Loving Her Crazy (2 page)

She sighed and pulled up Lena’s number. Like it or not, there was no help for it. She and the Sloane Ranger would just have to wait it out.

Chapter Two

Nash Wallace thanked the woman behind the ticket counter for the bad news she’d just given him and wandered off in search of…something. He had no clue what to do. He didn’t particularly want to get a hotel room for the night, nor did he want to hang out in the airport until nine the next morning when his new flight was set to leave. He’d left himself a few extra days of visiting time, so he wouldn’t miss his brother’s college graduation, as long as he really was able to get to Miami the next day. But having a good sixteen hours to kill in Chicago hadn’t exactly been part of the plan.

Then again, he’d never been to Chicago, so it could be nice to get out there and see some sights. Snow-covered though they might be. He didn’t often leave his ranch in Montana, so Chicago would surely offer some interesting distractions.

He glanced out a bank of windows and stopped in his tracks. Looked like he wouldn’t have to go too far to find something interesting, after all. The woman who’d been sitting in front of him on the plane now sat staring out the window and chatting on her phone, her combat-booted feet propped up on a ridiculous looking hot pink duffel bag that had…lobsters on it? She ran her hand through her short brunette hair, leaving it ruffled in a sexy I-just-got-out-of-bed way.

She was so far out of his normal range of interest his reaction to her surprised him. His last girlfriend, well, fiancée for a brief but horrible few months, had been a rodeo queen. Gorgeous, blond, toned from hours of barrel riding and ranch work, but soft in all the right places, and she could fill out a pair of Wranglers like nobody’s business. They had seemed to have everything in common. But while Nash loved his life, his home, his animals, and the everyday business of running a working ranch, Allison had wanted nothing more than to get out of their small town and find something more exciting.

His little brother Chase had felt the same way and had left Montana a week after high school graduation. He’d been accepted at several colleges around the country, and he’d chosen the University of Miami…as far away from Montana as he could get and still stay in the continental United States. He’d grown his hair out, taken up surfing, pierced and tattooed a few body parts, and from all accounts, he was having the time of his life. Nash couldn’t imagine ever leaving his ranch. But every now and then he envied his brother’s carefree life.

The woman from the plane reminded him a little of Chase. Granted, he didn’t know her at all. But she’d had that same irrepressible spirit shining from those beautiful brown eyes of hers as she’d peeked over the airplane seat. Her suggestions to her unwilling seatmate had made Nash laugh. She was spunky and full of life and drop-dead gorgeous in a sort of dark and mysterious kind of way. And that faint southern accent of hers was quite possibly the most adorable thing he’d ever heard in his life.

He was moving toward her before he’d made the conscious decision to do so. She glanced at him briefly when he sat down, and then her gaze shot back to him and lingered. The level of her voice dropped several notches so he couldn’t really hear what she was saying, but the smile on her lips and the fact she hadn’t taken her eyes off him had to be good signs.

She sat up and scooted to the edge of her seat, her gaze locked with his as she spoke into the phone. “You do that. Call me later.”

She put the phone down and her smile widened. “Hi, there,” she said to him, holding out her hand. “Iris Clayton.”

He took her hand, happily surprised at the firm pressure she applied. Most women kept up the dainty act when shaking hands. Having been raised by a hard-working ranch woman, he had no illusions as to the true grit and strength of a woman, but most seemed hesitant to show it. Especially when meeting a man for the first time. Their handshakes were soft, delicate, sometimes barely squeezing at all.

But Iris. She was smiling up at him, full eye contact, hand firmly pressing against his own. He made no move to withdraw his hand. Neither did she.

He smiled back at her, his interest thoroughly piqued for the first time in a very long time. “Nash Wallace. Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Iris said, her smile widening.

She finally withdrew her hand, but without the typical blush or apologetic look that most women would have given him. She got up and sat down next to him, turning her body and propping one leg up on the seat so she could face him. Nash leaned back, draping his arm over the seat she was perched on. She didn’t blink an eye.

Oh, he liked her. A lot. She nearly vibrated with energy. He’d gotten a small glimpse of her on the plane but up close and personal? He’d have a few lucky stars to thank tonight for sending such a breath of fresh air his way.

