MacKenzie Fire(82)

Ian goes very still.

“So, Ginny’s telling everyone that Andie broke you and Mack up and her and Ian up?”

“Yes.” Hannah sighs and shoves her hands in her coat pockets. “She was pretty broken hearted when Ian dumped her. She might be embellishing the facts a little, I admit, but it wasn’t me who did it, okay? I tried to tell her to let it go, but she won’t. She’s super bitter. Like outer limits bitter.”

Ian looks up at the sky and shakes his head for a few seconds. Then he growls and looks straight ahead out into the street. “That’s pretty f*cking rich … me dumping her? She’s got to be crazy.”

“You didn’t dump her?” I ask, a sharp stabbing sensation inside my chest making my heart ache. Does this mean he never wanted to break up with her in the first place? Does he still love her? And if he does, why does that make me so damn sad? I’m leaving here!

“Of course I broke up with her!” he says, turning his ire on me. “But it wasn’t my choice! It was hers!” He lets out a long breath and talks in a calmer voice. “She chose to throw herself at my brother. That’s on her, not me.”

“But she says you practically made her do it,” Hannah says in a small voice. “She was just trying to get your attention. You didn’t have to break up with her over it.”

Ian glares at Hannah. “Do you seriously believe that crap?”

Hannah shrugs. “Kind of?”

“Well, quit doing it, ‘cause it ain’t true.” Ian stands with hunched shoulders, blowing white smoke out with every breath, shaking his head.

“Ain’t isn’t a word,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. I can’t help but feel sad that maybe Mack was wrong about everything he thinks he knows about his brother. But that doesn’t mean I want Ian to be sad. Maybe he still wants to be with Ginny, and if that’s what he wants, then I’m going to have to like him enough to help him get it. That’s what people do for people they … care about.

Ian glares at me. “I’ve got a word for you.”

My jaw goes a little off to the side. “Let’s hear it then.”

Ian says nothing. We just stare at each other. I’m using every bit of willpower I have to not smile. He is so damn cute when he’s angry.

“So you guys are dating now, huh?” Hannah asks.

I laugh a little. “Kind of hard to be doing that when you never actually go out on a date.”

Ian frowns playfully. “What do you mean I never take you out on a date? We went to the shooting range together, where you shot me by the way, we went checking cows, feeding the calf …”

“You didn’t take me to the range, you fool, I took myself. And I didn’t shoot you either.”

He looks at Hannah. “Did you see my scar? She shot me. I have witnesses.”

Hannah laughs. “It’s about time someone shot you, idiot.” She starts walking away. “I have to go back to work.”

I talk at her back. “Thanks for telling us about Ginny. But you better not keep talking about Andie like that. I’m serious, Hannah!”

She waves over her head, her bright red nails showing off well against the white snowy backdrop. “Yeah, yeah.”

Ian wraps his arms around me from behind, trapping my arms at my sides. “You’re my prisoner.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s you who’s my prisoner,” I say, smiling. People in the diner are probably staring at us, but I don’t care. Let the world see that this man makes me completely silly.

“Do you always argue about everything?” he asks.

“No. Do you?”

“No. Never. Only with you. But I’m pretty sure it’s not me actually arguing. It’s you doing that.” He kisses my neck and then snorts in there too like a wild pig or something, giving me goosebumps all over.

I turn around and fling my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “Stop that, Piglet.”

“I can’t help it.” He buries his face in my neck again. “You smell so good. And you taste good too.” He pushes his hips into me a little, letting me know he’s ready to go again for another roll in the hay or the straw or whatever that yellow stuff is.

“You’re so bad,” I say, smiling like a looney bird. I would totally do him standing up out here. I would.

A car drives by and honks several times. Then someone yells out the window. “Get a room!”

Ian lifts his head and then flips someone the bird. They honk some more.

“Come on. Let’s go home.” Ian puts our hands in his coat pocket again.

His choice of words makes me sad. Home. Home is where the heart is but I live in Florida. Can I live in a different place than my heart? Talk about mood swings. I’m back to fighting tears off again. I must be ready to have my period or something. Maybe the jet lag is throwing off my calendar or something. I shouldn’t be this moody until next week.

“What’s wrong?” he asks me as we approach the truck.

“Nothing.” I get inside with his help and wait for him to shut the door, but he just stands there instead, looking up at me.

“What?” I ask, avoiding looking into his eyes. I focus on his hair instead.

“You’re sad or mad or something.”