Chapter Ten
NURSE RATCHED WON’T LET ME in the room. She’s ordered me to go wait in the little room down the hall with Mack’s parents, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to listen to her and abandon my friend. Andie needs me close by. What if she yells my name and I’m not there to hear it? What if she needs hot water and towels and Nurse Ratched is out on a smoke break?
“What’re you doing out here?” Ian asks, coming up behind me.
I have my ear pressed to the door. “Shhh! I’m listening for screams.”
“Why don’t you just go inside?”
I stand up and turn to face him, since he’s determined to ruin this moment for me. “That bitch nurse won’t let me in there, that’s why.”
“Oh. Well, why don’t you go down to the waiting room with everyone else?”
“Because I’m not everyone else. I’m Auntie Candice, and Andie needs me here.” I go back to pressing my ear against the door. “Actually, she needs me in there, but Nurse Ratched is exercising her tiny speck of power and keeping me out.”
I stiffen as I hear Andie moan. I think it was a moan. Either that or a very long burp.
“What was that?” Ian asks in a hushed tone.
“That’s my friend needing me.” My pulse is going nuts. I can’t stand still any longer. “I’m going in there.” My hand slides down to the handle.
Ian grabs my arm. “Better not.”
Jerking my arm away, I face him again. “What is your problem, Ian? I need to be with her!”
“No, actually, you should probably stay out here.”
For once he actually looks serious. It kind of deflates my emotional bubble a little. “Give me one good reason why.”
“Because. Childbirth is a special moment between husband and wife. Having a whole crowd of family in there might not be what they want, and you should do what they want, not what you want.”
My heart hurts at his words. I cross my arms over my chest without conscious thought. “I’m not a crowd. I’m just me. One person. And I know Andie would want me in there.”
He laughs. “You are not just one person, Candice. You’re a whole tornado of a person. And if Andie wants you, I’m sure they’ll come get you. Maybe sometimes she just wants Mack and no one else, and there’s nothing wrong with that. It doesn’t mean she loves you any less.”
I narrow my eyes at him, suppressing the spark of happiness that comes when he actually speaks my name. I hate to admit it, but he might have a point. I’ve never been married, but if I ever am, I want it to be like he describes. But instead of telling him that, I focus on the most interesting part of his little lecture. The part where he describes me as a tornado.
“I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or criticizing me when you call me a force of nature.”
Before he can respond, the door opens behind me and someone bumps into my back.
“Hey!” I exclaim, turning around so I can see my abuser. “Watch it.”
“I told you to go wait in the waiting room,” says the mean nurse. “You’re in the way here.”
I open my mouth to let her have it, but my voice is cut off when Ian wraps his arm around my waist, pulls me to his side, and plants his lips on my cheek, letting out a loud smooching sound.
I cringe away from him, not because I don’t like it but because it’s so unexpected. Who is this person and why does he look so happy?
“I’ll get rid of her for ya,” he says, when he finally stops.
“Good. We’ll come get you when she’s ready. It could be hours, though, so don’t expect anything soon.”
I’m standing there like an observer, watching a television show or something. Words have failed me. I’m a tornado being kissed by a person with dual personalities.
“Come on, darlin’, let’s go read some magazines.” Ian is guiding me down the hallway.
“But I don’t want to read any magazines.”
“Okay, then you can watch me read magazines.”
“I don’t want to watch you read magazines. And I don’t want you to kiss me anymore, either.”
“Could-a fooled me.” He’s smiling, obviously very proud of himself.
I shove him in the ribs with my elbow, detaching him from my waist. “You’re such a jerk.” It’s like he knows he sends my heart racing with every touch, with every stupid joke. I hate that he has me in such a mess. This was supposed to be a fun fling at first, and then it was supposed to be nothing at all. I don’t kiss hunters. So why do his lips keep pressing against me? And why haven’t I slapped him for it yet?
“Here.” Ian grabs a book off the table as we walk into the waiting room. “Some light reading for ya.”
I look down at the heavy volume in my hand. “The King James Bible. Oh goody.” Looking around the room, I realize it’s too quiet. All the chairs are empty and the television in the corner is off. “Where are your parents?”
“Who knows? Maybe getting coffee or something.”
Sitting down in a not-very-comfortable plastic chair, I crack the well-worn book open to a random page. Might as well brush up on my psalms or whatever.
“You should read it,” he says. “You could learn a lot from it.” He leans back in a chair a couple down from mine, picking up a tattered magazine and resting it on his leg.