“So, Nash. Where’re you from?”

“Montana.”

Her eyebrows rose. “So you’re not just playing dress-up then. You’re like a
real
cowboy?”

He laughed. “Yes, ma’am. Own a ranch and everything.”

“With animals or is it more of a farm thing?”

“Animals. Cattle, mostly, though we also have sheep and horses.”

Her eyes widened. “So what are you doing in Chicago?”

Nash tilted his head, feeling a bit like he was at a job interview with the way she was peppering him with questions. Though he didn’t mind all that much. She seemed genuinely interested in him. And it wasn’t like he had anything else to do. So, spilling his life story to a total stranger it was.

“My little brother is graduating from the University of Miami. I was on my way down for the ceremony.”

“Cool. So do you have—”

Nash held up his hand, and she stopped mid-sentence.

“My turn,” he said with a grin.

She laughed. “Sorry. My mouth tends to run away with me sometimes. Seriously, don’t hesitate to jump in whenever I go haywire.”

“Naw, I don’t have a problem with you talking a mile a minute. I just want to get to know you, too. How about we take turns with the questions?”

Iris leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Deal. I’m three up on you, so go ahead and ask.”

“Okay, where are you from?”

“North Carolina.”

“Nice. I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Iris opened her mouth to say something but Nash jumped in first. “I’ve got two more.”

She laughed again. “Sorry. Shoot.”

“
Hmm
,” he said, rubbing a finger over his lip as he looked her up and down. “Well, I can’t tell just from looking at you what your profession might be, so I guess I’ll have to ask.”

Iris’s eyes sparkled, and she sat back with a smug little grin. “Not true.”

“What’s not true?”

“You
can
tell by looking at me. Well, by looking at a specific part.”

Nash squinted, looking her over again. “Nope. Still no clue.”

Iris leaned forward, close enough that her floral perfume drifted over him. He had to resist the urge to close his eyes and drag in a deep breath.

“I have a tattoo that represents my profession,” she mock-whispered before sitting back again. “But you’ll have to get to know me a lot better before I let you get a peek at it.”

Her playful expression and the sudden image of a sexy little tattoo on some undercover body part kicked Nash’s heart rate into overdrive, and he dragged his eyes away from her, looking anywhere but at her in an effort to keep his suddenly tighter jeans from cutting off his circulation.

He cleared his throat. “Well then, I’ll just have to ask. What do you do for a living?”

Her pert little mouth twitched. She knew what she was doing to him. And she was enjoying it. Well, two could play at that game. He casually lowered the leg that had been crossed at the ankle, doing the classic man-spread pose that left very little to her imagination. Especially in the jeans that, while not overly tight when standing, were nice and snug while sitting.

Iris paused in her description of her nursing job, her eyes flickering down to his lap, back up, and then down again for a longer look. Again, Nash had to resist the urge to laugh. He’d never met anyone so bold. She was a total trip.

She sat patiently waiting, and he realized she’d finished speaking and he was still staring at her. He was usually much smoother around the ladies. The insanely sexy Iris was throwing him off his game in a major way. And he liked it.

“Question three?” she asked.

“What’s a girl from North Carolina doing stuck in a frozen Chicago airport?”

“Well, it’s not by choice, I assure you,” she said, tucking her feet beneath her on the chair. “I should be lying on the beach in my teeny bikini and sipping Mai Tais right now.”

Nash swallowed past the sudden tightness in his chest. He’d known the woman five minutes, and he’d been ready to explode for a good three and a half of them. He wondered if he’d be able to see her tattoo or if it was in a spot even the small scraps of material that passed as a typical bathing suit would hide. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything so much as to find out.

He caught something about a friend’s wedding and babysitting and mentally kicked himself for tuning out again. Yes, she was hot, and totally fascinating. But she wasn’t some piece of meat to be drooled over. She deserved his respectful attention, and he was damn well going to give it to her.

“My turn again,” she said and he nodded. “What are your plans for the next sixteen hours until our flight leaves?”

