Читать книгу Marry Me, Mackenzie! - Joanna Sims - Страница 9

Chapter Three

Dylan shifted into Reverse, but he just couldn’t bring himself to back out. Instead, he shifted back into Park, shut off the engine and got out of the car. Whether or not Mackenzie wanted him to make certain she was okay before he took off, it was something he felt he needed to do. Dylan set off toward the barn entrance; he carefully picked his way through long grass, weeds and sun-dried horse manure.

“You need some help?” Dylan was greeted by a young man in his early twenties leading a dark brown mare to one of the pastures. The young man appeared to have cerebral palsy and walked with a jerky, unsteady gate.

“I’m looking for Hope and her mom,” Dylan said.

“They’re in the office.” The young man pointed behind him.

“Thanks,” Dylan said just before he felt his left shoe sink into a fresh pile of manure. “Crap!”

“Yes, sir.” The young man laughed as he turned the mare loose in the pasture. “That’s exactly what it is.”

Dylan shook his head as he tried to wipe the manure off his shoe in the grass. Today of all days he had to put on his Testoni lace-ups; he had spent some time this morning, polishing and buffing them to just the right amount of shine. Once he managed to semiclean his pricey leather shoes, he got himself back on track and found his way to the office. Dylan quietly stepped inside the disheveled hub of Pegasus. Dirt and hay were strewn across the floor and a large, rusty fan was kicking up more dust than circulating air. Mackenzie, a girl who must have been her daughter and a tall woman with cropped snow-white hair were gathered near a gray metal desk at the back of the rectangular office.

“Mom—I’m okay. When I bent down to grab a currycomb, I hit my head on the shelf. It’s no big deal,” Dylan heard Hope say.

Mackenzie brushed the girl’s bangs out of the way to look at the bump on Hope’s forehead. “Well—you’ve got a pretty good knot up there, kiddo.”

“Here.” The older woman held out a Ziploc baggy full of ice. “This’ll hold her till you can get her checked out.”

“But we still have more riders coming,” Hope protested.

Mackenzie took the bag of ice. “Thanks, Aggie.”

“They need my help, Mom! I’m fine. Really. I don’t need to go to the doctor.” Hope tried once again to reverse her fortune.

“Honey—I’m sorry.” Mackenzie held her daughter’s hand in hers. “We’ve gotta get this checked out. If the doctor gives you the green light, I promise, you’ll be right back here tomorrow.”

Hope sighed dramatically and pressed the ice to the lump on her forehead. “Fine.”

Not wanting to interrupt the mother-daughter negotiation, Dylan hung back.

“Can I help you?” Aggie was suddenly in his face and confronting him like a protective mama bear with a cub.

Dylan slipped off his sunglasses and hooked them into the collar of his shirt. “I’m just checking on Mackenzie.”

Mackenzie jerked her head around when she heard his voice. She swayed slightly and heard ringing in her ears as sheer panic sent her blood pressure soaring. “Dylan...why are you still here?”

“I’m just making sure you’re okay before I leave.” Dylan couldn’t figure out why Mackenzie was freaked out about him looking out for her. Her overreaction struck him as odd.

Trapped, Mackenzie turned to face Dylan and blocked his view of Hope with her body. “That’s my ride, Aggie.”

“Oh!” Aggie wiped the sweat from the deep wrinkles etched into her brow. “If I’d known that, I would’ve made it a point to more cordial. I thought you might be one of them developers the Cook family’s been sending around here lately....”

“Developers?” Mackenzie asked, temporarily distracted from her immediate problem.

Aggie waved her hand back and forth impatiently. “I don’t want to borrow trouble talkin’ about it right now.

“Agnes Abbot.” Agnes stuck out her hand to Dylan. “You can call me Aggie or Mrs. Abbot—take your pick. But if you call me Agnes, don’t expect an answer.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Abbot.” Aggie’s hand was damp and gritty. “Dylan Axel.”

“And when I said that you could take your pick, I meant for you to pick Aggie.”

“Aggie,” Dylan repeated with a nod.

“Who’s that, Mom?” Hope peeked around Mackenzie’s body.

Realizing that there was no way out of this trap except forward, Mackenzie suddenly felt completely, abnormally, calm. This was going to happen. This meeting between father and daughter was unfolding organically, out of her control. Wasn’t Rayna always preaching about life providing the right experiences at the right time? Maybe she was right. Perhaps she just needed to get out of life’s way. So she did. She took a small step to the side and let Hope see her father for the first time.

