Marry Me, Mackenzie!
Joanna Sims
Daddy, RevealedFor a decade, Mackenzie Brand had kept her daughter’s paternity a secret. Then she unexpectedly ran into Dylan Axel, and the single mom knew there was no more hiding. Hope’s greatest wish was to meet her father. And when Dylan got a look at the beautiful ten-year-old he simply knew she was his. But he didn’t know everything….With Hope battling a terrible illness, Mackenzie needed all the support she could get. Dylan vowed to be there for them both and promised Mackenzie she could lean on him. But she was no longer the bookish girl enamoured of the dashing boy next door. Giving herself to Dylan this time meant going all in. This was their second chance. Was she brave enough to take it?
“I don’t know why I just told you all that …” Mackenzie said to fill the silence.
While Mackenzie was telling her story, it reminded Dylan of the girl she had once been. The girl he remembered so vividly from his childhood—the chubby bookworm with thick glasses. All the boys in the neighborhood ignored her, but he never had. He had never thought to analyze why. He had always just liked Mackenzie.
“Because we used to be friends,” Dylan said.
“Were we?” Mackenzie asked.
“I always thought so.” Dylan caught her gaze and held it. “And I tell you this, Mackenzie. If I had known that you were pregnant … if you had just trusted me enough to give me a chance, I never would’ve let you or Hope go through any of this stuff alone. I would have been there for you … both of you … every step of the way.”
Marry Me, Mackenzie!
Joanna Sims
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JOANNA SIMS lives in Florida with her awesome husband, Cory, and their three fabulous felines, Sebastian, Chester (aka Tubby) and Ranger. By day, Joanna works as a speech-language pathologist, and by night, she writes contemporary romance for Mills & Boon
cherish™. Joanna loves to hear from readers and invites you to stop by her website for a visit: joannasimsromance.com (http://joannasimsromance.com).
Dedicated to Aunt Gerri and Uncle Bill
You are loved more than words can say!
Contents
Cover (#u9cfeb610-bd38-5d74-aad1-a6b21d5a6593)
Introduction (#u6f1dc30b-45bb-5ec8-94c8-8d8a966ca3a0)
Title Page (#u2c330cf6-efdb-5077-8fd2-5cd44b29f0bf)
About the Author (#u53651f35-5e27-5254-8af0-fa2564838976)
Dedication (#ua3afb0e0-009d-5d05-bfd7-9cb4d6490eee)
Chapter One (#ulink_2a19cb0c-9685-5c7e-899e-046e132fec70)
Chapter Two (#ulink_8239402d-11a1-5a53-9d36-462c1204a190)
Chapter Three (#ulink_3abc529b-43a0-533e-9eb0-8053d53b3ecd)
Chapter Four (#ulink_872ccc3a-0c49-54bc-9292-74089d1e9394)
Chapter Five (#ulink_8516f347-84c8-5fdd-ab48-afb8f7defd71)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_13e22d60-b16b-5179-a0b2-63dccb3e2423)
Mackenzie Brand parallel parked her 1960 Chevy sedan and shut off the engine. She leaned against the steering wheel and looked through the windshield at the swanky condos that lined Mission Beach, California. She checked the address that her cousin, Jordan, had given her and matched it with the address on the white, trilevel condo on the left. With a sigh, she unbuckled her seat belt and slipped the key out of the ignition.
“All right. Not exactly your crowd. But a job’s a job and a favor’s a favor.” Mackenzie got out of her car, locked the door and dropped the keys into her Go Green recycling tote bag. She could hear a mixture of classic rock, loud talking and laughing as she walked quickly to the front door. It sounded like the Valentine’s Day party that Jordan was throwing with her fiancé, Ian, was already in full swing.
Mackenzie rang the doorbell twice and then knocked on the door. While she waited, she stared down at her holey black Converse sneakers. They had passed shabby chic several months ago—definitely time to get a new pair. After a few minutes spent contemplating her pitiful tennis shoes, Mackenzie pressed the doorbell again. When no one opened the door, Mackenzie turned around to head to the beach side of the condo. She was about to step down the first step when she heard the door open.
“Hey!” Dylan Axel swung the front door open wide. “Where’re you going?”
Dylan’s voice, a voice Mackenzie hadn’t heard in a very long time, reverberated up her spine like an old forgotten song. Mackenzie simultaneously twisted her torso toward Dylan while taking a surprised step back. Her eyes locked with his for a split second before she lost her balance and began to fall backward.
“Hey...” Dylan saw the pretty brunette at his door begin to fall. He sprang forward and grabbed one of her flailing arms. “Careful!”
Silent and wide-eyed, Mackenzie clutched the front of Dylan’s shirt to steady herself. Dylan pulled her body toward his and for a second or two, she was acutely aware of everything about the man: the soapy scent of his skin, the strong, controlled grasp of his fingers on her arm, the dark chest hair visible just above the top button of his designer shirt.
“Are you okay?” Dylan asked. He didn’t know who she was, but she smelled like a sugar cookie and had beautiful Elizabeth Taylor eyes.
If he hadn’t caught her, she would have fallen for sure. Could have seriously injured herself. And Mackenzie’s body knew it. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her skin felt prickly and hot, and her equilibrium was off-kilter. Mackenzie closed her eyes for a moment, took in a steadying breath, before she slowly released the death grip she had on his shirt.
“I’m fine,” Mackenzie said stiffly. “Thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
Mackenzie nodded. She forced herself to focus her eyes straight ahead on the single silver hair on Dylan’s chest instead of looking up into his face.
“You can let go now.” Mackenzie tugged her arm away from Dylan’s hand.
Dylan immediately released her arm, hands up slightly as if he were being held up at gunpoint. “Sorry about that.”
Mackenzie self-consciously tugged on the front of her oversize Nothin’ But Cupcakes T-shirt. “No, I’m sorry.”
Dylan smiled at her. “Let’s just call it even, okay?”
That was classic Dylan; always trying to smooth things over with a smile. He wasn’t as lanky as he had been in his early twenties. His body had filled out, but he was fit and had the lean body of an avid California surfer. And he still had that boyish, easygoing smile and all-American good looks. Even back in middle school, Dylan had been popular with absolutely everyone. Male or female, it didn’t matter. He had always been effortlessly charming and approachable. Right then, on Dylan’s porch, the last ten years melted away for Mackenzie, but she knew that he obviously hadn’t recognized her.
Still smiling, Dylan stuck out his hand to her. “I’m Dylan. And you are?”
Instead of taking his offered hand or responding, Mackenzie stared at him mindlessly. It felt as if all of her blood had drained out of her head and rushed straight to her toes.
I’m not ready for this...
Dylan’s smile faded slightly. He gave her a curious look and withdrew his hand. “You must be one of Jordan’s friends. Why don’t you come in so we can track ʼer down.”
Mackenzie was screaming in her mind, demanding that her stubborn legs take a step forward as she plastered a forced smile on her face.
“Thank you.” She squeaked out the platitude as she skirted by Dylan and into the condo.
“Mackenzie!” Jordan wound her way through the crowd of people gathered in the living room and threw her arms around her cousin. “Thank God you could come! You’re the best, do you know that?”
