by Elle Casey
“Yes, but … I have my numbers back at the hotel.”
“She’d obviously rather stay at the hotel,” said Ian. “I don’t know why you guys are trying to bully her into staying when she obviously doesn’t want to stay.”
We all responded at the same time.
“They’re not bullying me.”
“We’re not bullying her!”
I stood, unable to take the strife I was causing. “Really, it’s okay. I appreciate the offer, but I should go.” I chose that moment to put my weight on my injured foot and realized too late it was a mistake. “Ah! Shit!” Teetering to the side, I fell against Boog, one of my hands slapping right into the side of his head when it reached out to stop my fall.
He sat there unmoving, just blinking rapidly several times.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, hopping onto my good foot to regain my balance. I reached out and patted his head and ear gingerly. “That must have hurt.” My own hand was tingling from the contact.
“Oh, that’s all right,” he said, ignoring my fluttering around his head while he cut away a big bite of pie from his slice. “You don’t hit very hard, even for a girl.” He continued to eat his dessert, ignoring the snickers around the table. “ ‘Course, you did just slap the man who was your only ride back into town.”
“I thought you were staying,” said Angus. “We need your help, Boog, you know that.” He sounded stressed. It was really awful compared to the happy-go-lucky Angus who’d been so kind throughout dinner.
“I know that, but she left her little three-banger out in a pothole back down the road, and I know she can’t ride a horse, so what do you want me to do?”
“I can bring her back,” said Mack, sighing heavily.
“No, son, you know we can’t spare you right now.” Angus was angry now.
“It’s only an hour.” Mack pushed his plate away.
I felt terrible. Bringing me back to town was obviously a huge problem. “Never mind,” I said, hurriedly. “I’ll figure something else out. How about a taxi? I can take a taxi.”
Maeve gave me a smile of pity. “I’m afraid our town’s taxi service leaves something to be desired. But I’ll try and give them a call if you like.”
I nodded. “That would be great. I’m sorry to put you out over this.” I stared down at my pie. Its sugar-glossed crust and warm gooey brown apples had lost a little of their appeal. I wasn’t sure my stomach could handle all that happiness.
“It’s no trouble at all, I promise,” assured Maeve. “How about you eat that pie, and I’ll go make the call?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. For some reason I felt like crying. These people were being so nice to me. I wondered what they’d do if I told them the truth. Probably kick me out the front door and tell me to walk back, rattlesnakes be damned.
“I made the crust myself using real butter. You let me know if you like it.” Maeve winked and left the table.
I dared a glimpse at Mack. He was steadily eating away at his dessert, his eyes glued to the task. No way was he going to reveal what he was thinking, that was obvious. It was a miracle I met him at the blackjack tables that night. He should have been at the poker tables; he was probably really good at that game with his ability to hide what he was thinking. I know I was completely in the dark about what was going on in his head, and I’d been studying him surreptitiously all night.
“What’s the important phone call all about?” asked Ian. “Lawyer stuff?”
I looked up sharply at him. He was smiling, clearly thinking he’d caught me in a lie. Little shit.
“Yes. Lawyer stuff.”
“You’re a lawyer?” asked Angus. “What kinda lawyer?”
“I’m a litigator.”
“She likes to argue. Why doesn’t that surprise me?” asked Ian.
“Shut up, Ian,” said Mack.
“Why don’t you make me, Mack?” Ian dropped his fork loudly on his plate and threw his napkin down next to it.
Mack followed suit and stood, his chair scraping the floor behind him. “Come on, then. It’s been a while since I’ve beat your behind. Looks like you’re long past due.”
“Boys, sit down,” said Angus, sighing and shaking his head. He seemed relatively unconcerned about the idea of his two grown sons assaulting each other. “They’re always full of piss and vinegar during B and C.”
“B and C?” I asked.
The two brothers smiled devilishly, first at their father and then me, twin gods - so alike and yet so different - arresting my heart for a full two seconds. Adorable? MacKenzie be thy name.
“B and C’s just a little nickname we have for branding and castration,” said Ian.
My stomach turned over, all visions of the MacKenzie gorgeousness fading to be replaced by the idea of burning skin and sliced body parts. “You actually do that?”
“Yes, we actually do that,” Angus said, smiling patiently, “just like ranchers all over the world.” He stood. “Come on, Boog. I’ve got something to show you. You too, Ian. I’m putting you on the tails.”
“I prefer the heads,” said Ian, his good humor gone. He walked out of the room with his father and Boog behind him.
Angus’s voice faded out into the air on the porch. “Well, when you’re in charge, you can be wherever you want. Tonight you’re on the tails.”
Mack and I were left alone in the dining room. I opened my mouth to speak, but he turned to follow them before a single word had come out, effectively cutting me off. I huffed out a sigh of frustration and put my hands on my hips. Annoyance and hurt gave me the courage to speak even though it was clear he had no interest in listening. “You’re just going to go without saying anything?” It was making me crazy how he was acting like this whole situation was something he could just ignore. How can he be so unaffected and casual about everything when I’m not even sure which end of my world is up anymore?
