Shine Not Burn (23 page)

Bradley’s family were cold fish in comparison.
 
They smiled but the warmth never made it to their eyes.
 
I’d perfected the same smile myself, and that thought scared me more than anything else. Was Ruby right?
 
Was Bradley a bad influence on me?

I shook my head, getting it out of the clouds.
 
I had to harden myself to their charms and not get comfortable here in their little love nest.
 
Mack himself was chock-full of flaws, and a pretty face meant nothing when you added it all up.
 
He’s obviously an asshole deep down.
 
He had to be.
 
I mean, what kind of guy gets a girl so drunk she marries him, and then abandons her in a hotel room in Vegas?
 
Not the kind of guy I want to be married to, that’s for sure.

Bradley was way better than Mack for marriage material.
 
He was driven at work, upwardly mobile, competitive, and a socializing machine.
 
Sometimes his schedule was even too full for me, but that was the price I had to pay to be with someone focused on moving up in the world and making a name for himself.
 
Bradley was perfect for me in almost every way.
 
No … every way.
 
He’s perfect for me in every single stinking way.

I ignored the self-doubt that kept banging on the door of my thoughts, insisting it be let in so it could have its say.
 
I moved back my chair so I could step out of the room to go call him.
 
I’d hear his voice, tell him my plan to stay another day, and everything would be fine.
 
I’d be back on track and focused on my goals.

Maeve put a big, thick apple pie down on the table, interrupting my inner dialogue and my exit.
 
“You can have your pie with or without vanilla ice cream.
 
I recommend
with
… I churned it myself this afternoon.”

I scowled at the dessert.
 
Damn you, apple pie.
 
Apple pie à la mode is my favorite dessert of all time.
 
I’d been planning on making the call and going back to my hotel until she’d set it down and started all that crazy talk about home made ice cream.
 
Who makes home made ice cream anymore?
 
This could be my last chance to ever have it.

Maeve frowned.
 
“You don’t like apple pie?”

My eyes bugged out, embarrassed I’d been caught staring daggers at her dessert.
 
“No!
 
I mean, yes!
 
I love apple pie.
 
Sorry … I was just thinking about how I don’t have time for a piece and have to go back to my hotel.”

She beamed.
 
“Of course you have time.
 
It’ll only take me a minute to scoop you out a piece.”

“She said she doesn’t have time, Ma.”
 
Mack looked only at his mother, not me.
 
It made me want to kick him under the table for some reason.
 
I had to tense my leg muscles to keep my foot from striking out at him.

She frowned at her son.
 
“Don’t be rude, Mack.
 
She’s our guest.
 
If she wants a piece of pie I’m going to make sure she gets it.”
 
Turning to me, she flipped her frown upside down.
 
“And besides, you’re welcome to stay here tonight.”
 
She paused to look at her husband, “Isn’t she Angus, sweetie?”

“Well, of course she is.
 
We have plenty of room here for family.”
 
He nodded once, as if it was a done deal.

My face flushed with the idea of sleeping under the same roof as Mack.
 
I’d done that once before and look where it had gotten me.
 
“No, I couldn’t do that, but thank you so much for the offer.
 
I have a … phone meeting later.
 
I have to get back to my hotel for it.”
 
Hopefully they wouldn’t ask me what time the meeting was since I had zero clue what time it was now.

“We have phones here,” said Angus.
 
He’d put his fork down and was staring at me, some of his good humor gone.

“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 completely 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.