Читать книгу Marriage On The Cards: Marry Me, Mackenzie! / A Proposal Worth Millions / Heart Surgeon, Hero...Husband? - Susan Carlisle - Страница 15

Chapter Eight

Mackenzie stood in front of her closet, staring at the sad collection of old clothing hanging askew on wire hangers. After several attempts at finding something even remotely fashionable to wear to Dylan’s house for dinner, Mackenzie groaned dramatically and threw herself face down on her unmade bed. Dylan always looked so put together; she wanted at least to try, for her own sake, to look halfway decent for a change. But, in truth, she didn’t really want to go at all. What she really wanted to do with her first kid-free weekend was to procure a bag of ranch-flavored Doritos and to watch the Food Network in bed. When her cell started to ring, she reached out with her hand and felt around on the nightstand for the phone. Not lifting her head up, she put the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“What are you doing?” It was Rayna calling.

“Slowly suffocating myself with my hypoallergenic pillow...”

“I take it the hunt for an outfit isn’t going so well?”

Mackenzie rolled onto her back and wrapped herself in her comforter like a burrito. “I think I’m going to call him and tell him I’m too tired...”

“I’m coming over...”

“Is that gangsta rap?” Mackenzie took a time-out from her own crisis and tuned her ear to the loud music blasting through the phone.

“Yes. Charlie had a bad day at work. Max and I are coming over.”

Moments later, Rayna and her rotund feline arrived in her bedroom. She peeled the comforter back and found Mackenzie inside. Max jumped up onto her bed with a grunt. He nudged her hand so she would pet him.

“Mackenzie...you can’t back out. How long has it been since you’ve done anything remotely fun?”

Mackenzie tried to remember but couldn’t.

“If you have to think about it for that long, then it’s been way too long. And do you know what I think? I think that hidden beneath these rumpled, oversize clothes is a beautiful, curvy woman just dying to come out and play.” Rayna tugged on Mackenzie’s arm until she was upright. “Now...you go take a shower because you smell really sweaty. Max and I will try to find you something less...boxy to wear.”

Needing to clean up anyway, Mackenzie took a quick shower and shrugged into her bathrobe. She wiped the moisture from the bathroom mirror and frowned at her own reflection. She looked tired. Dark circles, a little bit of stress acne on her chin.

Lovely.

When Mackenzie returned to her bedroom, her dirty clothes had been collected and deposited in the hamper. And Max was happily lounging on her freshly made bed.

“What did you do in here?” Mackenzie asked.

“Oh...I just picked up a little so I could see what we’re working with,” Rayna said offhandedly. “You do know that square isn’t a flattering shape for a woman’s body, right?” Rayna had pulled several tops out of her closet. “Why are all your clothes two sizes too big?”

“I don’t have time for shopping, Ray...you know what I do have time for?” She sounded defensive. “Payroll. And hospital visits. So, no offense, but having a fashion moment just isn’t high up on my priority list.”

“I know how busy you are.” Rayna’s hands stilled and she looked over her shoulder at Mackenzie. “But you’re still buying clothes for your old body. And you may not believe me, but a good pair of jeans and a pretty blouse can change your whole outlook on life.”

Mackenzie caught her reflection in the dresser mirror. Yes, she had lost a ton of weight. But when she looked in the mirror, all she saw was fat. And, with Hope’s illness and always struggling to make ends meet, it was easier just to buy oversize, comfy clothes and avoid reflective surfaces. She couldn’t remember the last time she had actually tried something on in a fitting room.

“Now, this is pretty!” Rayna spun around and held up a deep purple short-sleeved blouse that Hope had convinced her to buy. “What do you think? It still has the price tag on it.”

Mackenzie shook her head. “No. I don’t do short sleeves. My arms are too...” She wrinkled her nose distastefully. “Jiggly.”

Disappointed, Rayna hung the blouse back in the closet. “You’re your own worst enemy...you’re hot and you don’t even know it.”

Mackenzie opened her dresser drawer and pulled out her favorite long-sleeved San Diego Padres shirt. “It’s ridiculous that I’ve even been spending one second stressing about this...it’s Dylan. Not a date. So I’m not gonna get all gussied up, when I never get all gussied up, and make Dylan feel all weirded out because he thinks that I think that this evening is something more than it is. Which it’s not.”

“It’s a date.” Rayna sat down on the bed next to Max. “Friday night. And he’s cooking you dinner at his place? It’s a date.”

