MacKenzie Fire(4)

“Yeah, I got it.” Ian disappears behind the truck, probably to go abuse my luggage some more.

I cringe at my girlfriend, worrying she’ll bite the dust when she makes contact with all that frozen water. But it appears as if my worry is unfounded. She has obviously done this a lot. She lands safely with just a tiny crunch of snow and turns around to wait for me.

Attempting the same dismount, I’m not nearly as sure-footed or successful. Thank goodness I was holding onto the door with one hand and the seatbelt with the other using my kung-fu grip, otherwise I would have taken another tumble, only this time in Oregon and not Idaho. I backpedal for a few seconds before my feet decide it’s time to grip the ground for me.

What. The. Hell. I’ve never been so clumsy in my entire life.

What is it with these top-left states anyway? Why can’t they be more like Florida or Georgia, states in the bottom-right of the map? I never ever fall in the bottom-right states. I’m graceful and elegant there, like a swan or a flamingo. Here, I feel like a water buffalo or something. And that makes sense, since they have buffalo here and water with all this snow. I’ll bet water buffalos originally come from Oregon, which is how they got their name. I’m going to have to Google that when I get a chance, but until I verify, I’m going to go with it as fact. It totally makes sense.

“Careful,” Andie cautions, “the ground is really wet. And hard.” She holds out a hand to steady me.

“Yeah, I know.” I roll my eyes at her as I gain my feet again. No way am I going to take her offer of help. I’ll end up taking her roley poley self down with me and causing her to go into labor, and I am not into seeing baby goo. I leave that kind of nonsense to the doctors. “I have the proof of how hard this ground is on my ass, thank you very much. I’ll be bruised for the whole week.”

“Well, that’s great. It means you’ll have a whole two weeks of not being bruised before you have to go back.” She grins. She really is cute when she does that, but I’m not falling for it.

“I can’t stay for three weeks, I told you that. Two weeks only. That’s all the time I have.” I feel a little guilty about it since I hardly ever see her anymore, but not as much as I did on the airplane. The snow and the ice have tempered my enthusiasm for this place considerably. Screw pom-pom boots. The fashion isn’t worth the butt-cheek frostbite I’m suffering right now. Nothing better fall off, that’s all I’m saying.

“Oh, she’s here!” exclaims a voice from inside. The porch door flies open and an older woman with poorly-died brown hair swept up in a bun comes running out. She’s wearing heavy house slippers with jeans and a man’s flannel shirt over a turtleneck. I can’t help but smile at her lovely face and sadly coordinated fashion.

“Hi, Maeve! So nice to be here!” I shall now commence the lying. I’m happy to be with these people, yes, but not in this frigid place.

“Come, come, come … get in the house. It’s terribly cold out today. Unseasonably so, isn’t it Andie?”

Andie snorts behind me as she clomps up the stairs. “Oh, yeah. Normally it’s super balmy.”

“You’re so bad,” Maeve scolds her daughter-in-law as she ushers me into the house. The door bangs shut behind us with the force of Ian’s brawn.

The warmth envelopes me in its arms, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. My nostril hairs are instantly thawed. I inhale and wiggle my nose just to be sure there are no remaining icicles in there. Having one of those drop out would be more than a little embarrassing. Nope. No crunching.

My smile is genuine. “Thank you so much for having me, Maeve. I really appreciate it. I don’t want to be a bother, though, so I’m happy to stay in town.”

“Nonsense! You’re staying here with Angus and me. We wouldn’t hear of you staying so far away.”

The three of us girls walk into the kitchen and take seats around the dining table. They have a perfectly nice living room, but as far as I’ve seen it never gets used. The wood stove is in the kitchen and that’s where everyone congregates, even in the summer.

“Where do you want her bag?” Ian asks from the doorway.

I try not to look at him, but it’s impossible not to. His presence is totally commanding. I’ve heard that expression before, but until being around him I never really appreciated what it meant. He’s like the boss of my eyeballs or something.

Do not look at his package, Candice. Do not look at his package. My eyes move of their own accord. Oh dammit, you looked at his package! And … oh my … Oh my, my, my … There’s a giant bulge! Hooray for giant bulges and the jeans that let me see them!

“Put her in Mack’s room,” Maeve says, getting up from the table. She has no clue that I just eye-groped her son, thank goodness.

“But that’s …” He clamps his mouth shut and says nothing more.

“That’s what, dear?” his mother asks, getting out mugs and turning on the coffee pot.

“He was going to whine that it’s too close to his bedroom,” says Andie in a teasing tone.

“Nooo, Ian wouldn’t say that,” says Maeve, laughing it off. “He’s a big boy.” She looks up at her son. “You’re not afraid of a girl being across the hall from you, are you Ian?”

He shakes his head as he turns to leave. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He and his glorious package are gone and my luggage goes with them. And oh my goodness does he not have the finest ass there ever was? Yes, sir, he does. That’s one thing I remembered from my last trip out here. No man has ever filled out a pair of jeans like Ian MacKenzie. Too bad that ass is connected to a big dope of a guy.