Marry Me, Mackenzie!

“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.”