MacKenzie Fire(29)

I give him my very best innocent look and bat my eyelashes a few times for extra effect. “Yes, I did. What do you call a guy who has the good fortune of getting out of a big mistake before it’s an even bigger mistake and then makes everyone miserable about it for three years? A hero? I don’t think so. More like a whiney-baby.”

His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses. It’s possible he’s considering putting a hole through the wall with his fist.

I hold up my hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”

He puts his hands on his hips. “That’s not what that expression means,” he says, his teeth pressed together.

“Sure it is. I’m giving you the message that it’s time for you to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re getting all cranky after hearing my message, and I’m just saying … don’t be hatin’ on me because I’m just telling you the things people are saying all over town about you.”

He takes a step towards me, his anger falling away to something else. Worry maybe? Fear? Curiosity?

“Are you serious?” he asks. “Who’s saying that about me?”

I snort. “Please. Who’s not saying it would be an easier question to answer.” I actually have no idea if anyone is saying anything about Ian, but does that stop me? No. He’s so much cuter when he’s not feeling sorry for himself. Maybe he’s been acting like a butthead for three years because no one’s kicked him in the pants yet. He sure needs a kick in the pants, that much is obvious.

Surprisingly, he comes back and sits down next to me. “You need to tell me who’s been flapping their lips about me and Ginny.”

“No, I don’t.” I smile and point to my head. “Steel trap, remember?”

“Screw your steel trap.” He stares at me intensely.

I grin because I cannot help it. He’s positively adorable when he’s mad. “Do you have any idea how wrong that sounds?”

“How wrong what sounds?”

“That you want to screw my steel trap.”

He leans back, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as his body goes slack. “I didn’t say that.”

I shrug and check my nails again. “If that’s what you want to tell people. I’ll back you up.”

“You’ll back me up.” He says it like a statement. I can tell he’s looking at me, but I don’t return his gaze. The atmosphere has suddenly gone … warm.

“That’s what I said.” I cross my legs and play with the furry top of my awesome boot, still not looking at him.

“I think you would,” he says, sounding like he’s actually admiring me.

I look over at him to see if he’s messing with me. My heart does what can only be termed a pitter-patter. “You think I would, what?”

“Back me up. Have my back. If I needed you to, I mean.”

I picture Ian needing a helping hand and there’s just no question which side of the line I’d be on. He’s Andie’s brother now. “Hell yeah, I would. You’re practically family.” I shrug and go back to fiddling with my boot. “Family gets automatic, unquestioned back-up at any time. That’s my rule.”

He says nothing for a little while and then comes out with, “I like your rule.”

I look at him and wink. “I know you do.” I have no idea what that means. I just have this desire to flirt with him that apparently knows no bounds. I’m not even making sense anymore. This situation is so confusing. Floor and ceiling, feel free to change positions because at this point I’m not going to know the difference.

He laughs has he rolls his eyes. “Girl, you are something else.”

The mood in the room has gone from silly, to sad, to tense, to explosive and back to happy and relaxed, with almost no effort on my part. It’s like a circus but without clowns or animals or gymnasts or any of that other stuff. The only explanation is Ian. It’s all his fault. He sure is a moody butthead. Why that makes him even more attractive to me than he was before, I have no idea, but there’s no denying it does. I guess even though I’m nearing thirty and should know better, I still find bad boys enough of a challenge that I can’t walk away. And Ian is most definitely a bad boy.

I stare at him, taking in his lean, muscular form, his chiseled from stone good looks, his wind-burned cheeks, his gorgeous green eyes, and his stupid blue hat that does not match his complexion at all, knowing he would give me a serious run for my money if I were interested in that kind of thing with him. How this man is not yet married is some kind of miracle. The girls in Baker City have got to be stupid. Or maybe they don’t like hunters either.

The thought sparks an idea in my steel trap of a mind. Maybe if I ask him really nicely, he’ll stop shooting animals. Then he could find a new woman and be happy again. Andie’s brother-in-law should be happy. Then she’ll be happy and Mack will be happy and the whole damn world will be happy. I could leave for Florida knowing I’ve left the world here a better place. I sigh with bliss, thinking this must be what Mother Theresa felt like.

“What would it take to convince you to stop hunting animals?” I ask, my plan already in motion.

He stares at me for a long time before he finally answers. “A lot more than you can afford to give, believe me.”

I just smile at him, knowing my battle is almost half won already. This man has no idea what he’s in for.