“Jordan!” Relieved, Mackenzie hugged her cousin. “Okay—first things first—I have to see this ring in person.”
Jordan held out her hand and wiggled her finger so her large cushion-cut blue diamond engagement ring caught the light.
“Jordan, it’s beautiful.” Mackenzie held Jordan’s left hand loosely while she admired the large blue diamond.
“I know, right? It’s ridiculous.” Jordan beamed. “It’s way too extravagant. Ian really shouldn’t have...but I’m glad he did.”
“Dylan.” Jordan draped her arm across Mackenzie’s shoulders. “This is my awesome cousin, Mackenzie. She owns Nothin’ But Cupcakes, home of the famous giant cupcakes. Look it up.” To Mackenzie she said, “Thank you again for bringing us emergency cupcakes.”
“Of course.” Mackenzie kept her eyes trained on her cousin in order to avoid making eye contact with Dylan. For the first time in a long time, she wished she still had her thick tortoiseshell glasses to hide behind.
“Mackenzie—this’s Dylan Axel... Dylan is the Axel in Sterling and Axel Photography. He’s also a certified investment planner. He totally has the Midas touch with money, so if you ever need financial advice for your business, he’s your man.”
Mackenzie had to make a concerted effort to breathe normally and braced herself for Dylan to recognize her. But when she did finally shift her eyes to his, Dylan still didn’t show even a flicker of recognition. He didn’t seem to have the first clue that he was being introduced to a woman he had known in the biblical sense of the word. Instead, he looked between them with a slightly perplexed expression on his good-looking face. No doubt, he was wondering how she had managed to sneak into gorgeous Jordan’s gene pool.
“Now I know your name.” Dylan held out his hand to her once more. “Mackenzie.”
The way Dylan lingered on her name sent her heart palpitating again. He was looking at her in the way a man looks at a woman he finds attractive. Dylan had never looked at her this way before. It was...unsettling. And yet, validating. It was undeniable proof that she had truly managed to eradicate the obese preteen with Coke-bottle glasses and tangled, mousy hair that she had once been.
Mackenzie forced herself to maintain the appearance of calm when she slipped her hand into his. She quickly shook his hand and then tucked her hand away in her pocket. Inside her pocket, where no one could see, Mackenzie balled up her fingers into a tight fist.
Oblivious to her cousin’s discomfort, Jordan rested her arm across Mackenzie’s shoulders. “Do you need help bringing in the cupcakes?”
Mackenzie nodded. “You wanted a ton. You got a ton.”
Jordan walked with Mackenzie through the still-open front door. She tossed over her shoulder, “Give us a hand, Dylan, will you?”
“We can manage,” Mackenzie protested immediately.
“I’m not about to let you ladies do all the heavy lifting by yourselves,” Dylan said as he trailed behind them.
As they approached her car, Dylan whistled appreciatively. It was no surprise; men always commented on her car.
“The 1960 Chevrolet Biscayne Delivery Sedan painted with the original factory turquoise from back in the day. Nice.” Dylan ran his hand lovingly over the hood of her car. “She’s yours?”
Mackenzie nodded quickly before she walked to the back of the delivery sedan; she unlocked, and then lifted up, the heavy back hatch of the vehicle.
“Who did this restoration?” Dylan asked as he leaned down and looked at the interior of the Chevy.
“A place up near Sacramento.” Mackenzie wanted to be vague. Her brother, Jett, who had restored her Chevy at his hot-rod shop, had been friends with Dylan back in middle school. In fact, the last time Mackenzie had seen Dylan Axel was at Jett’s wedding nearly eleven years ago.
“Well—they did an insane job. This car is beautiful. I’d really like to take a look under her hood.”
“Hey!” Jordan poked her head around the back of the car. “Are you gonna help us out here, Axel, or what?”
“I’m helping.” Dylan laughed as he strolled to the back of the vehicle. “But you can’t blame a guy for looking, now, can you?”
“Here. Make yourself useful, will ya?” Jordan rolled her eyes at him as she handed him a large box of cupcakes. “And, no, I don’t get the obsession with cars that went out of production decades ago. They don’t make them anymore for a reason. Now, if you want to get excited about a motorcycle, I can totally relate to that!”
Dylan took the box from Jordan but smiled at Mackenzie. “Well—your cousin gets it, don’t you?”
Mackenzie looked directly into Dylan’s oh-so-familiar crystal-clear green eyes for a split second. “I get it.”
“See!” Dylan smiled triumphantly at Jordan. “She gets it.”
“Well—sure. Her dad and brother raised Mackenzie in a garage. Basically, she’s been brainwashed. No offense, cuz.”
“None taken.” Mackenzie balanced the large cupcake box in the crook of her arm while she pulled down the heavy hatch door. Mackenzie gave the hatch door a bump with her hip to shut it completely.
“Okay,” Mackenzie said, wanting to speed things along. “Let’s get the troops out of the sun.”
Dylan kept pace with her as they walked back to the condo. “I haven’t heard someone say that since I was a kid.”
“Really?” Mackenzie pretended to be fascinated with the neighbor’s house. “I hear it all the time.”
That was one of her father’s favorite phrases; no doubt, Dylan had heard him use it a zillion times before he moved away from the neighborhood. Her father had restored vintage cars as a hobby in the garage behind her childhood home, and all of the neighborhood boys, including Dylan, had loved to hang out with him.
“This works.” Jordan put her box down on the large marble slab island that separated the kitchen from the great room.
Mackenzie put her box down next to Jordan’s and started to formulate an exit strategy. Dylan opened the top of his box and reached for a cupcake. Jordan slapped his hand playfully and put the box lid back down.
“Get your sticky paws off the cupcakes, mister! Ian isn’t even here yet! I can’t believe he’s late for his own party.”
“I’m still surprised he agreed to this at all,” Dylan said. “You know Ian hates crowds.”
“No. You’re right. He does. But I’m determined to pull that man out of his shell kicking and screaming if I have to.” Jordan pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her dark-wash skinny jeans. To Mackenzie she said, “Give me a sec, okay? I want to see what’s holding him up. The two of you haven’t even met each other yet.”
Jordan plugged one ear and held the phone to the other as she headed outside to call her fiancé. Even though there was a large group of people milling around in the great room, using it as a pass-through to the bathrooms or the deck outside, at the moment, Mackenzie and Dylan were the only two people in the kitchen. Dylan sent her a conspiratorial wink as he lifted the box top and snagged one of her giant cupcakes.
Dylan devoured the devil’s food cupcake in three bites. “These are incredible. Did you make these?”
Mackenzie nodded. “There’s another cupcake designer who works for me, but these are mine.”
Dylan grabbed a second cupcake and sent Mackenzie a questioning look. “I can count on you not to tell Jordan, right?”
“She is my cousin,” Mackenzie said as she scratched her arm under her long-sleeved shirt. Being around Dylan again was making her skin feel itchy and hot.
“Good call,” Dylan said before he bit into the second cupcake. “You gotta pick family over some random guy you just met. I understand.”
Before she could respond, a statuesque Cameron Diaz look-alike in a tiny bikini breezed into the kitchen like she owned it.