“Oh yeah?” I read out loud from the page in front of me. “No one whose testicles are crushed or whose male organ is cut off shall enter the assembly of the Lord.” I look over at Ian. “Awww, no eunuchs allowed in Heaven. Bummer.” Dropping my gaze to his crotch, I add, “Maybe you should start wearing a cup, just in case.”
He puts his hand over his jewels and turns his legs away from me, his expression going worried. “Just in case, what?”
I shrug. “Just in case you get your testicles kicked by a crazy bull or whatever. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on Heaven just because you have crushed nuts.”
He leans over and snatches the book out of my hands. “That’s enough Bible reading for you, lady.” He tosses it down on the table out of my reach.
I laugh. “Hey! I was enjoying that. I was just about to learn the rules about bastards.”
“Bastards?” He frowns, looking over at the book.
He probably thinks I’m making this up, but I’m not. It was right there in black and white. “Yeah, and ten generations after the bastard too. They can’t get into Heaven either, apparently. Bummer for them.”
He shakes his head at me like he can’t believe what I’m saying. I don’t see what the big deal is. I just read it from the book that he gave me. Honestly, I’ve never read any Bible from cover to cover. Guess it was just my luck I found the testicle passage. I’m thinking I should read it more often if it’s going to be that entertaining. I’ve tried before but I always fall asleep at the part where it starts talking about Adam and all his grandsons. He had a lot of them.
“You go to church back East?” he asks.
I shake my head, wondering how weird this conversation is about to get. “Nope.”
“Me neither.”
I nod. This is so not interesting to me. Changing the subject seems like a great idea. “So … party this weekend at Boog’s eh?”
“I’m not going. You’re not going. No one’s going.”
“Of course we are. Ginny wants me to meet all your friends.”
“Too bad.”
I smile evilly. “Too bad for you, you mean. You owe me.”
He gives me a pained expression. “You can’t be serious.”
“Of course I can.” I sit up straight and smile. “I’m really looking forward to it, actually.” Checking my nails. “And since I saved your butt with your ex, you have to bring me.”
He bends over and covers his face with his hands while he leans his elbows on his knees. I can’t tell if he’s really sad, really angry, or just really tired. Maybe he’s all three.
“So what’s the deal with you and her?” I ask, sensing weakness to be capitalized on. “You were going to get married right?”
Ian looks up, letting his hands drop away. He looks around the room, maybe checking to see if we’re alone, which we still are. It makes me wonder where all of Andie’s friends are. Surely she has some around this town, so where are they?
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“In general or specifically with me?” This is waaay more interesting than crushed testicles and bastards being turned away at the pearly gates. No way am I’m letting him off the hook that easy.
“Both. Neither.”
Time to go for the throat. That’ll get this party started. “I heard she cheated on you with Mack.”
He lets out a loud stream of air and leans back in his chair. “You heard wrong.”
“I don’t think so. I heard she made the major move on him when you came back from Vegas.” I nod for emphasis, like I’m all hooked into the town grapevine.
He’s staring off into the distance as he responds. “It wasn’t a major move. It was a minor move that went nowhere.”
“Seems like it went somewhere to me. It ended your marriage.”
“There was no marriage.” He looks at me. “No wedding, no marriage.”
“Okay, so it ended everything.”
He smiles, but it’s not the happy kind of smile. “You can say that again.”
“Okay, so it ended everything.”
Closing his eyes, he shakes his head slowly. “You are something, you know that?”
“Something awesome. Yeah, I know.” I move over to the chair next to him, but he doesn’t budge. I take that as an invitation to pry deeper. Crossing my legs, I let my top foot bounce a little, casually showing off my cute boots to distract him from realizing he’s giving me the goods. “So, how long did you date? … Before the break-up I mean?”
“Years. Since junior high. Too long.”
“Too long?”
“Yeah. Too long. We got too comfortable with each other. Started overlooking things, I guess.” He shrugs and looks away.
“Like what kind of things?”
He pauses and turns to stare at me for a few seconds. “You sure are nosey.”
I wiggle my foot to distract him from resisting me. Wiggle, wiggle … wiggle, wiggle… He looks down at my fur lining and frowns.
“Nosey? More like bored.” I swat him lightly on the arm with the back of my hand. “Come on. We’re going to be waiting for hours and hours. Might as well tell me all your innermost secrets and get it over with. I won’t rest until I’ve plumbed the depths of Ian.”
He laughs, looking back up at me. “Do you have any idea how wrong that sounds?”
I wave his silliness away. “Oh poo. Admit it. You’re impressed with my poetic expressions.”
He laughs. “If that’s poetry, I’m Deputy Dog.”
“What’s that? Your nickname?”
He closes his eyes and leans his head back on the wall. “I’m taking a nap. Don’t bother me.”
