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