“I didn’t have anything concrete in mind, though I don’t particularly want to get a hotel. I thought it might be fun to get out of here and go sight-seeing.”

“In the snow?”

He shrugged. “Why not? What do you say? You want to come see the city with me?” he asked, holding out his hand. His heart pounded and he realized he was nervous. He really wanted her to say yes.

A brilliant smile spread across her lips and she slid her hand back into his. “I’d love to.”

Excitement soared through him. “Well then,” he said, standing and pulling her to her feet. “I’ll just grab Clyde and you grab your…that um…” He gestured to her bag.

“The Sloane Ranger? Who’s Clyde?”

Nash chuckled. “You call your bag the Sloane Ranger?”

She shrugged. “Well, technically that’s the name of the company that makes it. But I’ve got to call it something, so I figured I might as well stick with it. Who’s Clyde?”

Nash patted the ugly, brown rolling suitcase at his feet with a grin, and Iris laughed. “You named your suitcase, too?”

“I traveled back and forth between my parents’ ranch and my grandparents’ when I was growing up. It sort of became something of a pet.”

Iris glanced back at the suitcase. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks like Clyde might be ready to be put down.”

Nash’s jaw dropped open in exaggerated shock. “I could never do that! Clyde’s been with me since grade school.”

Iris’s eyebrows raised. “He looks like it.”

Nash laughed again. “Ah, he’s just seen better days is all.”

“During the Civil War? That thing’s falling apart.”

“No worries. Way ahead of you,” Nash said, turning the suitcase over so she could see the other side. Several strips of brown duct tape crossed the back of the case.

Iris burst out laughing. “Oh my God. Well, at least you’re getting your money’s worth out of it.”

“That I am.”

Iris let her hand slide up his arm until it rested in the crook of his elbow, which he pulled closer to his body. She didn’t hesitate to settle next to his side. She was shorter than him, but not by that much. At least compared to most women he’d dated. At six foot three he didn’t find many women who could match him in the height department. But Iris’s head came up to his jaw. In fact, if he pulled her closer, her head would fit just about perfectly beneath his chin.

He was tempted to do just that, but figured he’d better pace himself. So far, Iris seemed spunky and outgoing, and he had a feeling she’d be a riot to hang out with. That didn’t mean she’d want some strange man trying to canoodle her in the airport waiting area. Then again, she
had
suggested they do just that on the plane…but that had been brought on by desperation caused by their imprisonment in the tin can. She might not be as up for it if their canoodling was more than just a ploy to get them kicked off a plane.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to Sloane Ranger.

Iris nodded and he scooped up her bag and looped the straps around the bar of his suitcase. Then he held out his arm to her again. “Shall we?”

“Where to?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I’m not sure what they’ve got here, but I do smell something edible in that direction,” he said, pointing down the hall.

“That actually sounds pretty good. I haven’t eaten since I left the house this morning, and my stomach is about to stage a revolution.”

Nash laughed. “Well, we can’t have that. Let’s go see what we can find.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They followed their noses until they reached a long hallway where restaurants and food vendors were situated every few feet.

“What smells good to you?” Nash asked, eyeing their options.

Iris did the same. They spotted the Cinnabon at about the same time.

“
Ooo
,” Iris said, glancing up at him with a speculative smile.

“My thoughts exactly,” Nash said, his mouth already watering at the thought of the warm, flaky, cinnamon and glaze-smeared pastry.

Iris grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the line in front of the counter. Not that he put up a fight. Within fifteen minutes, they were at a small table stuffing their faces with a pile of sugary deliciousness the size of a Frisbee. He’d also grabbed a large coffee, hot and black, the only way to drink it. Iris, however, had opted for a tall, frosty milk.

The choice had surprised him. “You don’t like coffee?”

Iris shrugged. “Never had it.”

Nash put his cup down, staring at her in open-mouthed astonishment. “How is that even possible? Is it some religious thing or something?”

Iris laughed. “No. I like the smell of it, so I assume I’d probably like it. But I’m kind of sensitive to caffeine. Even drinking a Coke sets my heart skipping beats. So I stay away from it, most of the time.”