I stare at the magazines on the low table in front of us. There’s one featuring NASCAR, one about corvettes, and one covered in motorcycles. Who stocks this place with reading material, anyway? Jeff Gordon? Talk about lame. No way can I abandon my line of questioning when this is all I have to look forward to.
“So, what did you mean when you said you started overlooking things? Or was it her that started overlooking things?”
He doesn’t respond to I keep prompting.
“What did she overlook? Was it your personal hygiene problems? Your lack of social graces? Your terrible taste in hatwear?”
He remains still, as if he can’t even hear me, and for a moment I think I’m going to have to get pushy to get my answers, but then he surprises me.
“No, it wasn’t any of that. And it was both of us, I guess, not just her or me.”
“What are some things you overlooked?” I ask. I’m on the edge of my seat, knowing I’m about to get some juicy stuff.
“I don’t know.”
“Sure you do. Tell me. I swear I’ll keep your secrets.”
He opens one eye and stares at me with it. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Of course. My brain is a steel trap. Nothing gets out until I release it, and I don’t release things unless I have permission.”
“You? You’re the grand repository of secrets?” He closes his eye and then he kind of snorts. I think it was a snort. Or maybe he has allergies.
“Exactly. That’s my brain. So tell me.”
He sighs loudly and lets his head wobble from left to right a few times before he starts talking again.
“Well, I guess I overlooked the fact that she wasn’t entirely happy with having me as a husband.”
“That’s kind of a big one.”
He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. “You’re telling me.”
“What else?” I prompt. I’ve got him on a roll now.
“She overlooked the fact that I didn’t like Hawaii.” He sounds particularly bitter about that one, especially when he scowls at the ceiling.
I try to figure out how Hawaii could be connected, but I give up pretty quickly. I don’t want him falling asleep on me while I try to decode his messages. “Um … confusing?”
He talks and sighs at the same time. “She wanted to go to Hawaii for a honeymoon. I had no interest in that, but it didn’t matter. We did whatever Ginny wanted to do, always. She was the leader of the show.”
“There always has to be a leader, you know,” I say, knowing I could never be content to follow some guy around like a lap dog. That’s why I’m never going to Abu Dhabi. If I had to walk five paces behind some guy all day, I’d for sure be giving him flat tires all the time on purpose. That would probably end in divorce or a public flogging or a stoning or something. Nah. I’m definitely not cut out for that following mindlessly stuff. Plus I’d have to wear one of those all over body robes and cover up my gorgeous hair and adorable outfits. Talk about a waste of effort.
“Yeah, I get that,” Ian says, sitting up in his chair a little but still slouching, “but it doesn’t always have to be the same person being out front, you know?” He looks at me. “It shouldn’t always be the same person. Once in a while you gotta let the other person call the shots, have the final say. Otherwise …” he shrugs, “…they get lost.”
“What do you mean, they get lost?”
Now he’s gesturing with his hands as he speaks. It’s like he has an invisible audience out in the waiting room in front of us, but it’s still just me in here. I can’t believe how animated he’s become.
“See, being the decision maker puts you out front and the other person behind, right? And some people are okay with being back there in the shadows, but most people aren’t. They need some time to shine too. But you put someone who doesn’t want to be in the shadows too much, they start to lose a part of themselves.” His face twists into something bitter. “I lost myself somewhere along the way with Ginny and I don’t know that I’ll ever get him back.”
“Wow. That sounds massively depressing.”
He laughs once as he stares at the ground. “Tell me about it.” He rubs his hands together, as if he’s trying to get a cramp out of his muscles that will never go away.
I can’t believe a big, strong, smart guy like him is so messed up over something so not a big deal. People break up all the time. Since when does it mean someone died?
I’m so disappointed in his pee-poor attitude. Why has everyone let him go on like this for so long? I can’t stop my judgment from flying out of my mouth. “It also sounds like a bunch of bull crap to me.”
His head twists sharply to the left so he can glare at me.
“How long has it been?” I ask, already knowing the answer. “Three years or so? I mean, come on … six months is the longest anyone would need to get over that. It’s not like anyone died or anything.”
His jaw that was slowly falling open as I spoke, slaps shut. Then he says, “Are you kidding me?”
“No, why would I do that? Obviously you two weren’t meant to be together. Your breakup was a good thing. Seriously. You’ve been hosting this pity party for waaaay too long, Ian. Time to cowboy up and stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
He leans way back away from me. “You know what? You can just shut up right now. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“I can see that, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t shut up about it.” He stands, heading for the door.
“Running away when things get difficult?” I ask, challenging him.
“More like getting away from a damn harpy who doesn’t know when to mind her own business.”