Refusing to indulge in Rayna’s fantasy, Mackenzie stepped into the bathroom to slip into the Padres shirt and a pair of jeans. Mackenzie sighed. The jeans were tighter around the waist than they used to be. Why did it always have to be such a battle? If she didn’t watch every bite, consider every carb or exercise several times a week, the scale would turn against her.

Whatever.

“Trust me, Ray...I’m not Dylan’s type.” Mackenzie grabbed her comb and began the chore of untangling her thick, wavy hair. “And he’s not really mine.”

“You actually have to date to have a type...and besides, you guys have a daughter...you must’ve been attracted to each other at some point. Right?”

“That was—” Mackenzie stopped combing her hair for a second to think. “I don’t know what that was.”

“A night of unforgettable passion?” Rayna raised her eyebrows suggestively several times.

Mackenzie scrunched up her face. “Uh-uh. Honestly...it was...really, really awkward.”

“Oh...” Rayna wilted. “See...judging from pictures, I would’ve thought Dylan would be good in bed. For a man. He’s got that sexy, squinty-eye thing going on.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mackenzie had never noticed Dylan having a sexy, squinty anything. It was Dylan. Annoying, mooning, bug-throwing Dylan.

Rayna held up her pinkie and wiggled it. “Is he really...you know? Tiny?”

“What?” Mackenzie looked perplexed at Rayna’s bouncing pinkie for a minute before she caught Rayna’s meaning. “No...no. He’s fine in that department. It’s just that we had way too much to drink...”

“Which never works in a guy’s favor...”

“And I didn’t want him to touch me anywhere because I was bulgy all over....”

Rayna’s brows lifted. “Now I’m actually kind of surprised the two of you managed to procreate.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Mackenzie twisted her hair up into a bun and secured it with a clip. “I can guarantee you that neither one of us wants a repeat of that night.”

Deflated, Rayna said, “So...not a date.”

“No. Definitely not a date.”

* * *

Dylan met her at the door, stylish, freshly showered and shaved. Not a surprise; he even managed to make sweaty and dirty at the barn look good. What was a surprise was the table setting. Dylan had obviously put some thought into setting the table for two. There were two lit candles on the table that caught, and held, her attention.

“Now that you’re here, I’m going to throw the salmon on the grill. You said you liked salmon, right?”

Mackenzie slipped her tote off her shoulder. “Yes...”

“Make yourself at home and I’ll be right back. Unless you want to keep me company...?”

“No.” Instead of putting the tote down, Mackenzie clutched it to her body. “I’ll wait here.”

I’m on a date.

Panic. Sheer unadulterated panic. Mackenzie quickly texted Ray: I’m on a DATE!

Ray shot a text back: Told U so! Yippee!

“Yippee? That’s the sage advice I get?” Mackenzie turned the phone on Vibrate and tucked it into her pocket.

Now what?

Should she leave or should she stay...that was the ultimate question.

“All right...” Dylan reappeared and headed for the fridge. “I hope you like sweet red wine...?”

Mackenzie nodded. She was still trying to figure out how to back out of this situation gracefully. Could she fake a stomachache? Menstrual cramps? It’s not that she didn’t want to be on a date with Dylan per se...she didn’t want to be on a date with anyone. Relationships took time and energy and she had very little of both of those resources to spare.

Dylan poured the wine, handed her a glass and then held his glass up for a toast. “To Hope’s continued health...”

Mackenzie touched her glass to his. “To Hope’s continued health...”

“And to new beginnings,” Dylan added.

Mackenzie hesitated before she took a sip of the sweet wine. She put her glass down on the counter. Dylan quickly pulled out a coaster and put it under her glass.

“How’s the wine?” Dylan asked.

“Good...” Mackenzie stared at the coaster for a moment. “Good. Um...”

“I’m glad that you showed, Mackenzie...I was actually pretty sure you were going to cancel on me...”

Mackenzie blurted out, “I almost did.”

“See...” Dylan laughed. “That’s one of the things I really like about you...you’re honest. Why don’t we go sit down, get comfortable.”

“No,” Mackenzie said tentatively, then more strongly, “No.”

“That’s okay. We don’t have to sit. I read somewhere that standing is actually better than sitting. Better for the circulation, I think.”

“I need to clear something up between us, I think...”

“What’s that?”

“I mean...there’s the table and the wine and the candles...it’s Friday night.” Mackenzie had one hand resting on her tote. “This feels kind of like a...date.”

Dylan put his glass down slowly on a coaster. “That’s because I thought it was a date.”

“Oh...”

“But you didn’t.” Dylan stared at her for a moment before he blew out the candles.