“Hope—this is my friend Dylan.” Her voice was surprisingly steady. “Dylan—I’d like you to meet my daughter, Hope.”

Mackenzie zoomed in on Dylan’s face first, and then Hope’s, as they spoke to each other for the first time. If she had expected them to recognize each other instantly, like a made-for-TV movie, they didn’t.

“Hi, Hope. How’s your head?” Dylan had walked over to where Hope was sitting. For Mackenzie, it was so easy to see Dylan in Hope—the way she walked, the way she held her shoulders. Her smile.

“It doesn’t even hurt,” Hope explained to him.

Hope had Mackenzie’s curly russet hair, cut into a bob just below her chin, as well as her mother’s violet-blue eyes. But, that’s where the resemblance ended. Her face was round instead of heart-shaped like her mother’s; her skin was fairer and she had freckles on her arms and her face. The thought popped into his head that Hope must take strongly after her father’s side of the family.

To Aggie, Hope said, “I think I should stay here. Don’t you think I should stay?”

“No, ma’am.” Aggie shook her head while she riffled around in one of the desk’s drawers. “Your mom’s got the right idea. They’ll be just fine without us while we get you checked out.”

“Nice try, kiddo.” Mackenzie held out her hand to Hope. “You’re going.”

“Man...” Hope’s mouth drooped in disappointment. But she put her hand into Mackenzie’s hand and stood up slowly.

“Come on, kiddo...cheer up.” Mackenzie wrapped her arm tightly around Hope’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “We’ve been through worse, right?”

“Right.” Hope gave her mom a halfhearted smile and returned the hug.

“Found one.” Aggie pulled a pamphlet out of the pencil drawer and tromped over to Dylan in her knee-high rubber boots.

“Here.” Aggie pressed the pamphlet into Dylan’s hand, then she tapped on the front of it. “Here’s the 411 on this place. We’re always looking for volunteers. Do you have any horse experience?”

Dylan looked at the pamphlet. “Actually, I do.”

“Perfect! We can always use another volunteer with some horse sense,” Aggie said to him, hands resting on her squared hips. Then to Mackenzie, she said, “Well—let’s get.”

While Dylan skimmed the pamphlet quickly, it occurred to Mackenzie that she had just survived a moment that she had dreaded, and worried herself sick about, for years. Dylan and Hope had met and the world hadn’t fallen off its axis. It gave her reason to believe that when the truth about their relationship came out, things would be okay for all of them.

Dylan folded the pamphlet and tucked it into his front pocket.

“Are you going to volunteer?” Hope asked him.

Mackenzie and Hope were standing directly in front of him now, arm in arm, the close bond between mother and daughter on display. It didn’t surprise him that Mackenzie had turned out to be a dedicated and attentive mother. The way she had always taken care of every living thing around her when they were young, he didn’t doubt it had been an easy transition into motherhood.

“I don’t know.” Dylan shifted his eyes between mother and daughter. “Maybe.”

“You should.” Hope tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “It’s really fun.”

From the doorway, Aggie rattled her keys. “We’re burning daylight here! Let’s go!”

“We’re coming,” Mackenzie said to Aggie, then to Dylan, “Thank you, Dylan. I’m sure you had a lot of things to do today. I hope this didn’t put you behind schedule too much...”

“I was glad I could help.” Dylan found himself intrigued, once again, by Mackenzie’s unique lavender-blue eyes.

“Well...thank you again.” Mackenzie sent him a brief smile. “Come on, kiddo. Aggie’s already got the truck running.”

“Nice to meet you, Hope,” Dylan said.

“Bye.” Hope lifted her hand up and gave a short wave.

Dylan waited for Mackenzie and Hope to turn and head toward the door. As Hope turned, something on the very top of her left ear caught his eye. Instead of following directly behind them, Dylan was too distracted to move. Dylan’s eyes narrowed and latched on to Hope as he reached up to touch a similar small bump at the top of his own left ear.

“Are you coming, Dylan?” Mackenzie had paused in the doorway.

“What?” Dylan asked, distracted.

“Are you coming?” Mackenzie repeated.