“I have work to do.” He didn’t look at me; he just stared out the glass doors to the back porch, absently pulling a well-worn baseball hat out of his back pocket.
“Yeah, well, I have a wedding to get to, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you about our divorce.” The last word almost got stuck in my throat. The idea of divorcing a man like him felt completely wrong, which is absolutely crazy, ridiculous, and stupid beyond measure. But I could no longer fight the feeling than I could change the fact that I’d somehow, for some reason I didn’t yet fully understand, married this man after only knowing him for a few hours.
He faced me, putting his hands on the back of his chair and letting the hat dangle off to the side in his fingers. His tone went cocky. “I don’t think we need a divorce, actually.”
I lifted an eyebrow at him. “Oh yeah? How so?”
He shrugged. “Because I don’t think we’re married. No marriage, no divorce.”
I snorted. I might be waffling around about my feelings or emotions, but I know my legal paperwork. There was no denying what’s in black and white as much as we might want to. “Oh, we’re married, trust me.”
“Says you.”
I bristled, lifting my chin in defiance. “Says the State of Nevada and your signature on the marriage license.” Dumbass jerk butthead cowboy redneck sexy person. God, why does he have to be so sexy!
“Could be forged.”
My jaw dropped open at the accusation that lay beneath his words. “Why on earth would I forge your signature to a marriage document when I don’t even know you?”
His eyes burned into mine. “I think the better question is why would you even marry me in the first place if you didn’t know me?”
The room went dead silent. A cuckoo clock started doing its thing in the next room, the clacking sound of the little bird’s door following each of its cries.
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo!
Mack was right. So was the damn clock. We both had to be complet
ely crazy to have done what we did in Vegas. My pie threatened to make another very unpleasant appearance, my stomach burning with embarrassment, anger, and something very much like sadness. We were crazy two years ago. Crazy in love. The words haunted my soul and refused to be buried in the darkness anymore.
“Like I said,” he continued in a softer voice, “I have to get to work. Maybe we can chat later.”
He left me standing at the dining room table with tears shining in my eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“AWW, SWEETIE, WHAT’S WRONG?” ASKED Maeve, coming into the room and stopping at my side.
I hurriedly wiped the tears away. “Oh, nothing. I got pepper in my eye.”
She pulled her head back in confusion. “Pepper? How’d you get pepper in your eye?”
I waved her question away, trying to distract her. “Did you find a taxi for me?”
She shook her head sadly. “No, I’m sorry, but I guess they’re all full right now.” She went around the table picking up dishes and leftover food. She left me alone in the dining room, carrying everything into the kitchen.
I grabbed a couple plates and followed her, limping the whole way, too afraid to put all my weight on my foot again. “The taxis are full? What do you mean, full?”
“They only have a couple cars and they’re on call for all kinds of things. I think tonight there’s a dance at the high school, so they’ll be busy all night shuttling kids around.”
“Wow,” I said. What are the chances that the one time I’d need a taxi in Baker City there’d be a prom going on?
“That’s small-town life for ya,” she said. She didn’t sound upset about it. “You take the good with the bad.”
“Well, aside from that amazing dinner and dessert, I haven’t seen any of the good.” I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. I blamed Mack for getting me all messed up in the head and causing me to forget my manners. Him and Ian both, two butthead peas in a pod.
“Oh, it’s not all that bad.” There was a smile in her voice.
I breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t taken offense to my careless words.
“You’ve only seen the hotel and the road out here, and believe me, that’s no way to judge our little town. You stay the night tonight, and tomorrow I’ll pack you and Mack a nice lunch. He can take you out for a ride and show you a little bit of the hills and some of the other nicer areas. That way when you go back home you can have a nice well-rounded picture of the Baker City MacKenzies for your research.”
“A ride? As in on a horse?”
“Unless you prefer a four-wheeler.” She piled up dishes next to the sink.
“I don’t even know what that is, but wheels sound better than horse legs to me.”
“We prefer the horses, actually. They don’t cost any gas money so they’re better for the wallet and the environment. And they can go just about anywhere. Some of the places I’m sure Mack would want to show you are impossible to get to any way other than on horseback.” She looked at me and winked. “You’ll miss half the fun not being on a horse.”
“I’d probably get killed if I tried to ride a horse.” The idea was both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. I’d always been fascinated by the beasts but never considered they’d be a part of my life. As far as I was concerned, horses were for movies and weird rodeo channels on TV.
“You’ve never ridden before?” she asked, sounding like she wouldn’t believe me if I said yes.
“I was close enough to touch one once.”
“I’m sensing a story here. What happened?”
I ran my finger along the edge of the counter and got lost in the memory of being in a barn at a summer camp when I was ten. “I remember thinking how beautiful he was. Huge. Proud or something. The person I was with told me to pet him on the nose. When I finally worked up the nerve to do it and reached my hand out, he lifted his head up in one big jerk and whinnied so loud I peed my pants.”
Maeve burst out in musical laughter. “Oh, Andie, that’s priceless. How old were you?”
