MacKenzie Fire(49)

Chapter Twenty-One





I CAN HEAR SOUNDS, BUT I can’t see anything. My eyes are shut. I’m trying to open them but they don’t want to cooperate. Then the voices in the room stop me from trying too hard.

“Ma, anyone ever tell you you’re nosy?”

“Not anyone who wanted to live to see his next birthday.”

Ian hisses out a long breath. “Listen, I hear what you’re saying, okay? I got it. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“Looks like you already have. Andie’s best friend is laid up in the hospital with a concussion and stitches from a cougar attack on her second day. Her second day, Ian, and I hold you responsible.”

“Ma, she’s a grown woman, and if you know her at all, you know that telling her no is like talking to a wall and telling the wall no. She did all this to herself. I was just an innocent witness.”

“Innocent, my buns.”

“I told you she shot me, right? I showed you the bruise.”

“Son, knowing you, you deserved it.”

He sputters. “How can you say that? I’m your son!”

“I can say that because I know you. You’ve been looking for trouble for going on three years now. And while you may be bound and determined to screw things up for yourself, I’ll not have you doing it to Andie’s friends.”

“I ain’t.”

“Don’t use that word with me. You know I don’t like it.”

“I know. That’s why I said it. I’m trying to get you to stop nagging me.”

I can’t help but smile. At least he’s honest.

“Hey,” Ian’s voice goes suspicious. “I think she’s listening.”

I hear footsteps and then Ian’s voice much closer than it was.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Time to face the music.”

“I’ll be outside,” Maeve says, her voice softer, kinder. “Let me know when she’s ready for a visitor.” A door closes and there’s silence.

I open my eyes to find piercing green ones staring down at me. My heart flips over once when I take in how beautiful he is. There’s stubble growing in on his chin and cheeks and his hat is a different color than the one I remember him wearing. This time he’s wearing the one I picked out that he threw on the floor of his room. It makes me go all gooey inside, thinking he might have done that on purpose. Does he like me?

“That’s a good color on you,” I say.

“That’s what my fashion advisor told me.” He grins. “You feeling better?”

“Better than what?”

“Better than a girl who pissed herself, got a slight concussion and an armful of stitches fighting off a mountain lion?”

I close my eyes as my face heats up. He knows about the pee-pants. “Go away. I’m unconscious right now.” The room was swirling around a little when my eyes were open, so it feels pretty nice to go back to being half-asleep. Avoiding humiliation seems like a great idea too.

“Doc’s got you on some pretty good drugs or so the nurse says.”

“Sleeeeeeping…” I throw in a couple fake snores to drive the point home. I can’t believe he brought up the fact that I peed my pants. Who does that? Now I’ll never be sexy to him. Dammit.

“Want to know how many stitches you have?”

I sigh loudly to show my annoyance. “Want to get punched in the eyeball?” I ask.

“Not particularly.”

“Then go away. I’m tired, my head hurts, and nothing makes sense anymore.”

There’s the sound of furniture being moved across the floor, but I refuse to open my eyes and figure out what that means.

Ian’s voice is at the side of my head. “What doesn’t make sense?”

When I feel his warm hand pick up mine and hold it, it causes my chest to tighten. “That’s not helping,” I say before I can stop myself. Damn those drugs.

“What? Me holding your hand?” He strokes my fingers. “I’m just being nice. Concerned about your welfare. Grateful you saved my hide.”

I have to smile a little at that. “I did save your hide, didn’t I?”

“Yep. Like the Lone Ranger. Rode in and saved the day with your little pistola.”

I open my eyes to find him grinning at me.

“I don’t trust that face,” I say, frowning at him.

He goes all innocent on me. “What face?” He points at his chin. “This face?”

I pull my hand away from his. “Yes. Go away.” I stare at the ceiling. Having him this close makes me sad for some reason. Must be the drugs again. I never did like being on them. Wine is way better.

He takes my hand back. “Don’t be like that.”

“Ian.” I grit my teeth, trying to keep the pain back and my emotions down. “Don’t play with me, okay? I can’t deal right now. At least wait until I’m back on my feet.”

He reaches up and moves some hair away from my face. “I’m not being like anything.”

I lift my injured arm and swat his hand away. “Yes, you are. You are playing me like a … like a …”

“Fiddle?”