being I’ve ever dealt with. I can’t tell if he’s really the awesome guy he’s acting like or if this whole act is just a diabolical plan to get me back for the non-shooting incident.
I’m going to have to be on my guard for the next few days until I can figure this out. Thank goodness I took two weeks off work. That should be enough time to determine his motives, have a little fun, and then end things on a high note, all while soaking up some of that BFF and Sarah-baby love.
My confidence restored now that I have a plan of action, I smile inside, thinking about how awesome Baker City is turning out to be. Ian MacKenzie is so going down and he’s not even going to see it coming until it’s too late.
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.