“Babe,” Jenna said as she dropped a quick kiss on Dylan’s cheek, “we’re running out of ice out there already.”
“Okay. I’ll run down to the store and grab some more,” Dylan said before he took another bite.
Jenna opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can of diet cola. She popped the top, took a sip and put the can on the counter.
“Hi,” she said to Mackenzie and then moved on.
Dylan gave his girlfriend a “look” and handed her a coaster to put under the can. Jenna rolled her eyes, but put the coaster beneath the can. Then she crossed her arms over her chest, her pretty face registering a combination of disbelief and disgust.
“Babe—what are you eating?” Jenna frowned at him.
“Cupcakes.” Dylan took another bite of the giant cupcake and pushed a box toward his girlfriend. “Want one?”
“Are you insane?” Jenna asked, horrified. “Carbs, Dylan! I’ve got an audition tomorrow in LA—the last thing I want to be is all puffy and bloated. I don’t know how you can put that poison into your body anyway.”
“Happily.” Dylan winked at Mackenzie.
“Whatever.” Jenna walked to the door. She paused in the doorway and yelled, “Ice!”
“Got it.” Dylan didn’t look at Jenna as he wolfed down the final bite of the cupcake.
Instead of leaving to get ice, Dylan stayed with her in the kitchen. “So—did you grow up in Montana, too?”
Mackenzie looked up at Dylan—one part of her wanted to exit stage left without saying a word, but the other part wanted to rip off the Band-Aid and get the inevitable out of the way. It wasn’t a matter of if she would confront Dylan about their past—it was a matter of when. She was impatient by nature, so perhaps, when she should bring up their past was right now.
Gripping the side of the kitchen counter to hold her body steady, Mackenzie asked quietly, “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
Dylan’s brow dropped and a question mark came into his eyes. He stared at her face hard, and she could almost see the wheels in his brain turning, trying to place her.
“You’re not going to believe this, you guys.” Jordan threw her hands up into the air as she walked into the kitchen. “He’s stuck at the studio—his editor needs him to do something for the new book. He won’t be here for at least another hour.” Jordan’s shoulders sagged as she asked Mackenzie, “You can hang out that long, can’t you? I’ve been so busy with my gallery show that I’ve hardly spent any time with you—”
“I really can’t stay.” Mackenzie shook her head. “I have to get back to the bakery.”
“What a drag.” Jordan sighed. “I know, I know...business first. Ian’s exactly the same way.”
“I’ll text you,” Mackenzie promised. “We’ll figure out when we can sync our calendars.”
“Okay. It’s a plan,” Jordan agreed as she hugged her cousin one last time. “Give Hope a kiss for me.”
“I will.” Mackenzie glanced nervously at Dylan, who hadn’t stopped staring at her. Jordan’s phone rang. She checked the number. “It’s the caterer. Let me grab this first and then I’ll walk you out.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dylan, still staring hard at Mackenzie’s face, said to Jordan, “I’ll walk her out.”
“You’re all right, Dylan—I don’t care what they say about you.” Jordan punched Dylan lightly on the arm, and then gave Mackenzie one last parting hug before she answered the call.
Mackenzie could feel Dylan’s intent gaze on her as they walked the short distance to the front door. Dylan opened the door for her.
“You say we’ve met?” Dylan asked curiously after he shut the front door behind him.
Dylan studied the petite, curvy woman walking beside him and he tried to figure out who she was before she had to tell him. He had had a lot of drunken hookups when he was in college and he hoped that she wasn’t one of them.
It seemed to Mackenzie that her heart was pumping way too much blood, too quickly, through her veins. She was light-headed and for a split second, as she was coming down the front steps, it felt as if she might just pass out.
This is happening. After all these years. This is really happening.
“Yes. We’ve met,” Mackenzie said as she walked quickly to her car, unlocked the door and then opened it so she would have something to lean on.
“You were good friends with my brother, Jett, back in middle school.” Mackenzie gripped the frame of the open car door so hard that her fingers started to hurt.
“Jett...?” Dylan shook his head slightly as if he didn’t connect with the name, but then recognition slowly started to dawn as a smile started to move across his face.
“Wait a minute!” Dylan exclaimed. “Big Mac? Is that you?”
Mackenzie blanched. No one had called her that horrible nickname since high school.
“I don’t like to be called that,” she said. When she was growing up, no one called her “Mackenzie.” Jett and her friends always called her “Mac.” Cruel kids at school had added the “Big” to it and the horrible nickname had followed her like a black cloud until she graduated from high school.
“Hey—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He couldn’t stop staring at her face. This was not the Mackenzie he remembered. The thick, old-lady glasses were gone, her hair was darker and longer, and she had slimmed down. She wasn’t skinny; she was curvy, which was a pretty rare occurrence in California. The word voluptuous popped into his head to describe her now.
“Just don’t call me that anymore, okay?”
“Yeah. Sure. Never again, I promise,” Dylan promised, his eyes smiling at her. “Man. I can’t believe it...Jett’s little sister! You look great.”
“Thanks,” Mackenzie said.
“Man...” Dylan crossed his arms loosely in front of his body and shook his head. “How long has it been? Five, six years?”
“Ten,” Mackenzie said too quickly and then added more nonchalantly, “Give or take.”
“Ten years.” Dylan nodded as he tried to remember the last time he had seen her. When it hit him, he snapped his fingers. “Jett’s wedding, right? I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you right away—but, in my defense, Mackenzie, you’ve changed.”
“Yeah, well...losing a hundred pounds will do that to a person,” Mackenzie said. She was watching him closely; it still didn’t seem to be registering with him that they had slept together after Jett’s reception.
“A hundred pounds?” he repeated, surprised. “I don’t remember you needing to lose that much.”
“You’d be one of the few.” Mackenzie heard that old defensiveness creep into her tone.
Several seconds of silence slipped by before Dylan asked, “So—how’s Jett doing nowadays? Still married?”
“Uh-uh.” Mackenzie shook her head. “The marriage didn’t work out. But he’s got custody of both kids, so that’s the upside of that situation.”
“Does he live around here, too?”
“No. He owns a hot-rod shop up in Paradise, California. He wanted to be closer to Dad and he thought a small town would be better for the girls.”
“A hot-rod shop, huh? So wait a minute—did Jett do this restoration?” Dylan asked with a nod toward her car.
“Yep.” Mackenzie nodded proudly. Her older brother had managed to build a lucrative career out of a passion he shared with their dad.
“Man—I’m telling you what, he did a fantastic job on this Chevy. I really respect that he kept it true to the original design. I’ve gotta tell you, this’s pretty amazing timing running into you like this because I’ve been looking for someone to restore my Charger. I gotta get her out of storage and back out on the road.”
“You should check out his website—High-Octane Hot Rods.”
“High-Octane Hot Rods. I’ll do that.” Dylan hadn’t stopped smiling at her since he’d realized she was Jett’s little sister. “So, tell me about you, Mackenzie. Are you married? Got any kids?”
Instead of answering his question, Mackenzie slipped behind the wheel of the car. “Listen—I wish I could spend more time catching up, but I’ve really gotta go.”
