Shine Not Burn Read online

  “You’re welcome. Thank you for flying Delta. Have a pleasant trip.” He looked past me to the person next in line, so I took the hint and moved to the side.

  Grabbing our carry-ons, we left for the security area, Candice and Kelly already making plans for our first night in Vegas. I heard something about slots and a night club before trying unsuccessfully to block out the rest. I let out a long sigh, realizing as each part of their plan was revealed that I had two days of adult babysitting to look forward to. It was no big deal, though. I’d had lots of practice in college being their roommate. I’d always been the responsible one, the dedicated driver, the girl who held their hair while they barfed over the toilet, the one who dispensed tissues and served up ice cream when boyfriends made them cry. Two days in Vegas, running after my best friends and keeping them out of the kind of trouble that follows a person home. How hard could it be? I had four years of practice at the University of Florida. This would be a piece of cake.

  My phone buzzed after I went through security, and I read the text on the screen while we walked to our gate. The words glowing out at me didn’t make the outlook for my trip any brighter. I considered turning around and dealing with the problem now so I could get it all over with, thinking I could hook up with my friends later. This was seriously going to ruin the trip for me.

  “What’s wrong, party pooper?” asked Candice, coming up beside me and putting her arm across my shoulders. She’s normally only two inches taller than me, but with her stilettos, she had me by half a head easy. I’d worn lower heels today so I could be comfortable for the trip. It was more practical, and I was nothing if not that. Candice, on the other hand, abhorred practicality. She considered it the devil’s influence and the road to a truly boring life.

  I gritted my teeth, trying to contain my anger, trying not to let Luke ruin our bon voyage. “It’s nothing,” I said, acting nonchalant about it. “Just Luke.” I went to slip my phone into the outer pocket of my purse, but Candice snatched it away from me.

  “Hey!” I protested, reaching for it.

  She handed it over to Kelly, keeping her grip tight on my shoulders. “Just relax. We’re here to help.”

  “Oh my pink granny panties, did he actually just send this to you in a text? What a total douchebag McGee.” She looked at me with her patented WTF expression. “Seriously, Andie, you so need to kick him in the balls when you get back.”

  “Whatsit say?” asked Candice, letting go of me and reaching for the phone.

  “Read it and weep.” Kelly gave me a pity frown as she handed the phone to Candice.

  Two seconds later, Candice was typing something out on it.

  “No!” I said, reaching for it. “Don’t!”

  “Too late! Too late!” she sang, dancing around in a small circle, holding the phone above her head.

  I jumped up and snatched it away from her so I could read the very short conversation.

  Luke: I can’t believe you’re going. Have a nice life.

  Andi’s phone: Have a nice life yourself, assbag.

  “Wow. Thanks, Candice. That was awesome.” My thumb hovered over the keys, ready to type out an explanation. An apology. Something.

  Candice grabbed me by the arm and dragged me over to a group of empty seats inside our boarding area. “Listen to me, Andie. Before you send him another text, consider this...”

  I sat down letting out a huff of frustration. I had already reached my vacation destination. Welcome to Sucksville! Next stop: Shit City!

  Candice continued. “Luke’s been sucking the life out of you for three whole years. Three years! And in all that time, what has he done, other than annoy the crap out of your best friends and make you cry? Huh? What has he done to deserve your undying loyalty? I don’t get it.”

  “He’s not that bad,” I said, feeling a little guilty as I said it. My grandmother had always told me even little white lies were bad lies.

  “Not that bad? Yeah, right. What did he get you for Valentine’s Day this year? Oh yeeeaaah, that’s right! A gift certificate towards liposuction! Wasn’t that thoughtful.” She rolled her eyes and threw up a hand for emphasis.

  “Not,” interjected Kelly.

  “He knows I don’t like my love handles on the top of my butt,” I said, knowing as the words left my lips how incredibly lame I sounded. Why do I keep allowing this stuff to happen? How can I call myself a strong intelligent woman when I act like a complete loser with men?