When he’s almost to the exit, I sigh loudly so he’ll hear. “Good thing Ginny got rid of you when she did, I guess. No one wants a big cry baby for a husband anyway.”
He spins around and faces me. “Did you just call me a cry baby?”
I give him my very best innocent look and bat my eyelashes a few times for extra effect. “Yes, I did. What do you call a guy who has the good fortune of getting out of a big mistake before it’s an even bigger mistake and then makes everyone miserable about it for three years? A hero? I don’t think so. More like a whiney-baby.”
His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses. It’s possible he’s considering putting a hole through the wall with his fist.
I hold up my hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”
He puts his hands on his hips. “That’s not what that expression means,” he says, his teeth pressed together.
“Sure it is. I’m giving you the message that it’s time for you to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re getting all cranky after hearing my message, and I’m just saying … don’t be hatin’ on me because I’m just telling you the things people are saying all over town about you.”
He takes a step towards me, his anger falling away to something else. Worry maybe? Fear? Curiosity?
“Are you serious?” he asks. “Who’s saying that about me?”
I snort. “Please. Who’s not saying it would be an easier question to answer.” I actually have no idea if anyone is saying anything about Ian, but does that stop me? No. He’s so much cuter when he’s not feeling sorry for himself. Maybe he’s been acting like a butthead for three years because no one’s kicked him in the pants yet. He sure needs a kick in the pants, that much is obvious.
Surprisingly, he comes back and sits down next to me. “You need to tell me who’s been flapping their lips about me and Ginny.”
“No, I don’t.” I smile and point to my head. “Steel trap, remember?”
“Screw your steel trap.” He stares at me intensely.
I grin because I cannot help it. He’s positively adorable when he’s mad. “Do you have any idea how wrong that sounds?”
“How wrong what sounds?”
“That you want to screw my steel trap.”
He leans back, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as his body goes slack. “I didn’t say that.”
I shrug and check my nails again. “If that’s what you want to tell people. I’ll back you up.”
“You’ll back me up.” He says it like a statement. I can tell he’s looking at me, but I don’t return his gaze. The atmosphere has suddenly gone … warm.
“That’s what I said.” I cross my legs and play with the furry top of my awesome boot, still not looking at him.
“I think you would,” he says, sounding like he’s actually admiring me.
I look over at him to see if he’s messing with me. My heart does what can only be termed a pitter-patter. “You think I would, what?”
“Back me up. Have my back. If I needed you to, I mean.”
I picture Ian needing a helping hand and there’s just no question which side of the line I’d be on. He’s Andie’s brother now. “Hell yeah, I would. You’re practically family.” I shrug and go back to fiddling with my boot. “Family gets automatic, unquestioned back-up at any time. That’s my rule.”
He says nothing for a little while and then comes out with, “I like your rule.”
I look at him and wink. “I know you do.” I have no idea what that means. I just have this desire to flirt with him that apparently knows no bounds. I’m not even making sense anymore. This situation is so confusing. Floor and ceiling, feel free to change positions because at this point I’m not going to know the difference.
He laughs has he rolls his eyes. “Girl, you are something else.”
The mood in the room has gone from silly, to sad, to tense, to explosive and back to happy and relaxed, with almost no effort on my part. It’s like a circus but without clowns or animals or gymnasts or any of that other stuff. The only explanation is Ian. It’s all his fault. He sure is a moody butthead. Why that makes him even more attractive to me than he was before, I have no idea, but there’s no denying it does. I guess even though I’m nearing thirty and should know better, I still find bad boys enough of a challenge that I can’t walk away. And Ian is most definitely a bad boy.
I stare at him, taking in his lean, muscular form, his chiseled from stone good looks, his wind-burned cheeks, his gorgeous green eyes, and his stupid blue hat that does not match his complexion at all, knowing he would give me a serious run for my money if I were interested in that kind of thing with him. How this man is not yet married is some kind of miracle. The girls in Baker City have got to be stupid. Or maybe they don’t like hunters either.
The thought sparks an idea in my steel trap of a mind. Maybe if I ask him really nicely, he’ll stop shooting animals. Then he could find a new woman and be happy again. Andie’s brother-in-law should be happy. Then she’ll be happy and Mack will be happy and the whole damn world will be happy. I could leave for Florida knowing I’ve left the world here a better place. I sigh with bliss, thinking this must be what Mother Theresa felt like.
“What would it take to convince you to stop hunting animals?” I ask, my plan already in motion.
He stares at me for a long time before he finally answers. “A lot more than you can afford to give, believe me.”
I just smile at him, knowing my battle is almost half won already. This man has no idea what he’s in for.