“No problem,” Dylan said easily, his hands resting on the door frame so he could close the door for her. “We’re bound to run into each other again.”
Mackenzie sent him a fleeting smile while she cranked the engine and shifted into gear. Fate had unexpectedly forced her hand and now she was just going to have to figure out how to deal with it.
Chapter Two (#ulink_c2ecb38d-c08b-5ab0-973e-2af741ace23f)
Once out of Dylan’s neighborhood, Mackenzie drove to the nearest public parking lot. She pulled into an empty space away from the other cars, fished her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed her best friend’s number with shaky fingers.
“Rayna...?”
“Mackenzie? What’s wrong? Why do you sound like that? Did something happen to Hope?”
“No.” Mackenzie slouched against the door. “She’s fine.”
“Then what’s wrong? You sound like something’s wrong.”
“I just ran into Dylan.” There was a tremor in her voice.
“Dylan who?”
“What do you mean, Dylan who?” Mackenzie asked, irritated. “Dylan Axel.”
“What?” Now she had Rayna’s attention. “You’re kidding!”
“No.” Mackenzie rubbed her temple. She could feel a migraine coming on. “I’m not kidding.”
“Where in the world did you run into him?”
“At his condo. In Mission Beach.”
“He lives in Mission Beach?”
“Apparently so.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Delivering cupcakes to Jordan’s fiancé’s birthday party,” Mackenzie said as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “Dylan is Ian’s best friend.”
Rayna didn’t respond immediately. After a few silent seconds, her friend said, “Oh. Wow. Are you okay?”
“I feel like I’m suffocating.”
“Anxiety,” Rayna surmised.
“Probably.” Mackenzie put her free hand over her rapidly beating heart.
“Just close your eyes and take in long, deep breaths. You’ll feel better in a minute.”
“Okay...”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m parked. I didn’t feel...stable enough to drive.”
“That was smart,” Rayna said. “Look—just take your time, pull yourself together and then come over. We’ll figure this out. Hope’s still at the barn?”
“Yeah. I pick her up at seven, after they bed down the horses.”
“Charlie’ll be home by the time you get here—we’ll commiserate over pasta,” Rayna said in her typical take-charge tone.
“Thank you.” Comfort food with friends sounded like a great idea.
“And, Mackenzie?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s going to be okay,” Rayna said. “God is answering our prayers.”
Rayna was one of the pastors for her nondenominational church of like-minded hippies and saw all life’s events through the lens of a true believer.
“Hope’s prayers,” Mackenzie clarified. “Hope’s prayers.”
“Hope’s prayers are our prayers. Aren’t they?” Rayna countered gently. “Listen—I’ll put on a pot of coffee and I’ll see you when you get here. Be safe.”
Mackenzie hung up the phone but didn’t crank the engine immediately. Her mind was racing but her body was motionless. After ten minutes of taking long, deep breaths, Mackenzie finally felt calm enough to drive and set off for her friend’s Balboa Park bungalow. Rayna was right. Her daughter’s prayers were her prayers. She just hadn’t been prepared for this prayer to be answered so quickly.
* * *
“Little one!” Molita Jean-Baptiste, the bakery manager, poked her head into the kitchen. “There’s a young man out here who wants to talk to you.”
“Okay,” Mackenzie said as she slid a large pan of carrot-cake cupcakes into the oven. “I’ll be right there.”
Mackenzie closed the door of the industrial baking oven and then wiped her hands on a towel before she headed for the front of the bakery. She put a welcoming, professional smile on her face as she pushed the swinging doors apart and walked through. But her smile dropped for a split second when she saw Dylan standing next to one of the display counters.
“Hi,” Dylan greeted her with his friendly, boyish smile. “Nice place.”
“Thank you.” Mackenzie glanced over at Molita who was restocking the cases and pretending to mind her own business. “Are you here to order cupcakes?”
“No.” Dylan laughed. “I’m here to see you.”
“Oh.” Mackenzie frowned. “Okay.”
For the last week, she had lost countless hours of sleep trying to figure out what to do about Dylan. And after so many sleepless nights, she still hadn’t figured out how to blindside the man with a ten-year-old daughter.
“Would you like something to eat, young man?” Molita asked. Haitian-born and in her sixties now, Molita was as round as she was tall. Whether Molita was having a day of aches and pains or not, she always greeted the customers like family. She was the backbone of Nothin’ But Cupcakes, and Mackenzie often joked that customers came to see Molita as much as they came for the cupcakes.
“No, thank you.” Dylan put his hand on his flat stomach. “I’m trying to watch my girlish figure.”
“Well...” Molita smiled warmly at Dylan. “You’ll let me know if you change your mind. I just put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
Dylan thanked Molita for the offer and then asked in a lowered voice, “Is there someplace we can talk?”
“Um...yeah. We can talk in my office, I suppose. But I only have a minute.”
“This won’t take too long,” Dylan said.
“I’ll be right back, Moll. I’m just going to step into my office for a minute or two.”
“You know I’ll call ya if I need’ja,” Molita called out from behind the counter.
Dylan followed her to the office. She didn’t typically take anyone to the office, and it struck her, when she opened the door, just how tiny and cluttered it really was.
“Sorry about the mess.” Mackenzie shuffled some papers around in a halfhearted attempt to straighten up. “Believe it or not, I have a system in here...”
“I’m not worried about it.” Dylan closed the door behind him. If Jenna didn’t use a coaster under a glass, it bugged him. But, for whatever reason, Mackenzie’s untidy office didn’t bother him so much.
Dylan squeezed himself into the small chair wedged in the corner on the other side of Mackenzie’s desk.
“It smells really good in here.” Dylan shifted uncomfortably, his knees pressed against the back of the desk.
Mackenzie hastily shoved some papers in a drawer. “Does it?”
“It does.” Dylan looked around the office. “Now I know why you smell like a sugar cookie.”
Surprised, Mackenzie slammed the drawer shut and stopped avoiding the inevitable eye contact with Dylan.
When Mackenzie looked at him with those unusual lavender-blue eyes, Dylan felt an unfamiliar tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach. There was something about Mackenzie’s eyes that captivated him. He hadn’t been able to get those eyes out of his head since the party.
“So...” Mackenzie said after an awkward lull. “What can I do for you, Dylan?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the framed picture of her daughter, Hope, and resisted the urge to turn it away from Dylan.
“Actually...” Dylan tried to cross one leg over the other in the tight space and failed. “I wanted to do something for you.”
Mackenzie pushed her long sleeves up to her elbows. “What’s that?”
Dylan took the picture of Hope off the desk. “Cute kid. Yours?”
“Yes.” Mackenzie’s pulse jumped. “That’s my daughter, Hope, at her fourth birthday party.”
Mackenzie waited, anxiety twisting her gut, and wondered if Dylan would recognize his own flesh and blood in that picture. When he didn’t, part of her was relieved and the other part was disappointed. Dylan put the picture back on the shelf without ever realizing that Hope was his. Mackenzie moved the frame to her side of the desk and turned it away from Dylan.
“Is Brand your married name? I remember you as Bronson.” Dylan glanced down at the ring finger of her left hand.