  “Right. Whatever.” Candice was disgusted. “Talk about keeping a woman down. And what did he do the last time you went out of town for work? Oh, yeah. I remember now! He made out with his secretary at the office party!” She threw both her hands up and let them fall to slap the top of her thighs.

  “He was drunk. They were both drunk. He told me about it, so it’s not like he was hiding it.” I remembered the sharp pain of humiliation over that one. It came back full force every time I thought about it, which was way too often.

  Kelly sat down on my other side. “Please stop making excuses for that shitheel, would you? He confessed because everyone in the entire firm saw it, and he knew you were going to find out sooner or later.” She put her arm around me and squeezed. “He’s a crap boyfriend and a crap guy in general. Please just let him go and move on. Please, please don’t go back to him. He’s offering you a golden opportunity right now.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’re marrying Matty the mortician next week.”

  “Yes, well, if you recall, I kissed a lot of hairy, warty toads before I found my prince.”

  “Yeah. Remember Bruno from Italy?” asked Candice, giggling.

  “How could I forget?” I asked, smiling too. Misery loves company. “Bruno, the one-balled wonder.”

  “Hey, he can’t help it that he’s missing a testicle,” said Kelly, trying really hard to be offended but not quite hitting the mark.

  “Uh, yeah he can, when he’s the one who made it fall off,” said Candice, snorting.

  Kelly sighed with exaggerated patience. “It didn’t fall off, okay? I’ve told you a hundred times, Candice, he had it surgically removed.”

  I couldn’t stop smiling despite being pissed off about that stupid text and the idea that the first thing I’d have to do when I got back would be to pack up his crap and deliver it to his apartment … although it would be nice to get my closet back. “And why exactly did Bruno have his own testicle surgically removed?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know the answer.

  Kelly shrugged. “I guess he had too much testosterone or something.”

  Candice snorted again, bending over a little with the giggles that were coming more uncontrollably now.

  I sat back in my seat and crossed one leg over the other. “I thought he injected himself in the ball sack with some black market steroids and caused an infection down there that made one of them shrivel up and fall off.”

  Candice was laughing loudly now, her guffaws sprinkled liberally with very unattractive pig-snorts.

  “Shut up, Andie. The guy almost died. You shouldn’t be making fun of him.” Kelly pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.

  I reached over and pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Poor old one-ball. He deserves our pity not our mockery.”

  I looked over at Candice and winked. She had to look away to contain herself.

  A voice came over the loudspeaker: “Delta Flight eighty-seven to Las Vegas now boarding business class passengers only. Business class passengers only.”

  Candice and Kelly jumped up, Bruno One-Ball a distant memory.

  “That’s us,” said Candice, picking up her Louis Vuitton make-up case. “Business class, here we come.” She tiptoed over to the ticket counter, boarding pass out and big smile on.

  “Seriously,” said Kelly as we walked over to join our friend who was openly flirting with a man in a shiny silver suit, “you need to just let Luke go, at least during this trip. You need to be one hundred percent focused on h
aving fun and enjoying this girl-time together. After I’m married and then have kids, I’m not sure I’ll ever have time to do it again, at least until I’m like sixty.”

  I nodded. “I know. I’ll just deal with him when I get back.” The business of breaking up. And after a three year investment of time and serious future plan-making on my part, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  “That’s my girl,” she said, hugging me with one arm. “Come on. Let’s go drink all the vodka on the plane.”

  “Didn’t you promise Samuel the ticket guy you wouldn’t do that?” I said, handing the attendant my boarding card and moving to the passageway that would bring us to the plane.

  “Nope. I didn’t make any promises.” She pulled my arm and tugged me along. “Promises are only promises if you say the word promise.”

  “I think it’s the intent that matters, not the words.” My feet dragged, my brain definitely not agreeing that Las Vegas was a good idea right now.

  “You are such a lawyer sometimes,” she said, frustrated with me. She jerked my arm. “No more lawyering. From this moment until the point that you get off the plane here in West Palm on our way home, you will not be a lawyer.” She turned and faced me, standing in the doorway of the plane. “Promise me. Say the word. Promise you won’t act like a lawyer the entire time we’re gone.”

