Western Flame

Chapter 5

What in the hell are you doing, West?

Tanner was having an argument with himself in his head as he sat down in the stylist chair and looked around. He was in Liana's salon, waiting for her to clean a damned cut. What he should be doing is getting the hell out of Dodge, and going home.

He could just as easily clean his stupid hand there.

Little touches of Liana were everywhere, instantly recognizable. The bright, cheerful colours. The funny quotes on artsy painted plaques. A picture of her and Caitlin at Liz and Jake's wedding stuck in the mirror. Vibrant green tropical plants taller than him in one corner. He'd never once set foot in this place, had never dared.

Four years ago she'd hung the new sign outside after buying out the woman she worked for, Yolande, for what most folks said was a song. The gossip mill said she'd run it into the ground in a year. The Liana he'd known would prove them all wrong. When she set her sights on something, nothing got in her way.

Except him.

So here he was, in the one place he never thought he would be, with a woman who complicated his thoughts whenever he was near her. When she'd grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes back at his truck, he could no more have walked away than fly. He'd just followed her like a puppy dog all the way here.

He'd walked in the back door of Catalina's only half an hour ago. The owner was an old high school buddy, and he often popped in later at night to grab a loaded cheese fry from the kitchen and shoot the shit. Brian had offered him a beer, and how could he say no? He'd just parked himself at the bar, Brian was halfway done filling up his pint when he caught Liana kneeing Dermott in the balls out the front window.

He wasn't sure how he got from where he was to the front patio, but he'd lost his ability to think straight the moment he saw Dermott pin her to the railing, holding her arm behind her. It was as if he momentarily blacked out, and came to standing over Dermott, ready to tear him to pieces.

Liana yelled at him after the fact, which he expected. But, it had felt marvellous to fuck that asshole up, even if he was drunk and could barely stand. He deserved it, and more. Just like the last time he'd decked him in high school. A long time ago now.

His hand throbbed like a sonofabitch, and it pulled him back to the present. Examining the cut, he wiggled his thumb and the gash split, oozing blood. So much for working in the barns in the next couple of days. What was he thinking, punching that paper box? He hadn't counted on the cold making the plastic so brittle it would shatter when he put his fist through it.

What was it Liz always said? "Get the pickle out of your ass, Tan, and deal with it." This was not dealing with it. At all.

"Okay, let's see your 'papercut'," Liana said, air quoting with her fingers. She was all business with a basin of water and a first aid kit tucked under her arm. She set it all on the counter in front of the chair, and pulled out a roll of cotton from a rolling cart beside it. He held out his hand, like the lion with the thorn in its paw, the heat from her hand disturbing his control just enough that his heartbeat kicked up a notch.

"Well, it isn't too bad. I'll clean it and put some antibiotic cream on it. You should get Caitlin to look at it in the morning if you can. I'm not exactly Florence Nightingale."

He nodded mutely, swallowing as her fingers slid out from under his and set his hand on the arm of the chair. She reached for the cotton roll, tore some off of it and dunked it in the water. She hesitated as she squeezed it out.

"This might sting," she said. "You gonna faint on me?"

"No," he rasped out.

She gently dabbed the wound and it did sting. He hissed and she twisted her lips to hide a grin, but kept right on cleaning, the cotton slowly turning red, the water tinged with pink as she swished and dabbed. The only sounds were the hum of the fluorescent lights and the water in the bowl. He was holding his breath.