“Nine or ten. Old enough to remember with distinct clarity the humiliation of having peed my pants at an age where a girl isn’t supposed to do that anymore.” I pulled my hand off the counter and put it behind me awkwardly. I felt like the girl with wet pants all over again.
She patted my arm with a soapy hand. “Not to worry. Mack would never let a mean old horse cause you to lose your water. You’ll be as safe as a bug in a rug with him there.” She handed me a wet dish. “Would you mind drying this off for me?” She gestured with her chin to a towel on the nearby counter.
I took the plate from her, frowning at it. “Don’t you have dishwashers in Oregon?”
“Sure, they have them all over, but we’re simple folk out here. I don’t mind doing things by hand. I find it relaxing.”
I rubbed the towel on the plate until it squeaked. Noticing my reflection in the white surface, I smiled. There was something to be said about doing a routine, basic task in the company of someone you enjoyed talking to. It was almost relaxing or meditative. Maeve had an easy way about her that made me feel like I could just be myself standing next to her here in this kitchen. Glancing at her profile, I wondered if she would totally hate me if I told her what Mack and I had done in Las Vegas. It made me sad to think that she might, which was silly because I’d be gone in just a day or two and then I’d never see her or Angus again. Or Mack.
My stomach clenched uncomfortably. Why did the thought of never seeing him again bring actual, physical pain? I should have been breathing a sigh of relief over it. No way would Bradley be okay with me being here, let alone spending time with a guy like Mack. My fiancé wasn’t stupid. He’d sense something was up right away. It was all part of his killer instinct … he could smell underlying emotion in others like a shark could smell a drop of blood in the water. It’s what made him such a successful lawyer; he always got to the bottom of things, even when the people he was up against did everything they could to keep them secret.
My guts churned with the realization that the chances of me keeping this whole mess from Bradley were very, very slim. I wondered if his feelings for me were strong enough to forgive me. I wondered how much I really cared, too, and that worried me more than anything else.
“In the cupboard over there, on your right,” Maeve said without looking up from her task.
I put the plate away, leaving the door open since another one was about to join it.
We stood in the kitchen doing dishes in companionable silence for another five minutes before the next comment floated out there in the air between us.
“So tell me about this research you’re doing, Andie.”
I glanced at her, but the expression on her face showed nothing but curiosity and dedication to the task of washing. She’d moved onto the serving dishes and silverware.
“Well, I was doing some research and I ran across … something that told me I might be related to a MacKenzie, so I thought I’d come out here and see if it was true.” My fingers trembled with the stress of giving her half-truths. She didn’t deserve to be lied to. She’d done nothing wrong.
“What kind of research was it, exactly?”
I decided a little more truth was in order. It was the only way I could keep on speaking; the lies were getting caught in my throat. “Well, actually, I’m getting married.”
She stopped scrubbing the pot she had in the sink before her and waited for my next words.
“I was applying for the marriage license and there was this document the courthouse came up with, so I decided before I got married, I’d come out and see what it was all about.” My heart rate had picked up, causing me to breathe faster. Any minute I was going to start sounding like I’d just run a mile if I didn’t get a hold of myself. Calm down, idiot!
Maeve’s hand moved in slow circles, round and round the bottom of the pot. “You’re getting married.”
“Yes. Back east. In just over
a week.”
“Have you been together long?” She tipped the pot over to scrub the sides and bottom.
“Not quite two years. Long enough.”
She looked at me briefly, a small smile on her lips. “Not that a person can have a timetable for something like that.”
“Oh, I do.” Now I was on firm ground. We’d moved away from talking about the MacKenzie clan and on to my lifeplan. Maeve seemed like a pretty down-to-earth person. I was sure she’d get where I was coming from.
She stopped scrubbing again and turned to face me. “Really? You have a timetable for love?”
“Well … sure. Kind of. I mean, I don’t have it on a calendar. Okay, maybe I do have it on a calendar but not in that way.” I was getting flustered trying to explain.
“I’m not judging, Andie, I’m just trying to understand.”
“No, I know that. It’s just hard to explain I guess. See, ever since I was young, I’ve had this plan.”
“Mmm-hmmm…” She nodded, rinsing off the pot.
“And in the plan I decided that I had to reach certain goals by the time I was twenty one and then twenty-seven and then twenty-nine and finally thirty-five.” I took the pot she’d rinsed and put it on the counter, using its support to dry the inside.
She chuckled. “You stopped the plan at thirty-five. Is that when you retire?”
“No,” I smiled back, glad she wasn’t mocking me too hard. “It’s when I’ll be done having children.”
“So what happens if you don’t meet one of your goals?”
“I don’t know. It hasn’t happened yet.” I grinned at her with a little personal pride shining through. “I don’t know why I’m so goal-oriented. Meeting goals makes me feel like a success. Like everything is going to be fine in my life.”
She soaped up several forks at the same time. “Was there a time in your life when things weren’t so fine?”
A loud ringing started in my ears. The pounding of my heart got so loud I worried she’d hear it. “Maybe when I was young things were a little crazy. But that was a long time ago.” I cleared my throat to get the frog out of it. I never thought or talked about my childhood with anyone. Ever.