“No.” Mackenzie shook her head. “I decided to take my mom’s maiden name when Hope was born. I wanted Hope to truly be her namesake.”
Dylan’s gaze was direct as he asked, “So, you’re not married...?”
“No.” Mackenzie wasn’t subtle about looking up at the clock on the wall. As much as she knew that she needed to talk to Dylan about Hope, this wasn’t the right time. They had three catering gigs set for the evening, and the afternoon lunch crowd would be lining up soon. She was already struggling to make payroll; she couldn’t afford to lose one sale.
“Dylan...look, I don’t mean to be rude...” Mackenzie started to say.
Dylan held up his hands and smiled sheepishly. “Okay...okay. I’ll admit it. I’m stalling. It’s just that, what I wanted to say to you seemed like a good idea this morning, but now...”
Mackenzie leaned forward on her arms and waited for Dylan to continue. Whatever it was that he wanted to say was making him turn red in the face and shift nervously in his chair. He had turned out to be a nice-looking man, with his dark brown hair and vivid green eyes. But Dylan wasn’t classically handsome. He wasn’t a pretty boy. Dylan’s nose had been broken when they were kids and it hadn’t healed back completely straight. There was a Y-shaped scar directly under his left eye from the time he’d caught a baseball with his face during a Little League game. These little imperfections didn’t detract from his good looks for Mackenzie; they enhanced them.
“All right.” Dylan rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just going to say what I came here to say. I owe you an apology, Mackenzie.”
Mackenzie’s chair squeaked loudly when she sat back. “Why in the world would you need to apologize to me?”
“Because...” Dylan looked at her directly in the eyes. “I remember what happened between us the night of Jett’s wedding.”
Mackenzie ran her hand over her leg beneath the desk and gripped her knee hard with her fingers. “Oh.”
“Obviously that wasn’t the sort of thing that I wanted to bring up while we were standing on the street.”
“No.” Mackenzie shook her head first and then nodded in agreement. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
“But...I didn’t want you to think that I had forgotten about...after the reception...”
“We both had a lot to drink that night...” Mackenzie said faintly.
“Yes—we did. But, I still think I owe you an apology...” Dylan leaned forward. “You were Jett’s little sister, and no matter how much I had to drink that night, I shouldn’t have...taken advantage of you.”
“Taken advantage of me?” Mackenzie asked incredulously. “You didn’t take advantage of me, Dylan. I knew exactly what I was doing.”
“You had just broken up with your boyfriend...” Dylan said.
“And you had just broken off your engagement...” Mackenzie countered. “I think we both need to just give each other a break about that night, okay?”
Dylan took a deep breath in as he thought about her words. Then he said, his expression pensive, “I should’ve called you, Mackenzie. After that night, I should’ve called you.”
“And said what?”
“I don’t know...” Dylan shrugged his shoulders. “I could’ve checked on you, made sure you were okay.” He looked down at his hands for a second before he looked back up at her. “I should’ve let you know that I’d gotten back with Christa. I look back and I think maybe I used to be kind of an insensitive jerk...I know I can’t apologize to everyone, but at least I have a chance to apologize to you.”
“Well...” Mackenzie crossed her arms in front of her body. “I appreciate the apology, Dylan. I do. But, I never thought that you’d wronged me in any way. And I don’t ever remember you being a jerk, at least not to me. You were the only one of my brother’s friends who never ignored me. You never treated me like the weird fat girl.”
“I never saw you that way,” Dylan said, surprised. “And it’d make me feel better if you’d accept my apology...”
“Then I accept.” It felt as if she just might be laying the groundwork for him to accept her apology later. “Of course I accept.”
“Good.” Dylan smiled at her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Mackenzie stood up. “Listen—I’m sorry that it seems like I’m always cutting things short, but...”
“No. No. That’s okay.” Dylan’s chair knocked into the wall when he stood up. “I’m holding you up from work. But before I take off, I really want to show you something outside. It’ll only take a second, I promise. And, trust me. You’re gonna want to see what I have to show you.”
“Okay. But then I really need to get back to work. I have a ton of special orders to fill.” Mackenzie walked through the door that Dylan held open for her. “And let me tell you, there’s a seedy underbelly of sugar addicts in San Diego and they all start to line up for a lunchtime fix.” Mackenzie stopped at the counter and checked on Molita. “Are you doing okay, Moll?”
“Don’t you worry about me, now. I’ve got everything under control.” Molita sprayed glass cleaner on the front of the display case. “You go handle your business.”
“I’ll be right back,” Mackenzie said.
“I wanted to show you my baby.” Dylan held open the bakery door for her. “My girlfriend doesn’t understand old school, but I knew you’d appreciate her.”
Mackenzie stepped onto the sidewalk, but halted in her tracks just outside the door. “Is that what I think it is?”
Dylan smiled triumphantly at her as he walked over to his car. “Didn’t I tell you you’d want to see her?”
Mackenzie couldn’t take her eyes off Dylan’s rare, vintage car. This car could easily sell for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. “You do know that this is the stuff of legends, right?”
“You know I do,” Dylan said. “And you know exactly what you’re looking at, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. I took Old School 101 with Dad and Jett...which I aced, by the way,” Mackenzie bragged as she walked over to his car. “This sweet girl is a 1963 split-back Chevy Corvette. Super rare because the split window went out of production in 1964.”
“You got it.” Dylan’s smile broadened.
“Basically, the Holy Grail.” Mackenzie ran her hand along the curved hood of the car.
“That’s right.” Dylan nodded his head, his arms crossed loosely in front of him. “See? I knew you’d be excited to see her.”
“You have no idea.” Mackenzie walked around to the back of the car. “Dylan—this’s all original. Jett would die to get his hands on this car. She’s not for sale, is she?”
“Not a chance.” Dylan shook his head as he walked up to stand beside her. “But I really want Jett to restore my Charger.”
Mackenzie found herself smiling at Dylan. “That would mean a lot to Jett, Dylan. It really would.”
“I was thinking about giving the Charger this same silver-flake paint job with flat black accents. What do you think?”
Mackenzie’s phone rang. “Hold that thought.”
“Sure.” Dylan leaned casually against his car.
“Hi, Aggie.” Mackenzie leaned her head down and plugged one ear. “Wait a minute—what happened?” Mackenzie’s face turned pale. “Tell Hope I’m on my way.”
“Everything okay?” Dylan asked.
“No.” Mackenzie headed back to the bakery. “My daughter got hurt at the barn.”
“I hope she’s okay,” Dylan called after her.
“Thanks.” Mackenzie pulled the bakery door open. Inside the bakery now, she stopped and threw up her hands in the air. “Tamara has my car! Molly—did you drive today?”
“My granddaughter dropped me off.” Molita put a cupcake in a box for a customer.
Mackenzie made a quick U-turn and pushed the bakery door back open. “Molly—I have to go get Hope. Hold down the fort, okay?”
“What happened?” Molly asked, concerned.
“She hit her head at the barn.” Mackenzie pushed the door open. “I’ll call you later with an update as soon as I have one!”
Dylan had his blinker on and he was about to ease out onto the street when he saw Mackenzie bolt out of the cupcake shop and run toward his car. He braked and rolled down the passenger window.