  I sighed heavily, watching the crowd of economy-class passengers coming down the gangway behind us. Kelly’s stubborn. She’d stay there all day and make everyone wait until she got her way.

  “Fine. I promise. Andie the lawyer is staying behind in the airport.” My shoulders sagged in defeat.

  “Weeeee!” she squealed, taking me into a brief but strong hug. “Andie the party girl is now on board, airplane people.” She smiled as she stepped into the front of the plane, looking out over the seats in business class. “Now someone show us to the vodka.” She left me standing there, taking a seat next to Candice. They both squealed together like teenagers.

  I followed along slowly, not looking forward to getting reacquainted with Andie the party girl. I’d left her behind in college and hadn’t seen her in a long, long while. Andie the party girl did not fit into my plans of making partner, getting married, and having two point five kids by the time I’m thirty-five.

  Chapter Three

  IAN MACKENZIE SADDLED UP ONE of his father’s quarter horses and took off down the trail that would lead him to the back part of the far pasture. His older brother Gavin, otherwise known as Mack, was working there. The MacKenzies had a big herd that needed to be moved to higher ground because of some forecasted heavy rains, but it had to be done slowly. They didn’t want the cattle to burn off too much weight before being sold by the pound. Loss of a single pound per head could mean the difference between feast and famine on the MacKenzie ranch.

  Thirty minutes later, his older brother’s musical whistling cued him in to where he was, just behind a large rock outcropping, under some tall trees. Mack had gotten farther in his mission to move the cattle, and the ride had taken Ian much longer than he’d anticipated. He allowed his horse to pick its way around the scrub brush and larger rocks, its sturdy legs and muscular frame well adapted to the area’s rugged terrain.

  “Yo, Mack!” Ian called out, making sure to announce himself so he wouldn’t spook his brother or his brother’s horse.

  The whistling stopped abruptly. “Yo, Ian,” came the response, albeit in a decidedly less enthusiastic tone.

  Ian rode around the side of the large barrier, finding his brother sitting in the saddle and staring out over the gorgeous valley below, his reins loosely wrapped around the saddle horn. His leather chaps that he wore over his jeans looked as old as the hills themselves. Ian made a mental note to buy his brother new ones for his birthday.

  “I’ll never get tired of that view,” said Mack, reaching up to rub his sweaty head by wiggling his cream-colored cowboy hat around, his longish dark brown hair curling up at the nape of his neck. The strong muscles of his arm flexed and moved, calling attention to the deep tan he’d acquired from working without his flannel shirt on. “Why would anyone ever want to live anywhere else?” He abandoned the head scratching and rested his hand on his thigh. Turning to his younger brother, he gave him the look that used to make Ian beg for forgiveness when they were younger.

  Ian breathed out a sigh of annoyance. “Some people find other things to live for besides ranching and carrying on old and tired traditions.”

  Mack turned more fully to face his brother, his glowing, light blue eyes shining out from under his hat. This was the classic-old-West-cowboy-meets-GQ-model look that always got the girls in town all hot and bothered. Ian had spent a lifetime watching his brother duck and run from almost all of them. It was a damn shame, as far as he was concerned, that his brother was not only damn ornery but way too picky to boot. None of the girls in Baker City had measured up so far, and he’d pretty much run out of candidates. Even Hannah Pierce who’d been circling his brother’s ankles and making herself a complete nuisance since junior high wasn’t really in the running, much as she might like to think she was.

  “Old and tired traditions?” Mack scowled. “Come on, Ian, that’s not fair. Those traditions put you through school, not to mention set you up to get married to Ginny in style, just like she always wanted.” He faced the beautiful view again and adjusted his seat in the saddle, the leather creaking as it moved. Reaching down to gather up his reins in his gloved hand, he began whistling again, doing a unique rendition of the song I’m Movin’ On by Rascal Flatts.

