MacKenzie Fire(50)

“No. Like a cello. More like a cello. And I don’t like being played like a cello.”

He laughs. “Why like a cello and not a fiddle?”

“Ian.” I glare at him.

“No, I’m serious. I want to know.”

“Because.” I pause, wondering if he’ll understand. “I’m way deeper than a fiddle.”

He thinks about it for a few seconds and then nods. “I agree. But not with the fact that I’m playing you.”

“You and I both know that from the very second you laid eyes on me, you decided you didn’t like me and you were going to mess with me. And so far, you’ve done a really good job. But I’ve got a monster headache and I’m dizzy and my arm stings, so it’s really not very fair of you to do any of that while I’m suffering. Just give me forty-eight hours and you can re-start your campaign.”

He’s laughing again. “My campaign? What campaign?”

“Your campaign of … messing with me.”

He stops laughing. “You think this is just a game with me? That I don’t like you?”

I roll my eyes, even though it hurts to do it. “Of course it is and of course you don’t. Come on. Stop it. I told you, I’m on the injured list.” I have to close my eyes to block out the light. It’s just too painful to focus on him.

“Okay, if that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone.” His hand starts to pull out of mine and my fingers twitch uncontrollably.

He pauses. “What? You don’t want me to go?” His teasing voice is back.

Time stretches between us. I’m not sure what to say. Should I lie or tell the truth? I decide on something in the middle.

“Your hand is warm, and I appreciate the company.” I know Andie can’t be here, and aside from her, I can’t think of anyone I’d want here with me more than Ian. Stupid jerk.

His hand moves more deeply into mine and he smooths his thumb across the back of my fingers. “Okay, I’ll stay. But only because it’s part of my big campaign.”

I smile as I drift back to sleep. “Good. I’m going to win, you know.”

“Win what?”

“Win the war.”

As I’m drifting off, I hear him say, “I’ll let you win a battle or two, but I’ll be the one winning this war.”





Chapter Twenty-Two





THE NEXT TIME I OPEN my eyes it’s Andie at the side of my bed in a chair and it’s just the two of us in the room.

“Where’s the baby?” I ask, my voice raspy and not very attractive. I sound like I’ve been smoking three packs a day for the last thirty years. I have no idea what time it is or even if we’re in the same day as I was when I arrived.

“She’s with her daddy one floor above you. How are you feeling?”

“Good. Great.” I try to sit up but the pounding in my head makes it slow going. “Damn headache.”

“You have a slight concussion. Maybe you should stay down.” She puts her hand on my arm and her expression is pure concern.

“No, thanks. I need to get out of here. My co-pay is outrageous.”

“Don’t worry about the co-pay. Just get better.” Andie sits back in her chair and rubs her belly. She still looks pretty pregnant but no way in the world will I tell her that.

“How’s Sarah?” I ask, directing the conversation away from myself. I know once Andie realizes I’m okay, she’ll start scolding me for having that gun. Better to divert her attention before she becomes fixated on things I’d rather not discuss.

“She’s perfect. We’re going home later today. Maybe we can all ride together. They said you don’t need to stay another night. You just have to rest.”

“Do I get to ride in the back with her?” I like the idea of making googly eyes at her for the thirty minutes it’ll take to get back to the ranch. I need her to memorize my face before I leave so when I call her on the phone she’ll know who’s talking.

“If you want.” Andie stares at me and then leans in closer, lowering her voice. “So what’s going on with you and Ian?”

I look around the room, making sure he’s not hiding in any corners. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m gone for a day and suddenly you guys are out getting into all kinds of trouble.”

Something tells me the best plan of action here is to play the drama down as much as possible. I don’t want Ian getting into trouble. He didn’t do anything wrong. “I was just taking a ride in the truck while he was checking cows. It was no big deal.”

“That’s not the way we heard it.” She frowns at me. “You know he’s got a wild streak.”

It makes me cranky just hearing her say that. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Then what are you doing here in the hospital with stitches and a concussion?”

I struggle to sit up. I’m too angry to remain lying down for this conversation. “It’s a slight concussion, not a full-on one. Besides, that has nothing to do with him, okay? He was perfectly nice. A perfect gentleman.” I pause so she can see how serious I am. She just doesn’t understand him like I do, apparently, which is pretty sad since she sees him every stinking day. “Have you ever checked cows before?”