Mackenzie bent down so she could see Dylan. “Can you give me a ride? My car is out with the deliveries.”
Dylan reached over, unlocked the door and opened it for Mackenzie. “Hop in.”
* * *
The thirty-minute ride out to the barn was a quiet one. Mackenzie’s entire body was tense, her brow wrinkled with worry; seemingly lost in her own internal dialogue, she only spoke to give him directions. And he didn’t press her for conversation. He imagined that if he were in her shoes, he wouldn’t be in the mood for small talk, either.
“Turn left right here.” Mackenzie pointed to a dirt side road up ahead. “You’ll have to go slow in this car—with all the rain lately, there are potholes galore on the way to the barn. Not many Corvettes brave this road.”
“I can see why not.” Dylan slowed way down as he turned onto the muddy dirt road. He looked at the large sign at the entrance of the road.
“Pegasus Therapeutic Riding—is that where we’re heading?”
“Yes.” Mackenzie unbuckled her seat belt.
Dylan glanced over at Mackenzie. “What’s wrong with your daughter?”
“There’s nothing wrong with Hope. She’s perfect,” Mackenzie snapped. After a second, she added in a tempered tone, “Hope loves horses and she loves helping people. Volunteering here is what she wants to do with her free time.”
“She must take after you.” Dylan drove up onto the grassy berm in order to avoid a large pothole. “I remember you were always busy with a cause...collecting canned goods and clothing for the homeless, volunteering at the animal shelter...you were never satisfied with playing video games and hanging out at the beach like the rest of us...”
Mackenzie’s shoulders stiffened. She had been picked on mercilessly when she was a kid about her causes. “There’s nothing wrong with caring about your community.”
Dylan jerked the wheel to the left to avoid another pothole. He glanced quickly at Mackenzie; her arms were crossed, her jaw was clenched. He’d managed to put her on the defensive in record time. Usually he was pretty good at navigating his way around women.
“I meant it as a compliment,” Dylan clarified. “And Hope sounds like a really good kid.”
“She is.” Mackenzie stared straight ahead. “She’s the best kind of kid.”
“How old did you say she was?”
“I didn’t say.” Mackenzie spotted the weathered brown barn up ahead. “You can pull in right there between the van and the truck...”
As Dylan eased the car to a stop, Mackenzie already had her hand on the door handle. With her free hand, she touched his arm briefly. “Thank you, Dylan. You’ve managed to rescue me twice in one week.”
“Do you want me to wait here for you?” Dylan shifted into park.
“No!” Mackenzie pushed the door open and climbed out of the low-slung car. “I mean...no. That’s okay. You’ve already done enough.”
Dylan leaned down so he could see her face. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Really. We’ll be fine.” Mackenzie closed the car door and hoped that she had also closed the subject of Dylan sticking around. Now that she was at the barn, she couldn’t imagine what she had been thinking. This was not the time or place for Dylan to meet his daughter. Something that life-altering took planning. And she didn’t have a plan. Not for this.
Dylan shut off the engine, pulled the keys out of the ignition and jumped out of the car. He wanted to follow Mackenzie, but she was sending out some pretty obvious back-off signals.
“I could just hang right here....”
Mackenzie spun around and walked backward a couple of steps. “I’ll catch a ride from someone here. Really. I’m sure you have a day.”
Dylan stared after Mackenzie. It didn’t seem right just to drop her off and then leave, no matter what she said. But, on the other hand, she hadn’t exactly been diplomatic about telling him to shove off. Reluctantly, Dylan climbed back into his car and shut the door. He rolled down the window, slipped the key in the ignition and turned the engine over. Mackenzie had been right about one thing. He did have a day. And he needed to get back to it.
Chapter Three (#ulink_1a00fc32-5f0d-58f3-a473-ebd40a8ec4d3)
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?”
Chapter Four (#ulink_02ed97bb-2c7c-565c-a324-08ef544c0f67)
Mackenzie sat like a statue on the edge of the love seat, but bit her lip so hard that she could taste blood on her tongue. Once again, fate had snatched control away from her grasp. She had wanted to broach the subject with Dylan gently, calmly, at the right moment and in the right setting. This wasn’t how she wanted it to go at all.
Dylan waited impatiently at the other end of the line. But he had heard Mackenzie suck in her breath when he asked the question, followed by silence. For him, he already had his answer. Hope was his daughter.
“Mackenzie.” Dylan repeated the question, “Is Hope my child?”
Mackenzie stared in the direction of Hope’s room, grateful that she had gone to bed early. “I...” She whispered into the phone, “I don’t think that we should discuss this over the phone.”
“You’re probably right,” Dylan agreed. “You pick the place and time and I’ll be there.”
“I can meet after work tomorrow.” Mackenzie pushed herself to a stand. “But I don’t know where we should meet.”
“Let’s meet at my place.” Dylan’s forehead was in his hand, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Mackenzie pressed her back against the wall and crossed one arm tightly over her midsection. “I’ll get my friends to watch Hope. I can be at your place around six-fifteen, six-thirty.”
“I’ll see you then.” Dylan opened his eyes. “Good night, Mackenzie.”
“Good night.” Mackenzie touched the end button and slowly slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. She wrapped her arms tightly around her legs and rested her forehead on her knees. From the moment she had held Hope in her arms at the hospital, she had felt, like a splinter under her skin, this day would eventually come. And now that it had, she felt undeniably shell-shocked and strangely...relieved.
But with the relief came another strain of uncertainty. She prayed for Hope’s sake that Dylan wouldn’t reject her. But what if Dylan decided that he wanted to play a larger role in Hope’s life? She had raised Hope on her own for ten years. It had always been Mackenzie and Hope against the world. And she knew she was being selfish, but she liked it that way.
When Dylan ended the call, he started to straighten up the condo to keep his body busy and his mind occupied. He moved restlessly from room to room, cleaning surfaces and pounding pillows into submission. He wound up back in the kitchen and began to unload the dishwasher even though the housekeeper would be there in the morning. One by one, he put the glasses in the cabinet, setting them down hard and then shutting the cabinet doors a little bit more firmly than he normally would. Finished with the chore, Dylan tried to push the dishwasher drawer back in, but it caught.
“Dammit!” Dylan rattled it back into place and then with a hard shove, slammed it forward. He lifted up the dishwasher door and shut it, hard. Stony faced, he leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Still frustrated and restless, Dylan headed down to the beach and once his feet hit the sand, he started to run. He was grateful for the cover of the night. He was grateful that there were only a few souls on the beach with him. He started to run faster, his feet pounding on the hard-packed sand. Pushing his body harder, pushing himself to go faster and farther than he had ever gone before. His lungs burned, but he didn’t let up. His leg muscles burned, but he didn’t let up. He didn’t let up until his leg muscles gave way and he stumbled. His hands took the brunt of his body weight as he fell forward into the sand. Fighting to catch his breath, he sat back, and dropped his head down to his knees. He pressed his sandy fingers into his eyes and then pinched the side of his nose to stop tears from forming.
