by Elle Casey
I shrug her off. “Nope. I’m not waiting. I have to get my hair brushed out and my face fixed before Ian gets here. I can’t do that hooked up to this contraption.”
The nurse walks over and tries to get in my way. “You need to wait.”
I pause and glare at her. “You so much as touch me, and you will be one sorry mofo.” I want to tell her that I wrestle with mountain lions and win, but I keep it to myself. It probably won’t help to convince anyone I’m ready to be discharged.
The nurse stops trying to touch my arm. “Are you threatening me?” she ask. “Because I can call for security.”
“Oh, it’s not a threat, I’m making you a promise. Touch me and you will feel the pain, guaranteed.” I stop messing with the tape and stare her down. “You can’t keep me here and you can’t force treatment on me. I know my rights. So either you help me get out of this, or you get the hell out of my room. That’s your choice, take it or leave it.”
See, what’s happening here, I think, is that I fought off a mountain lion and lived to tell about it. I am badassery personified. On top of that, everyone thinks the stuff that went down was Ian’s fault, which is totally not fair. I mean, maybe it was kind of his fault, but not in a bad way.
The things that happened to me today were awesome in an I-faced-death-and-kicked-its-ass kind of way, and I have Ian to thank for that, not to mention the bond with Candy. I feel like I need to tell him right now how grateful I am before anyone else gets near him and fills his head with nonsense that makes him feel bad. Today I was the best version of myself - strong, brave, resourceful. I never would have met that me without Ian there to bring her out.
“I’m going to call for security,” the nurse says, leaving us in the room.
“Go ahead!” I yell after her. “Tattletale!”
“Candice, I’m really worried about you,” Andie says, coming around the bed. “Seriously, would you please just calm down and leave that alone?”
“Hand me some paper towels,” I say, ignoring her. I have all the tape off and just the needle to get out. I’m afraid this sucker is going to bleed. The needle looks really thick.
I lean down and look at it closer. What is that, a frigging garden hose they put in my arm? Probably that rude nurse picked the biggest one they have because she’s jealous of my hair. Wench.
“Here.” Andie hands me a wad of towels from the bathroom and one gauze pad she found somewhere and pulled out of its wrapping.
I push the whole pile of it against my arm, using my stomach to press on it as I slide the needle out with my free hand. And damn, does it burn like … ooooh … Fire! My arm is on fire! Gah!
I drop the needle on the floor and do a little jig to try and ease the pain. Andie waits patiently as I do the cha-cha, the one-woman abbreviated tango, and a short waltz. It does wonders for the pain.
As I hold my arm up and put direct pressure against the garden hose hole with my opposite hand, I smile at Andie. And I keep on grinning, right through the fire burning up my arm and the nausea that threatens to overtake me. I swallow, fighting back against the bile that keeps trying to come up. “See? No big deal.”
“You are insane,” she says, almost smiling. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing.” I shrug as I lean against the side of the bed, totally casual and in control — or so I want her to think because I don’t want her trying to force me to stay here without Ian. “I’m just done with being here, and I don’t like it when people don’t listen to me.”
“Sweetie … you were attacked by a cougar. You have stitches in your arm and a big lump on your head.” She looks at the bandage on my bicep. “You need to be careful or you could get an infection. Those cat nails are very dirty.”
“So? I’ll take antibiotics.”
Andie looks up at the bag. “That’s what you were doing before you pulled that thing out.”
I look up at the bag and then at the needle that’s dripping liquid on the floor near my foot. “Oh.” My arm burns even more just seeing all that germ killer going to waste.
Andie sighs. “I’m sure we can get you some pills. I just want you to stop and take a breath and tell me what’s going on.” She shakes her head. “Ever since you met Ian, it seems like you’ve gone off the rails.”
We both stop speaking for a while. The silence stretches to the point that it’s becoming awkward. I have to say something.
“Ian has nothing to do with it.”
She stares me down until I cave.
“Okay, maybe indirectly he has something to do with it. Very indirectly.”
“Tell me.” She sits on the edge of the bed next to me.
It takes me a while to explain to her what’s going through my mind and my heart. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, the way I feel like killing her brother-in-law one second and humping his leg the next. How do I put that into words that don’t make me sound nuts?
“I don’t know. He just … he gets me all riled up. And he makes me laugh. He challenges me. I do things with him that I’ve never done before. I like it. I like this new me that I am with him.”
“Oh.” She says softly.
And then even more softly she says. “Oh my.”
Fear trickles into my brain and my heart. Then the idea that I should be offended. “Oh my? What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie. You meant something with that oh my. What were you thinking? Because if it’s something bad about Ian, I’m going to be mad at you.”
“No, no, nothing bad. Well …” she pauses “…nothing too bad.”
I jab her in the rib with my healthy elbow. “Out with it.”
She goes all serious and stern on me. “Have you slept with him yet?”
My jaw drops open with the suddenness of her approach. I lean back on the bed next to her. “Wha …?”
“Don’t play innocent with me. I’ve known you for way too long to fall for that.”