Crap! She had hurt him. And now Mackenzie was at a rare loss for words as she watched the two twin ribbons of smoke rise from the extinguished candles.

“This is embarrassing.” Dylan gulped down his wine and put his glass in the sink.

Both hands clutching the tote, Mackenzie said, “If I’d known that you thought this was a...date...I would never have said yes.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d embarrassed himself in front of a pretty woman he liked, but in this case, with Mackenzie, it stung just a little bit more than usual.

“I need to check on the salmon,” Dylan said.

How she had managed to land on the defensive in this scenario, Mackenzie couldn’t figure out...but on the defensive, she was. She followed Dylan to the outdoor kitchen. She sat down on the very edge of a built-in bench; Dylan pushed open the lid of the grill a bit harder than he normally would.

“The salmon looks good,” Mackenzie said for lack of anything more helpful to say.

Dylan flipped the salmon steaks over, seasoned them and then shut the lid tightly. Mackenzie felt like a grade-A heel; all she wanted to do now was to smooth things over with Dylan and to get the heck out of Dodge.

“Why would you think this was a date, Dylan?” Guilty, Mackenzie switched from contrite to accusatory.

“Just forget it, Mackenzie.” Dylan started to walk back to the house. But then he stopped. “No. You know what? Don’t forget it. Why wouldn’t you think this was a date?”

“Because...you’re that...” Mackenzie waved her hand up and down. “And I’m this...I’m not your type.”

Dylan sat down on a bench across from her. “How do you know what my type is, Mackenzie?”

“Christa? Jenna? Tall, blonde, skinny.” Mackenzie held up three fingers. “And, me? Short, chubby, brunette. Not exactly rocket science.”

“You forgot pretty...”

Mackenzie held up a fourth finger. “Pretty goes without saying.”

“No,” Dylan clarified. “I meant you. I think you’re pretty. And funny and sweet and a really great mom to Hope.”

Mackenzie crossed her legs and crossed her arms protectively in front of her body.

Dylan continued, “You know...Jenna and I both loved to surf. And I managed to sustain a relationship built on a mutual love for surfing for nearly a year. You and I have a child together...”

Now Dylan had her full attention.

“And I look at you and I look at Hope...and I think...maybe I have a chance at what Uncle Bill and Aunt Gerri had together.”

“You can’t force a family.” Mackenzie pulled her sleeves down over her hands and recrossed her arms.

“No, you can’t. But you can try to build one.” Dylan leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. “This doesn’t have anything to do with my type, does it? That’s just an excuse. This has to do with the fact that I’m not your type, right?”

“My friend Rayna says that you actually have to date to have a type...and I don’t. Date, I mean.”

“I know. Hope told me. Your friend set you up with a socialist three years ago?”

“He was a social worker. A very nice social worker. You and Hope certainly cover a lot of subjects, don’t you?”

“She likes to talk to me. I like to listen. But let’s not get off topic here. I like you, Mackenzie. I want to spend more time with you. And I get that I’m not the obvious choice for you because I don’t have a five-page community service section on my résumé...but you’ve gotta admit, I’m a changed man.”

Mackenzie thought about Dylan at Pegasus, mucking out stalls, caring for the elderly horses and bonding with the kids. Mackenzie thought of Dylan with Hope; how sweet and kind and patient he was with her. Hope loved him.

Mackenzie held up her pointer finger and her thumb an inch apart. “You’ve got about this much community service street cred.”

The timer next to the grill buzzed. Dylan checked the fish and then pulled them off the grill.

“Come on! Just look at these bad boys.” Dylan showed her the steaks. “I can’t believe you’re really going to let them go to waste.”

Mackenzie tugged at the front of her jersey; he had gone to some trouble to make her a healthy meal. “I didn’t dress right...”

“Hey—” Dylan sensed that Mackenzie was caving “—if that’s the only thing holding you back from hanging out with me tonight, then I’ll change. And we can eat out here.”

The salmon and broccoli did smell really good. And she was really hungry.

“And let’s be honest.” Dylan’s dimples appeared. He was teasing her. “You think I’m sexy when I cook, right?”

“I’ll admit...that I like a man who can cook.”

“See there?” Dylan grinned at her triumphantly. “We can build on that!”

* * *

Good as his word, Dylan had changed into shorts and a short-sleeved polo, and they dined outside with the ocean as their view. Once Mackenzie stopped focusing on the “date” aspect of the evening and just focused on Dylan, she started to relax and have a good time. They laughed as much as they talked. And there was never a lull in the conversation. They reminisced about their childhood. They talked about Hope and her future aspirations. They talked baseball and surfing and cupcakes. Mackenzie couldn’t believe it, but she was sad when the clock on her phone flipped over to nine.

