Ian smiles. “You think so?”
“Yeah. I probably shouldn’t say that to you because you’ll get really stuck-up, but I just had to anyway. I’m tired of thinking it and not saying it out loud.”
He laughs. “Head injuries are kind of crazy sometimes.”
“So are dreams.” Visions of him in a tux standing at the end of an aisle assail my brain. “You think you’ll ever get married?” I feel like I’m drunk. There is no filter between my thoughts and my mouth. I probably should care, but I don’t. I’m just dreaming anyway. He’ll never know.
“Yeah, someday. I’d like to.” He glances at me and then he’s back to being a responsible driver. “I just need to find the right girl.”
“It’s not Ginny,” I say.
“No, definitely not her.”
“Is it The Banana?”
“The Banana?” He looks at me and frowns. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay. Don’t I look okay?”
“Not really.”
“Rude.”
“You just asked me if I’m going to marry a banana. I think you have a skull fracture. You’d better not die on me.”
“No, I asked you if you liked that girl, that banana girl at the diner.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus. “I forget her full name. Hannabelle Lecter or something.”
He barks out a laugh. “Hannah? Are you talking about Hannah Banana?”
“Yeah, that’s her. Girl with the chicken-fat yellow haystack on her head.”
Ian’s laughing too hard to respond.
“Is that a no?” I smile through my pain, opening my eyes again. His laughter is too infectious not to. He’s so pretty.
“That’s a definite no,” he says. “No times a hundred. I’ve never touched her and never will.”
“She says you’ve been getting it on.” I keep smiling because I know instinctively that this will make him insane. I like seeing Ian go crazy.
He stops laughing. “That’s not funny.”
“Hey, that’s what she’s telling everyone. I didn’t make it up. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“You finally got that right.”
“Got what right?” I wince as we hit a big bump and my head bounces against the seat.
“That expression. And don’t worry. I’m not going to shoot the messenger, even though she shot me.” He gives me a pointed look. I think it’s supposed to make me feel guilty, but it doesn’t. It makes me happy.
I grin. “I didn’t shoot you, fool. Karma shot you.” I’m so happy right now I could pee my pants again and not even care.
“Don’t go to sleep,” he says, making me realize I’m staring at the inside of my eyelids again.
“I need to rest. I don’t want to miss the party.”
“What party?”
“Boog’s party.” I’m going to look extra hot at this party with my boob-guns on. I’m a fembot, and I’d be willing to bet they don’t get fembots in Baker City that often.
“You aren’t going to Boog’s party or anyone else’s party for that matter. You’re going to the hospital.”
“Bull honkey.”
He laughs. “We’ll see.”
“Yeah, we will,” I say. And then that’s the last thing I remember of that car ride or that conversation. Everything goes black and the warmth comes in and swallows me up whole.
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?”
“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?”
She smiles vaguely. “A couple times. With Mack.”
“Okay, then. So you know that you can sometimes have shit happen and you just need to deal with it.”
“So what happened?”
“Didn’t Ian tell you?”
“No. He got mad at Mack and Angus and stormed off before they got the whole story from him.”
“Probably because you guys were accusing him of something he didn’t do.” I try to cross my arms over my chest but the IV in my arm gets in the way. I stare down at it, and it reminds me of a leash. “Someone needs to get this junk off me so I can leave.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have to go find Ian, of course.”
“Why?”
“Because!” Now that I think about it for a split second, I realize I don’t have any reason to go find him. But I do have a reason for getting back to his house soon. Poor little Candy. What if she’s starving? She needs me! “I have responsibilities back at the ranch.”
Andie laughs.
“That’s not funny. I’m serious.” I lift my chin a little. It just so happens I have a newborn to take care of, not that it’s any of her business. Or maybe it is, but now I’m too mad to tell her about it.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What are your responsibilities? Are you in charge of wardrobe selection?”
“No.” Her statement makes zero sense. I’m staring at her like she’s stupid.
“Do you need to do someone’s hair?”
“No. Why are you saying that?” I’m pretty sure she’s mocking me right now, but that’s not something that Andie would ever do before. It makes my chest hurt to think she’s doing it now.
She shrugs. “I’m just trying to figure out what you could possibly need to do back home, that’s all.”
I feel like crying. “For your information, I’m needed for a lot of things, not just color-matching and hair.” Now I am, anyway. Thanks to Ian. My heart fills with warmth just thinking about what he did for me today. He made me a cow momma.
Andie’s face falls. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did. You meant it exactly like that.” I press the red button on a wire looped around the edge of my bed.
“What are you doing?” she asks as I swing my legs over to the opposite side of the bed and move to the edge of it.
“I’m leaving.”
“What do you mean, yo
u’re leaving?”
“Where’s my phone?” I ask, looking around.
“In a plastic bag in your top drawer over there.” She points to the side table next to my left leg.
I stand and get into the drawer, finding my phone. When I turn it on, I’m relieved to find that it still has a charge. I send off a quick text.
“Who are you calling?” Andie asks.
“I’m not calling anyone. I’m texting.” My clothes are in the bag too, but I can’t very well wear the jeans. They smell rancid. I keep them in the bag with the rest of the stuff, and send another text.
“Who are you texting?”
Before I can decide how to answer her, I get a response.
Be there in a few. I’m in town. What size are you?
I text him back the details and then sit on the bed, looking over my shoulder at Andie. “Do you have a brush?” I ask.
“Sure.” She pulls one out of her purse and hands it to me. “What’s going on?”
I take my time brushing my hair, not saying anything. I need to figure out how I’m going to handle this situation without making Andie freak out. She has the baby to think of and I don’t need her worrying about me. I can handle this, no problem.
The nurse comes in as I’m stalling for time. She’s not the same one who was taking care of Andie but she has the same expression on her face. Why do all nurses act like they hate me?
“Did you need something?” she says, her mouth all twisted up and wrinkly when she’s done talking and waiting for my answer.
I hold up my arm so she can see the IV needle. “Yes. I need you to take this out.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that right now.”
I give her a tight smile. “Either you do it or I will.”
She glares at me. “The doctor is the one who gives the orders around here, missy, and he says you need the fluids and the meds.” She looks up at the clear bag hanging above me. “When that’s done, we’ll come back and take a look.”
“Wrong-o, Nurse Ratched.” I pull at the tape on my arm, wincing when it yanks a few of my fuzzy armhairs out. “I say I’m done, so I’m done. My body, my decision.”
Andie stands and leans over, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Sweetie, maybe you should wait.”