Dylan swallowed hard several times. He couldn’t seem to get his mouth to move, so he just nodded his response and forced himself to remain calm. Hands jammed into his front pockets, Dylan followed them out. He watched as Mackenzie and Hope piled into Aggie’s blue long-bed dual-tire truck. Aggie backed out, Mackenzie waved goodbye and Dylan’s jumbled thoughts managed to land on one very disturbing truth: the only other time he had ever seen a small bump like Hope’s was when he was looking at himself in the mirror.

* * *

Instead of heading to the studio, which was his original plan, Dylan drove home on autopilot from the barn. His mind was churning like a hamster on a hamster wheel, just going around and around in the same circle. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember if he’d used a condom when he’d slept with Mackenzie. He had always been religious about it, but he hadn’t expected to sleep with anyone at the wedding. He had still been licking his wounds from his breakup with Christa, and ending up in Mackenzie’s hotel room that night had been a completely unplanned event. And, unless Mackenzie was in the habit of carrying condoms, which seemed out of character, there was a real good chance they’d had unprotected sex that night. In that case, it was possible, highly possible that Mackenzie’s daughter was his child.

Dylan pulled into the garage and parked next to his black Viper. He jumped out of his car and headed inside. He walked straight into the downstairs bathroom, flipped on the light and leaned in toward the mirror. He touched the tiny bump on his ear with his finger. He hadn’t been imagining it—Hope’s bump matched his. What were the odds that another man, the one who’d fathered Hope, would have the same genetic mark?

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Dylan said as he left the bathroom. He went into the living room and pulled open the doors of the custom-built bookcases. He knelt down and started to search through the books on the bottom shelf. He found what he was looking for and pulled it off the shelf. His heart started to thud heavily in his chest as he sat down in his recliner and opened the old family photo album. On the way home, an odd thought had taken root in his mind. There was something so familiar about Hope and he couldn’t get a particular family photo, one of his favorites, out of his mind.

Dylan flipped through the pages of the album until he found the photo he’d been looking for. He turned on the light beside the recliner and held the photo under the light.

“No...” Dylan leaned over and studied the photo of his mother and his aunt Gerri sitting together on the porch. His mom had to be around twelve and Aunt Gerri looked to be near eight or nine. Hope was the spitting image of Aunt Gerri. Yes, she had Mackenzie’s coloring, but those features belonged to his family. That bump on Hope’s ear came directly from his genes. He’d stake his life on it.

“No...” Dylan closed his eyes. A rush of heat crashed over his body, followed by a wave of nausea. He had a daughter. He was a father. Hope was his child.

What the hell is going on here?

“Babe!” Jenna came through the front door carrying an empty tote bag over her shoulder. “Where are you?”

“In the den.” Dylan leaned forward and dropped his head down.

“There you are...” Jenna dropped her bag on the floor. She climbed into his lap and kissed him passionately on the mouth.

“I’ve missed you, babe.” Jenna curled her long legs up; rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Dylan said in a monotone.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Jenna asked.

Dylan reached over with his free hand and shut the album. “I was just checking something out for Aunt Gerri.”

“Be honest.” Jenna unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “Are you upset with me?”

“Why would I be upset with you?” Dylan felt suffocated and wished Jenna wasn’t sitting on him, but he didn’t have the heart to push her away.

“Because I’m going to be staying with Denise in LA...didn’t you get my message?”

Dylan tried to focus on what Jenna was saying. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow. Remember the audition I had this week? I got the pilot!” Jenna squealed loudly as she hugged him tightly. “Can you believe it?!”

“Congratulations, Jenna. I’m really happy for you.”

“And not mad?”

“No.” Dylan rubbed his hand over her arm. “Of course not.”

“I mean—we can still probably see each other on weekends.”

“Sure.”

“And...” Jenna kissed the side of his neck. “I think the sex’ll be even hotter when we do see each other, don’t you think?”

Dylan tried to muster a smile in response, but he just wanted her to get off his lap.

“Do you want to go upstairs for a quickie before I grab my stuff?” Jenna slipped her hand into his shirt so she could run her hand over his bare chest. “I only have, like, an hour because I have to finish packing over at my place, but...we still have time. If you want...”

Dylan patted her leg. “Not now, Jenna. I’m...beat.”

Jenna shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s okay. But at least come up and keep me company while I pack.”

