Читать книгу Marriage On The Cards: Marry Me, Mackenzie! / A Proposal Worth Millions / Heart Surgeon, Hero...Husband? - Susan Carlisle - Страница 18
Оглавление“What do you think?” Mackenzie stood in the doorway of her room feeling naked in the short-sleeved purple blouse. It was Sunday, and they were scheduled to meet up with Dylan in an hour so they could all go out to his aunt’s farm together. She wanted to look presentable, and even though she had been having misgivings about her weekend with Dylan, she wanted to look nice for him, too.
“I picked that out.” Hope was a stylish kid. She loved jewelry and accessories; she cut pictures out of fashion magazines and couldn’t wait to wear makeup. “You look pretty, Mom.”
Mackenzie checked her reflection in the mirror again, tugged on the front of the blouse. It was strange seeing so much of her arms, and they still looked too round for her liking, but lately she’d started to think that she needed to force herself out of her baggy-fashion box. There was no doubt in her mind that Dylan’s regular compliments had boosted her body image. She still had work to do, but at least she was able to finally cut the tags off this blouse and put it on her body. Mackenzie pointed to her reflection in the mirror.
“You look good,” she said, then shut off the bathroom light and headed to the kitchen. She took a quick sip of her strong black coffee before preparing Hope’s morning medicine.
“Did you make your bed?” Mackenzie called out to Hope.
She knew that she was never going to be a complete neat freak like Dylan, but she was starting to think that a little more organization wouldn’t hurt. In fact, she was very proud of the fact that all their dinner dishes had made it directly into the dishwasher without their typical pit stop to the sink.
“Yeah.” Hope showed up looking cute as a bug in a sparkly butterfly T-shirt, cuffed jeans and lavender tennis shoes. “But why’d I have’ta start doing that now?”
Mackenzie held out the pills for Hope. “It wouldn’t hurt us to be a little neater around here...I made mine, too.”
Hope made a face at the pills.
“I know, kiddo. But you gotta take them. Down the hatch.”
Mackenzie handed Hope a glass of grape juice, watched her take her pills. When she was done, Mackenzie rinsed out the glass and put it in the dishwasher.
“You feeling okay today?”
“Uh-huh...” Hope nodded.
Mackenzie and Hope loaded into her Chevy and headed toward the bakery. She had agreed to meet Dylan there and she didn’t want to be late. During the short trip from their house to the bakery, Mackenzie couldn’t seem to get comfortable. She fiddled with the radio, the AC, her seat belt, the neckline of her blouse. She was fidgety and uncomfortable. Anxious. This would be the first time Dylan and she would be seeing each other after their weekend alone. He’d called, but she had made excuses: she was tired, she was working...bad reception, low battery. She just didn’t know what to say to him, so it was just easier to say nothing at all. The farther away she got from the weekend, the more she beat herself up for jumping into bed with him. Yes, her body had been deprived in that area for years, but her brain knew better.
And, as often happened with spur-of-the-moment libido-driven decisions, by Monday night, Mackenzie was marinating in full-blown regret. It had been a terrible idea to sleep with Dylan. Their focus, their only focus, should have been on Hope—not on each other. She needed to tell Dylan how she felt when they were face-to-face and, hopefully, the two of them could agree to refocus their attention on Hope. If the right moment materialized today, she knew that she needed to have a talk with Dylan.
* * *
Dylan arrived at the parking lot behind the bakery ahead of schedule. He was usually early. While he was waiting for Mackenzie and Hope, he decided to try his attorney’s private number. He was surprised when Ben actually answered.
“Hey, Ben! I was planning on leaving you a message.”
“Do you want me to hang up?” Ben asked.
“No.” Dylan laughed. “This is better.”
“What can I do for you, Dylan?”
“I had a chance to look over the papers you emailed. Everything looks good, exactly as we discussed.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Just send a signed copy to the office and we’ll have them in the mail to the mother this week.”
“Actually...that’s what I was calling you about. I’d like to hold off on sending the papers. Just for a little bit.”
“May I ask why?”
“I’m hoping that we can work some of this stuff out on our own. So far, things have been pretty cordial between us. But if Mackenzie gets these papers now, I think she’ll go ballistic and turn this into World War Three.”
“I see. Well, ultimately, it’s your decision.” Ben paused for a moment of thought. “Why don’t we do this...send over a signed copy and we’ll hang on to the papers until you’re ready to pull the trigger. How does that sound?”
Dylan saw Mackenzie’s Chevy pulling into the parking lot and wanted to get off the phone quickly. “That sounds like a plan, Ben. Thanks for picking up on a weekend.”
“Billable hours, my friend,” Ben said jokingly. “Billable hours.”
* * *
Hope hugged him hello and Mackenzie greeted him by handing him the keys to her Chevy. He didn’t have a car with a backseat, so Mackenzie volunteered her car. And since he had let her drive his Corvette, it was his turn to drive her Chevy. The vintage Chevy had a bench seat in front big enough to fit all three of them. He was behind the wheel, Mackenzie was in the seat by the passenger door and Hope was seated between them. Dylan had the distinct feeling that Mackenzie was glad to put some distance between them in the car, especially since she had been giving him the cold shoulder all week. He’d thought they’d had a great weekend together. She