  Ian knew the tune well. Their mother had been playing it everyday at home, wallowing in the sadness of losing her younger boy to the big city. Ian shook his head. Portland, Oregon was as small-town as a big city could possibly be, but his whole family was acting like he was going to the Big Apple never to be seen again. He and his soon-to-be wife Ginny had already promised to visit on every major holiday and two weeks during Christmas, but it hadn’t done anything to ease his mother’s suffering. All she could talk about was the grandchild who didn’t exist yet that she’d almost never see.

  “I bought you a ticket today,” said Ian. “I came to tell you so you can pack and get in the shower before we leave for Boise. Plane takes off at four so we have to be there by three, no later.”

  “I told you, I’m not goin’. Gotta get the herd moved before next week.”

  “Boog already said he’d do it, and he owes you anyway, so just let him. And I need you, besides. You can take a break for once. You haven’t had a vacation in ten years.”

  Mack urged his horse forward with a squeeze of his legs and a clicking sound inside his cheek. “You need me? In Vegas? Vacation? Yeah right, that’ll be the day.” The horse moved past the tree and along a grassy area below a tall hill - a mere bump compared to the mountains in the distance.

  Ian gave his horse a light spurring, causing it to leap forward and cut his brother’s mount off.

  Mack scowled. “Cut it out, Ee. You know I don’t have time to play with you right now. Stop acting like a fool.”

  Ian smiled, whirling his horse around so he could crowd his brother and get him to react. This cold indifference wasn’t getting him anywhere. A challenge was the only way to get his brother to wake up and get involved in his life while he was still living it in Baker City. Ian saw this bachelor party in Vegas as Mack’s last chance to leave this town and see a little bit of the world before he turned into a hermit, just like their father. Twenty-five years old and he acted like he was fifty. Responsible. Mature. Serious almost all the time. Ian felt the life draining out of him just watching his brother in the saddle.

  “Bet I can beat you to the top of that hill over there.” Ian lifted his chin once in challenge, knowing his brother wouldn’t be able to resist. Mack always had to run the fastest, jump the highest, and whistle the loudest. He was nothing if not competitive, and yet, he always managed to do it Cool Hand Luke style, with no one fully realizing how much it mattere
d to him to be on top. Stealth ego. Mack MacKenzie was all about the stealth ego.

  “When are you going to give it up, Ian? You know you’re as slow as Methusela on a damn horse. All hat and no cattle. That’s why you want to run away to the city so no one will know your shame.” He chuckled. “There you can take the ankle express everywhere you need to go and forget about these pesky four-legged beasts.”

  Ian rolled his eyes at the tired expressions that their father had been using since before they were born. It was scary how easily they were rubbing off on Mack, now that he was taking on the mantle of ranch manager. “No, I’m not as slow as Methusela, I’m faster than you, and I can prove it. Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is? Race me to the top of the hill.”

  Mack looked over at him out of the corner of his eye, his gaze dropping to take in the horse under Ian’s saddle. Then he looked at the hill he’d have to climb, his eyes scanning the landscape between where his horse stood and there.

  “What’s the bet?” Mack asked, shifting again in the saddle, getting a tighter grip on his reins, shortening them just the slightest bit.

  Ian grinned, knowing triumph was nearly within his grasp.

  “If I win, you go to Vegas. No bitchin’, no whinin’, no excuses. And you drink and you gamble and you womanize a little. Not a lot, just a little.”

  Mack’s jaw bounced out a few times as he gritted his teeth, but he didn’t say no. Instead, he smirked. “And if I win, you stay long enough to go to Mom’s birthday party.”

  Ian’s smile disappeared. “Aw, come on! That’s not fair! You know I have to start work in Portland before that!”

  Mack shrugged, a genuine smile sliding out to greet the day for the first time. “Not my problem, little bro. You do what you gotta do.” He shrugged, all nonchalant, not a care in the world. “I don’t have to race today. You know I’m going to beat your ass anyway.”

  “Screw that,” said Ian, kicking his horse hard and snapping its hind end with the long end of his reins. “Heeyah!” The beast leaped into action, almost throwing him out of the saddle. He blew a stirrup, but there was nothing he could do but hang on and hope for the best.