Jenna uncurled herself from his lap, held out her hand and wiggled her fingers so he’d take her hand. Dylan followed Jenna up the stairs. He sat on the edge of the soaker tub while Jenna cleaned out the drawer he had cleared out for her. He listened while she chattered excitedly about her new job, but he couldn’t focus on her words. His mind was fixated on one thing and one thing only: Hope. Usually he enjoyed hanging out with low-demand Jenna. But today she was grating on his nerves, and he had never been so happy to see her go. He had gone through the motions of carrying her bag out to her BMW and then kissing her as if he meant it before she drove away. There was an unspoken goodbye in that kiss; he had the feeling that it was only a matter of time before their relationship fizzled under the pressure of distance. They had both always known that neither one of them was playing a long game.

After seeing the last of her taillights, Dylan closed the front door and went outside on the balcony so he could look at the ocean waves. He needed to clear his head, figure out his next move. The best way he knew to clear his head was to get on his surfboard. The waves were small, but he didn’t care. He just needed to blow off some steam and get his head screwed back on straight. After he spent several hours pounding the waves, Dylan jumped into the shower with clarity of mind—he knew exactly what he needed to do. He wasn’t about to let this thing fester overnight. He was going to have to confront Mackenzie. He was going to ask her point-blank if Hope was his child. Direct was the only way he knew how to do business. Dylan dried off quickly, pulled on some casual clothes and then dialed a familiar number.

“Jordan. I’m glad I caught you.” Dylan held a pen in his hand poised above a pad of paper. “Listen—I think I may have a job for your cousin Mackenzie. Can I grab her number from you real quick?”

* * *

Mackenzie put all of Hope’s medicine bottles back in the cabinet. Even though Hope had fought it valiantly, getting injured at the barn, however minor, had worn her out. After she ate and took her medicine, Hope had gone to bed early.

“So tell me what happened,” Rayna said over the phone. “They actually met today?”

Mackenzie pushed some recipe boxes out of the way and sat down on the love seat. “I needed a ride. He was there. It just happened.”

“Well...you know I don’t believe in coincidences...”

“I know...”

“So...what are you going to do?”

Mackenzie slumped down farther into the cushion and rubbed her eyes. “I’m going to get myself through this week, and then I’m going to call him. Ask to meet.”

“I think you’re doing the right thing. Do you know what you’re going to say?”

“No. Not a clue.” Mackenzie stared up at the ceiling. “I have a couple of days to think about it. What’s the etiquette on something like this?”

“I don’t know. We could look it up online.”

Mackenzie kicked off her shoes and pulled off her socks. “I was joking, Ray.”

“I know. But I bet there’s a ton of stuff out there about how you tell your baby daddy that he is your baby daddy...”

Mackenzie curled into the fetal position on the love seat. “Ugh. I hate that term. Baby daddy.”

“Sorry. But you know what I mean. You know someone had to write a ‘how to’ manual. There’s probably a DNA for Dummies out there...”

Mackenzie’s phone chirped in her ear, signaling call waiting. “Hold on, Ray. Someone’s calling.”

Mackenzie took the phone away from her ear and looked at the incoming call.

Dylan Axel was the name that flashed across the screen.

“Dylan’s on the other line,” Mackenzie told Ray.

“I’m hanging up,” Rayna said quickly. “Call me back!”

Dylan couldn’t sit still while he waited for Mackenzie to answer. He had been staring at Mackenzie’s number for nearly an hour. Before he dialed her number, he began to question his own logic. Yet, after nearly an hour of careful consideration, his gut just wouldn’t stop prodding him to place the call. If Hope was his daughter, then he had a right to know.

“Hello?” Mackenzie picked up the line.

“It’s Dylan, Mackenzie.” It was work to control his tone. “How’s Hope?”

“She’s worn out, but doing fine. The doctor cleared her to return to the barn tomorrow...”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Dylan was pacing in a circular pattern.

After an uncomfortable silence, Mackenzie asked, “Um...did Jordan give you my private number?”

“Yes.” Dylan needed to get to the point. “She did. Look—there’s something that I need to ask you, Mackenzie.”

There was a razor-sharp edge in Dylan’s tone that brought her to the edge of the love seat.

“What’s that?” Her attempt to sound casual failed.

“And I need you to give me an honest answer...”

Dylan stopped pacing, closed his eyes and tried to control his out-of-control heartbeat, as he posed his simple, straightforward question:

“Is Hope my child?”