“I’ll have you know that I am an Ian-virgin, okay? Geez. I just met the guy.” I’m glad she can’t read my mind, otherwise she’d know that I’m fully prepared to sleep with him the very next time I lay eyes on his gorgeous self.
“Maybe you shouldn’t. Sleep with him, I mean.”
I look at her, trying to read her mind through her eyes. All I see there is sadness. “Why not?”
“Because. It could go bad.”
“What could go bad?” I shake my head at her. “You’re talking in riddles, Andie, and I have to tell you … it’s annoying as hell. I’m injured if you haven’t noticed.” I hold up my arm for confirmation. “And I have a headache. Just say whatever it is you need to say and be done with it.”
She stares at the floor for a really long time. I’m starting to think she’s fallen into a trance when she finally lifts her head up and speaks.
“I can tell you like him. I mean, really like him. But sweetie, Ian’s not into commitment. If you sleep with him, it’s a guaranteed broken heart for you, and I’d hate to see that happen.”
I scoff, trying to play off the way her words have made my heart leap and flip around. “Please. As if I’d fall for Ian MacKenzie.”
A small knock comes at the door and a head pops in. “You decent?”
Happiness fills me to the point that I feel like I’m about to choke on it. “Ian! You came!” He must have broken all land-speed records to get here this quick. Maybe he was already shopping for me when I called. Just the idea makes me go all warm and gushy inside.
He pushes the door open more fully and nods at Andie. “Andie.”
“Ian,” she says, standing. “Where’d you come from?”
“Store.” He holds up a bag that has a big red circle on it. “Got what you asked for.” Tossing it on the bed, he turns around to leave.
“Where are you going?” I ask, worried he’s about to abandon me.
“Thought I’d wait outside ’til you’re dressed.”
I smile at Andie and give
her the look. “Isn’t that polite of you, Ian. Thank you so much.”
“Sure.” He’s outside the door before Andie has a chance to say anything else in his presence.
She shakes her head. “You are seriously going to regret this. Mark my words.”
“That is just mean, Andie.” I shake my head. “I don’t get you. Why are you being like this? Is it lack of sleep or something? Hormones?” I pause, suddenly remembering she just had a baby. Duh. “It’s hormones, isn’t it?”
Andie turns sideways and takes my hand. “Babe. Listen to me. Ian is a sweetheart when he wants to be. I’m not arguing that. But he is not into commitment, do you understand what I’m saying? He’s had years to settle down and he’s done the exact opposite, okay? He’s raising hell in town every weekend, he drinks too much, he sleeps around. He’s not your type.”
I pull my hand from hers and take the bag Ian tossed into the room, opening it up to see what’s inside. “He hasn’t slept with old Banana, I’ll have you know. She was lying about that.”
“Whatever. If it wasn’t her, it was someone else. And I know you. You’re not the fling type. You say you are, but you aren’t.”
I frown at her. Some kind of alien has taken over my BFF’s body, apparently. Andie would know better than to say that about me. “What are you talking about? I have flings.”
“Name one.”
I lift my chin. This is an easy one. I fling around all the time. I’m the fling master. I’m a flinger of the highest degree. They call me the fling dinger. “Matthias.”
“You wanted to bear his children. You told me that after your first and only date. That is not a fling. It’s an obsession and the exact opposite.”
“I was only joking.” He was super cute, though. He had awesome DNA. I could see it in his cheekbones. You can tell a lot from a man’s cheekbones and other facial features.
“I still remember the baby names you told me you were going to use,” she says frowning, giving me the Andie evil-eye.
“Fine.” She wins that one. But I have more. Lots more. “What about Jason?”
“When he didn’t call after your third date you practically stalked him.”
I gasp. “I did not! I would never!”
“Okay, maybe stalk is a strong word, but you did friend him under a fake name on Facebook so you could check his relationship status and photos.”
My face burns with the memory. “I had too much wine. I can’t be held responsible for that night.”
“I’m just saying … you’re not the fling type. Your heart is too big for that kind of nonsense.”
I think about her comment for a few seconds before responding. “I do have a pretty big heart, that’s true. But I don’t think it means I can’t have a little fun while I’m here.” I have plenty of other fling stories to challenge her with, but there’s no point now. She’s made up her mind about me and about Ian.
Andie pulls me into a hug. “Have fun. Just don’t get your hopes up or your heart broken, okay? I don’t think I could handle it.”
I lean back to see her face. “Are you crying?”
“Of course I’m crying!” she shouts. “You almost got killed by a mountain lion for shit’s sake and now you’re about to get your heart crushed by a player who I can’t kill because I’m related to him!”
“Awww, poor baby …” I pat her cheek. “Those hormones are just kicking your ass right now, aren’t they?”
She slaps my hand away. “No, stupid, it’s not the hormones. It’s you, taking risks you shouldn’t. Now, where’s the gun?” She holds out her hand as if I’m supposed to put something in it.
“What gun?” I’m all innocence.
“The gun you bought.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m not technically lying since I don’t currently know where the gun is. I hope Ian has it in his truck or somewhere else safe. That thing saved our lives today. I think.
A knock comes at the door and Ian’s voice floats into the room. “You ready yet? I have to get going. If you want a ride, you’d better come now.”