He’d never wanted to be a father and he’d worked damn hard to make sure it never happened. That he never had a slipup. He had been vigilant all of his sexual life to make sure that he never got anyone pregnant. Even if he had been dating someone for a while, even if he saw them take the pill every day, he always wore a condom. But the one time he didn’t—the one time he didn’t—he’d gotten caught. And now, he had to face the one fear he had never intended to face: Was being a bad father genetic?
* * *
“I’m here.” Mackenzie pulled into a parking spot a couple of doors down from Dylan’s condo. She was on speakerphone with Rayna and Charlie.
“Mackenzie—you’ve got this,” Charlie said.
“And don’t forget—” Rayna began.
“Rayna,” Mackenzie interrupted her. “Please, please, please don’t give me another spiritual affirmation. I just can’t take it right now.”
After a pause, Rayna said in her “let’s meditate” voice, “I was just going to say—don’t forget that we’re always here for you, anytime, no matter what.”
“Oh. Sorry. Thank you,” Mackenzie said. “I’ll be by to pick up Hope after I’m done.”
Mackenzie hung up with her friends and then got out of the car. She stood by her car for several minutes, staring at Dylan’s condo, before she forced herself to get the show on the road. Stalling wouldn’t help. She needed to face this conversation with Dylan head-on and get it out of the way.
Mackenzie took a deep breath in and knocked on the door. This time, unlike the last time she stood in this spot, Dylan opened the door seconds after she knocked.
“Come on in.” Dylan stepped back and opened the door wider.
Mackenzie walked, with crossed arms, through the door and into Dylan’s world. She noticed, more so than she had the first time she was here, how neat and organized Dylan’s home was. His home was sleek, expensive and masculine: the ultimate bachelor pad. It was a sharp contrast to her 1930s Spanish-style Balboa Park rental with an interior decor that was cobbled together with flea-market finds and garage-sale bargains. The lives they lived, the lives they had built for themselves, couldn’t be more different.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Dylan stood several feet away from her, hands hidden in his front pockets. He looked different today. The boyish spark was gone from his eyes. The features of his face were hardened, his mouth unsmiling. Today, he seemed more like a man to her than he ever had before.
“No. Thank you.” Mackenzie shook her head, wishing she were already on the back end of this conversation.
“Let’s talk in the den.” Dylan slipped his left hand out of his pocket and gestured for her to walk in front of him. “After you.”
Mackenzie waited for Dylan to sit down before she said, “I’m not sure where to begin...”
“Why don’t we start with an answer to my question.” Dylan was determined not to let this conversation spiral out of control. He had always been known for his cool head and he wanted to keep it that way.
“I think you’ve already figured out the answer to your question, Dylan. But if you need to hear me say it, then I’ll say it,” Mackenzie said in a measured, even voice. “Hope is your daughter.”
Instead of responding right away, Dylan stood up and walked over to the large window that overlooked the ocean. He stared out at the waves and rubbed his hand hard over his freshly shaven jawline. With a shake of his head, he turned his back to the window.
“I’m just trying to wrap my mind around this, Mackenzie. It’s not every day that my friend’s sister turns up with my kid.”
“I understand.” Mackenzie wished that she could stop the sick feeling of nerves brewing in her stomach.
“How long have you known that she’s mine, Mackenzie?” Dylan asked pointedly. “Have you always known...or did you think that she was your ex-boyfriend’s child?”
Mackenzie’s stomach gurgled loudly. Embarrassed, she pressed her hands tightly into her belly. “I’ve always known.”
“How?” Dylan asked quietly, his face pale. “How did you know?”
“You were the only one I’d slept with in months, Dylan. It couldn’t’ve been anyone else but you.”
Dylan leaned back against the window; he felt off balance. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”
“It’s the truth....” Mackenzie said.
Dylan didn’t respond; he didn’t move. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he didn’t.
“I have a question for you.” Mackenzie turned her body toward him. “What made you think she was yours?”
“The bump...on her ear. It matches mine.”
“Oh...” Mackenzie said faintly. Dylan had always worn his hair long when they were kids—she never noticed that birthmark before.
“And then there was this.” Dylan retrieved the photo album, opened it and held it out for Mackenzie to take.
“Look familiar?” Dylan pointed to the picture of his aunt Gerri.
Mackenzie nodded, stared closely at the picture.
“Who needs a DNA test, right?” Dylan nodded toward the picture.
Mackenzie stared at the old black-and-white photograph. “This little girl...she’s the spitting image of Hope.” Mackenzie looked up. “Who is she?”
“That’s my aunt Gerri when she was nine.”
“I remember your aunt Gerri. We went to their horse farm a couple of times. She played the organ for us.”
Dylan’s jaw set. “Hope should be able to remember my aunt Gerri, too. Uncle Bill’s the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had. He deserved the chance to know my daughter.”
Dylan’s well-crafted barb hit its intended mark. And it hurt. Because Mackenzie knew that he was right. Silently, she carefully closed the photo album and handed it back to Dylan.
Dylan put the photo album on the coffee table and sunk down on the couch a cushion away from Mackenzie. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his legs and cradled his head in his hands.
“So...” Dylan said quietly. “We both know she’s mine. The next question I’d like answered is...why did you know ten years ago and I’m only finding out now?”
Mackenzie leaned away from Dylan. “I found out I was pregnant really early on. I’m regular...like clockwork. So when I didn’t get my period after the wedding...I knew.”
“And you didn’t think it was important to share this information with me, because...?”
“I was going to tell you. It never occurred to me not to tell you.”
“But you didn’t...” Dylan lifted his head, looked at her. “Why not?”
“Jett told me that you were back with Christa...”
“Jett knew?”
“No. Not back then. And not until long after the two of you had already lost touch.”
Dylan nodded and Mackenzie continued her story.
“After I found out that your engagement was back on, I thought it was the best thing for both of us if I didn’t tell you...”
“No.” Dylan shook his head. “You should have told me. I had the right to know.”
“You forget, Dylan. I knew how much you loved Christa. That’s all you talked about the night Jett got married. And you and I both know what would’ve happened if she found out you’d gotten someone pregnant at the wedding! She would’ve broken off the engagement and you would have lost the love of your life because of me! I couldn’t see any reason to screw up your life, Dylan...not when I didn’t even know if I wanted to keep the baby.”
“I didn’t marry Christa,” Dylan challenged her. “But, you did keep the baby.”
“Yes. I did. I thought about adoption. I thought about...abortion. In the end, I decided to keep her.”
Dylan stabbed his leg with his finger. “That’s a decision we should have made together.”
“I admit that I may have called it wrong...”
“Called it wrong...?” he repeated incredulously.
“But I was young and I thought I was doing the right thing for all of us.” Mackenzie touched her finger to her chest. “I got Hope and you got to marry the woman you loved.”
“I didn’t even know what love was back then...” Dylan shook his head. “At least now I know why you were so anxious to get rid of me at the barn the other day. You didn’t want me to meet my own daughter.”
“Not like that I didn’t.” Mackenzie set the record straight. “I didn’t want that for Hope...and I didn’t want that for you.”
In a rough voice, Dylan asked, “Were you ever going to tell me, Mackenzie? Or were you just going to let me go the rest of my life not knowing?”