“It’s not too late...how about a short walk on the beach? Work off some of this dinner?” Dylan leaned against the island while Mackenzie loaded the last dish in the dishwasher.

“I wish I could...but I’ve got an early morning at the bakery.” Then she surprised herself by adding, “Can I take a rain check?”

From the look on his face, she had surprised Dylan, as well. “Sure.”

Mackenzie slipped her tote onto her shoulder and Dylan walked her to the door. They walked down to her car together; Mackenzie pulled her keys out and unlocked the car door. Not wanting to linger in that uncomfortable “end of the night, should I go for the kiss?” moment, Mackenzie wrapped her arms around Dylan’s waist, hugged him quickly and then stepped back.

“Thank you...I’m glad that I decided not to go home early...”

Dylan rocked back on his heels. “That’s very flattering, thank you.”

Mackenzie felt an internal cringe. “That didn’t come out right.”

“That’s okay, Mackenzie.” Dylan reached out and opened her car door. “I was just teasing you.”

Mackenzie climbed behind the wheel and Dylan closed the door firmly behind her. He tapped on the window so she would roll it down.

Hands resting on the door, Dylan asked, “How ʼbout we fill that rain check tomorrow? Say, around seven? We can order in, watch a movie.”

“Okay.” Mackenzie nodded. She had just accepted a second date with Dylan without one millisecond of hesitation.

“Don’t back out,” Dylan said.

“I won’t...” Mackenzie cranked the engine. “Good night, Dylan.”

Dylan nodded his head goodbye as she rolled up the window, shifted into gear and pulled out slowly onto the darkened street. She felt odd driving away from his house—like something significant had just happened to her but she wasn’t exactly sure what. And, even the next day, as she moved through normal business at the bakery, she still wasn’t quite sure what had happened the night before. Dylan hadn’t made his thought process a secret: he wanted to see if there was a chance for the two of them, along with Hope, to become a family. That thought had never crossed her mind. But now...was Dylan onto something? Could they be a family? If it worked, wouldn’t that be the best thing for Hope?

* * *

“You’re okay to close up, Molly?” Mackenzie untied her apron and lifted it over her head.

“In my sleep, little one.” Molly continued to wipe down one of the café tables near the front of the small bakery.

Mackenzie boxed up two of the best-looking giant cupcakes in the case, and gave Molly a kiss on the cheek before she headed out. It was rare that she left the bakery early on a Saturday night, but for once she didn’t feel guilty. She felt anticipation. She had caught herself thinking about Dylan off and on all day. That just didn’t happen to her. She had never had a really big crush or even fallen in love, not the way she had seen her friends do—the head-over-heels, can’t-sleep, can’t-eat, can’t-talk-about-anything-else kind of love. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever feeling lust for anyone before. She had felt a very strong affection for her college boyfriend, but her inability to commit to Star Trek had ultimately ended their three-year relationship.

When Hope was born, her entire focus, and all of her love, was aimed at her. She didn’t care about dating or romance or marriage. She had Hope. That was enough. It wasn’t until Hope was in elementary school that Mackenzie started to think that there might be something missing in her life: intimacy. Romance. Sex. But then Hope was diagnosed with ALL and thoughts of a relationship disappeared.

“Wear your hair down this time... ” Rayna was on speakerphone.

“You’re right. My hair does look good down.”

“Are you going to wear the purple shirt?”

“Uh-uh...no. We’re walking on the beach, Ray. I can just dress like me.”

“Okay...but promise me you’ll wear something smaller than extra-extra large! Give the poor man something to look at...”

“Bye, Ray!”

“Call me later!”

Unlike the night before, Mackenzie took a little extra time getting ready. She made sure that her long-sleeved V-neck shirt didn’t have any stains and she rummaged through her drawers to find a newer pair of jeans. She tried on several pairs and finally selected the jeans that made her J.Lo booty look the best. She let her hair air-dry, leaving it thick and long and falling down her back. She had to admit, she did have beautiful hair. She dug through her messy bathroom drawer and fished out an old tube of mascara from the back. The mascara looked crusty and the brush brittle, so she gave up on that idea. But she did find a tube of lip gloss. Teeth thoroughly brushed for an extra couple of minutes, followed by a long gargle of mouthwash, Mackenzie applied lip gloss and headed out the door. This time when she left the house, there wasn’t any confusion about the night. She knew that this was a date, and she couldn’t wait to see what the night would bring.