MacKenzie Fire(80)

I stop, but only because he’s making it impossible for me to get any traction on the snow. “What, Ian? I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“That’s what worries me. That and the Terminator look on your face.” He pulls me into him and looks down at me. “What’s going on? What can I do to help?”

Some of my anger leaves, replaced by more of those mushy feelings Ian keeps making happen inside me. I have to blink back tears that jump into my eyes for some reason. I’m so confused.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, pulling away from him. “I’m fine.” I use the tip of my glove to wipe under my lower lashes. I can’t have my mascara leaking all over the place when I’m about to throw down, country style. “I just need to go have a chat with Hannah.”

“Hannah? Why? What about?”

“I’ll tell you when we get there. Can you drive me?”

Ian looks out towards the back pastures and then at the trucks. “I suppose, if it won’t take too long.”

I turn to go to the truck. “Won’t take long at all. Just take me to the diner and we’ll have our little chat and then you can take me home.”

Ian looks at his watch as he draws up next to me. “It’ll be lunchtime then. They get slammed every day at noon. She probably won’t be able to talk to you until after two.”

“Oh, don’t worry. She really just needs to listen, so we’ll be fine.”

I get to the truck and climb in without thinking about it. I’m too focused on teaching Hannah a thing or two about city girls to worry about falling or looking graceful.

Seconds after, Ian and I are sitting side by side in the truck. I’m staring out the window waiting for it to start, but it doesn’t, so I look at him and ask, “What’s the hold up?”

“You sure look cute climbing up into my truck,” he says, grinning.

More of my anger at Hannah and her b.s. falls away. “Stop trying to manipulate me into doing what you want.”

He laughs. “Is that even possible?”

“No. So stop trying.”

He chuckles halfway down the road leading to the highway as I work on getting all the straw out of my hair.





Chapter Thirty-Seven





THE DINER IS PACKED. SEVERAL people are waiting for tables by the time we walk in at twelve thirty. I don’t bother standing behind them, though. I’m not here for waffles this time.

I scan the space and find Hannah behind the counter, serving someone some coffee. It’s decaf, and that pisses me off probably way more than it should. I knew she was lying before when she said they didn’t have any. That wench.

Striding over, I ignore the looks of interest that come at me from everyone in my path. I stop when I’m in front of Hannah, behind the broad back of a very big man with puffy, dark hair.

“Hannah, I need to talk to you.”

She looks up in surprise and then scowls. “I’m busy.”

“So? I need to talk to you anyway.”

I feel someone at my back and turn around. Ian’s there, looking very worried. His presence reassures me and makes me feel bolder.

“Hey, Hannah,” he says in greeting, before turning his attention to me. He’s talking barely above a whisper. “Maybe we can do this later, someplace else?”

“Nope, we can do it right now.” I fold my arms across my chest and go back to staring Hannah down.

Several people have stopped eating to watch. The man in front of me turns around, and I notice for the first time that it’s Boog.

“Hello there,” he says.

I cringe at the food shrapnel in his beard. It might be egg.

“Hi, Boog,” I say before turning my attention back to Hannah. “You and I need to talk.”

She cocks her hip and slams the orange-topped pot down on the counter. It’s a miracle it doesn’t break. “Like I said, I’m busy.” Some of the hot coffee sloshes out onto Boog’s plate.

He stares at the brown pool in his plate along with Ian, but her violence with caffeine doesn’t dissuade me from my mission one iota.

“I hear you’ve been starting up and spreading vicious rumors about my friend Andie all over town for the past year.”

“Who said that?” Hannah asks, her face all screwed up. She looks at Boog. “Did you say that?”

Boog’s mouth falls open, but before he can get a word out, I continue.

“Doesn’t matter who said it, what matters is that it stops. Today.” I give her my most dangerous look.

“I know you’re not talking to me,” she says, taking her hand off the coffee pot and folding her arms across her chest. They push her boobs almost completely out of her top.

“I am most certainly talking to you, Hannah Banana.”

She begins untying the apron around her waist. “I told you before, my name is Hannah. Just Hannah!” She finally gets all the straps from her apron undone. After crumpling the entire thing up into a ball, she throws it on the counter, covering half of Boog’s plate.

Her attention is back on me. “You say one more word to me about that girl and we’re going to have a big problem,” she warns.

She took her apron off, so oh yeah, it’s totally on. I am so ready to teach his country bumpkin a lesson in how we city girls roll.