“No.” Mackenzie clasped her hands together. “I was going to tell you. I had decided to start looking for you this year...”
Dylan’s eyes were glassy with emotion. “You’re telling me...that if we hadn’t run into each other at Ian’s party, you were going to track me down? Why? Why now?”
Mackenzie took a deep breath in and when she let it out, her shoulders sagged.
“It’s what Hope wanted. When we were filling out her Make-A-Wish application, she wrote—I wish I could meet my dad.”
“Wait a minute...” What she had just said didn’t sink into his head right away. “Make-A-Wish? Isn’t that for sick kids?”
“Yes.” Mackenzie waited for Dylan to ask the next logical question.
“Are you trying to tell me that Hope is sick?”
“Hope has been battling leukemia for the last two years.” Mackenzie managed to say those words without tearing up.
As Dylan often did, he went silent. He stared at her for a long time with puzzled, narrowed eyes.
“Do you need a drink?” he finally asked. “I need a drink.”
Dylan stood up suddenly and walked toward the kitchen. He stopped when he realized that she was still sitting on the couch. “Are you coming?”
Wordlessly, Mackenzie stood up on shaky legs and followed Dylan into the kitchen.
“Can I interest you in a cold malt beverage?” Dylan pulled a bottle of beer from the side door.
“Sure. Why not?”
“Why not, indeed,” Dylan said cryptically as he popped the tops off the beers and handed her one. “We’re both consenting adults here.”
“Thank you,” Mackenzie said. She brought the bottle up to her mouth but Dylan stopped her.
“What should we toast to?” He held out his bottle to her.
“Anything you’d like,” Mackenzie said tiredly. She was exhausted. She was exhausted all the time, and had been for years. The stress of Hope’s illness and the stress of trying to run a business had been catching up with her for a long time. And now she had a sinking feeling that dealing with Dylan was only going to add to her exhaustion.
Dylan tapped her bottle with his. “To Hope.”
“To Hope,” Mackenzie seconded.
“Could you go for some fresh air?” Dylan asked.
Mackenzie nodded and Dylan opened the French door leading out to the deck. “After you.”
Mackenzie stepped onto the large deck and was immediately drawn to the edge of the railing that overlooked the beach. She stared at the sun setting over the small, rolling waves and tried to relax her shoulders. Dylan, who used to be so simple to read, wasn’t so easy for her to read tonight. She had no idea what type of emotional shift she might encounter. Next to her, but not too close, Dylan rested his forearms on the railing, bottle loosely held in one hand.
“So...” Dylan said in a calm, almost contemplative tone. “Hope has cancer.”
“Yes...” Mackenzie nodded. “She has acute lymphoblastic leukemia. ALL. She was diagnosed when she was eight.”
“Leukemia. What is that? Blood cancer?”
Mackenzie nodded. “At first I just thought that she was pushing herself too hard between school and the barn. She was tired all the time, losing weight. She just wasn’t herself. When she started to complain about an ache in her bones and a sore throat...” Mackenzie lifted one shoulder. “I thought she was coming down with the flu. I mean...who would immediately jump to cancer?”
Dylan sat down in one of the chairs encircling a fire pit. Mackenzie joined him.
“I remember being really stressed out that day...the day we found out. I had to rearrange my entire morning so I could get Hope to the doctor. Traffic was ridiculous, I was on the phone with the bakery...on the phone with clients...I remember thinking that it was the worst possible time for Hope to be catching something on top of everything else.” Mackenzie pushed strands of hair out of her face. “And all I could do was start adding things to do to my already gigantic to-do list—stop by the pharmacy, arrange for someone to stay with Hope...blah, blah, blah...”
Mackenzie stopped to take a swig from her beer. She shook her head as she swallowed the liquid down. “I had no idea how frivolous everything I’d just been obsessing over was about to become.”
Dylan listened intently, while Mackenzie talked. “The doctor sent us to the hospital, tests were run and she was diagnosed that day. And just like that...literally in what seemed like the blink of an eye...our world imploded. No parent is ever prepared to hear the words your child has cancer.” Mackenzie rubbed fresh tears out of her eyes. “But even more than that, I’ll never forget the look on Hope’s face when she asked me—ʽDid she just say that I have cancer?’ I’ve never been that scared in my life. Hope was admitted to the hospital, and ever since then, our lives just became this never-ending revolving door of chemo and steroids and tests and checkups and hospital stays...”
When Mackenzie realized that she was the only one talking and that she had said much more than she had ever intended, she stopped herself from blurting out more by taking a swig of her now-tepid beer. She picked at the label on the bottle, wishing that Dylan would do something other than sit in his designer lounge chair and stare at her.
“I don’t know why I just told you all of that,” Mackenzie said to fill the silence.
At first, Dylan really didn’t know what to say. He had been dragged from one emotional spectrum to the next in the span of an hour. At the beginning of their meeting, all he felt for Mackenzie was anger. But while Mackenzie was telling her story, and with the ocean wind blowing the wispy tendrils of her hair across her pretty face, she reminded him of the girl she had once been. The girl he remembered so vividly from his childhood—the chubby bookworm with thick glasses who used to read her books in the backseat of one of her father’s vintage cars. All the boys in the neighborhood ignored Jett’s sister, but he never did. Maybe it was because he liked how different she was than the rest of the girls. Or maybe it was because he had only seen her smile once after her mom died. He had never thought to analyze it. He had always just liked Mackenzie.
“Because we used to be friends,” Dylan said.
“Were we?” Mackenzie asked.
“I always thought so.” Dylan caught her gaze and held it. “And I tell you this, Mackenzie. If I had known that you were pregnant...if you had just trusted me enough to give me a chance, I never would’ve let you or Hope go through any of this stuff alone. I would have been there for you...both of you...every step of the way.”
Chapter Five (#ulink_f892f4bc-85e8-55bb-8493-3166425830a9)
It took Dylan a couple of weeks to make a decision about Hope. He had gone about his daily life trying to focus on business. He hadn’t told anyone about Hope, not his girlfriend, his aunt or his best friend. He needed to get right with it in his own head before he could open up to other people. And after many distracted days and restless nights, he had an epiphany of sorts: Didn’t he have a moral obligation to Hope? Yes, the idea of becoming an “instant parent” terrified him. But if he was brutally honest with himself, the idea of repeating his father’s mistakes scared him even more. Once he came to a decision, he took the only next logical step: he called Mackenzie.
“Hello?” Mackenzie answered the phone.
“Hi, Mackenzie. It’s Dylan. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Busy. But fine,” Mackenzie said. “Hope’s doing really well. Her recent blood tests came back clear. She’s still in remission.”
“That’s good to hear.”
When he didn’t add anything more, Mackenzie asked, “How are you doing, Dylan?”
“I’m okay. Still sorting through this thing, I think.” Dylan rested his forehead in his hand. “Look, Mackenzie, I’ve been thinking a lot about Hope...are you sure that getting to know me is what your daughter wants?”
Mackenzie hated that she hesitated before she said, “I’m sure.”
“Then, let’s set it up.” Dylan stared out the window at the calm ocean in the distance. His tone was steady but his heart was pounding.
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