I cut Andie’s next question off with a raised hand. “Save it for later. I have to get dressed and go before Nurse Ratched brings in the National Guard.”
Andie watches me while I struggle into the outfit Ian bought me at the store. My IV hole is dripping blood, but as soon as I’m dressed I slap the gauze back on it.
When I’m finally done and standing straight, I realize with the red plaid shirt and elastic waistband jeans Ian bought me, I look like a redneck slut from the nineteen forties on a bender. Andie and I stare at my sad self and then burst out laughing together.
“I’m not worried anymore,” Andie finally says, still smiling.
“Worried about what?”
“Worried that Ian will convince you to run away with him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, a little confused.
She points at me. “If that’s his idea of a cute outfit, he doesn’t stand a chance with you.”
Ha, ha, ha.
I laugh right along with her, but inside I’m telling her she doesn’t know diddly squat about me or Ian. He did this on purpose, which is his way of begging me to come at him with everything I’ve got. I’m giddy inside, knowing that he thinks he’s winning but that he’s wrong. I am seriously going to get him when he least expects it. He has totally met his match in me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE RIDE BACK FROM THE hospital is awkward. Ian’s rescued me from Andie’s interrogation, but now as I think back on all the things I was saying to her and what was going on in my mind, I realize what I actually meant. I like Ian. I mean, I really like him.
Sneaking glances at him as he drives and hums along to the radio only confirms my suspicion. God, he’s gorgeous. Sexy. Adorable. There’s no way I can just sleep with this guy and escape unscathed. He’s going to take a piece of my heart and I’ll have to leave it behind when I go. Do I want to do that? Can I do that?
“What’s going on in that bean of yours?” he asks without looking at me.
“Just thinking about how sexy I look in these clothes,” I say, glad he can’t read minds. “I don’t know how you’re going to keep your hands off me now.”
He chuckles. “Me neither. Thought those colors suited you.”
I pull out the waistband. “And this elastic too. Sexy, sexy.”
“Makes it easier to get in and out of ‘em with a hurt arm.”
I laugh. “Don’t play. You know you bought these for me because they were the most hideous pair in the entire store.”
“Wrong again,” he says, pulling onto the dirt road from the paved one. “Trust me. There were way worse ones there I could’ve bought for you. I can go back and get ‘em if you want.” He glances at me and winks.
I just blow out some air and stare out the side window. I have no response for that. My brain isn’t running on all cylinders. It sounds like he was being nice again, even though he dressed me like a drunken redneck granny.
“Want me to take care of Candy for ya?” he asks.
I look at him. “She’s real?”
“Of course she’s real.” He frowns at me a couple times before going back to watching the road. “You sure you should be out of the hospital?”
“Of course I should be. I just … wasn’t sure if I dreamed that part or not.”
“No, you definitely didn’t dream it. And she’s probably pretty hungry right now.”
My gut twists uncomfortably as I think about that poor baby starving without me there to feed her. “Hurry up, Ian, go faster.”
“Just relax. I’m messing with you. She’ll be fine.”
I wipe the nervous sweat off my forehead. “Just hurry up.”
The car goes quiet for a while and then he speaks again when we’re not far from the ranch. “You’re really worried about that calf, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am.” I look at him and try to figure out why th
at’s so surprising to him. “Aren’t you?”
“I guess.” He pulls into the parking space for his truck but doesn’t turn off the engine. Instead he puts the truck into park and takes his seatbelt off. He stares out the window as he rests his arms on the wheel.
“What are we doing?” I ask.
“Just thinking.”
I stare at the flakes of snow that fall lazily to the truck’s windshield. They melt before they can build up, probably because Ian has had the heater blasting all the way here.
“Thinking about what?” I finally ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Just thinking that you turned out different than I thought you would be.” He finally looks at me, but I cannot read his expression at all. The waning light is not helping any.
“How so? I mean, what did you expect?”
He looks down at my clothes and then my shoes before coming back up to meet my gaze. “Not this.” He turns off the truck, opens his door, and jumps out before I can say anything back.
I throw my door open and try to get out, getting tangled up when I realize that I forgot to take my seatbelt off first.
“I wouldn’t look like this if it wasn’t for you!” I shout at his rapidly disappearing back.
“You’re welcome!” he yells over his shoulder.
“I didn’t say thank you!” I yell back.
When I’m finally out of the seatbelt, my feet hit the snow and by some kind of miracle, I don’t fall. I walk with my legs kind of far apart so I have better grip on the ground. Following Ian’s footsteps, I make it all the way to the barn without getting snow on anything but my boots. I’m practically a native now, the way I can negotiate these treacherous grounds. I’m grinning from ear-to-ear when I get in the barn.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ian’s muttering. “I hear ya.”
“Are you talking to me?” I ask as I walk up to the stable box where the calf is. Ian’s around the corner doing something.
My little baby is walking around, sniffing the straw and tossing it around. She’s covered in little bits of it.
I open the door and go in, and she runs to the opposite side and stares at me. When I bend down and talk nonsense to her, she takes a few tentative steps in my direction.
