Dirty: The Complete Series (Secret Baby Romance Love Story) (142 page)

Finally the session was over. “All right,
big guy! You made a lot of progress today. High five!” Landon slapped his hand
against Mackenzie’s, and they came back over towards her station in the back
area, next to where I sat.

“Feeling the burn, champ?” Landon nodded,
looking a little glassy-eyed but still energetic.

“Grab a snack from my desk,” Mackenzie
suggested, opening a drawer as she sat down and started writing something in the
manila folder that held his file. “Okay, dad, your turn.” She looked up at me
and grinned.

“I’m ready,” I told her. Mackenzie took a
quick drink of water from a big bottle on her desk and set it aside.

“How’s Landon doing with meals? Is he
eating a good dinner every night?”

“He’s eating all of his meat and starch,”
I said, giving my son a quick look. “Sometimes he doesn’t like the vegetables I
make.”

“Brussel sprouts?” Mackenzie looked at
Landon to answer the question.

“They taste like sweaty socks,” Landon
said, twisting his face into a grimace.

“Have you ever eaten a sweaty sock?”
Mackenzie laughed.

“No, but they taste like sweaty socks
smell!” Mackenzie laughed again and looked at me, and I thought that the only
time she’d ever looked cuter was at the café.

“I have some advice on the Brussel sprout
front,” she told me. She looked at Landon. “I used to
hate
sprouts,” she said, leaning a bit closer to him and pretending
it was a secret. “But then I learned a new way to eat them.” She turned her
attention back onto me. “The trick is to cook ‘em in the oven. Roast them at
four hundred fifty degrees, with salt and pepper and oil, and then when they
come out, toss in some dried cranberries. Quick and easy and actually pretty
yummy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said with a
nod.

“You want to go out into the waiting room,
Landon? We got some more of those Skylander toys.” My son was hurrying clumsily
for the door in an instant, leaving Mackenzie and me almost alone.

“What’s the verdict?” I asked, feeling a
little jolt of worry.

“He’s doing really well,” Mackenzie said.
“You might want to have a snack for him in the car on the way over—pretzels or
goldfish crackers, something with some carbs in it. We’re getting into some of
the tougher exercises now, and he needs the energy.”

“I’ll do that,” I said, making a mental
note of it.
Now’s the time to ask her
out. Grow a pair.
“Hey,” I started, glancing around to make sure no one was
eavesdropping. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind seeing me again?”
Mackenzie’s cheeks lit up with a blush.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said, smiling as
her blush deepened.

“It wouldn’t be anything super fancy:
dinner and a movie—you pick the movie. Does that sound about right?” I tried to
think of how I could maybe arrange things so that we could go home together
afterwards if it felt right. I could leave Landon with one of his grandparents
if it came down to it. They would keep him for a night, and I could bring
Mackenzie back to my place—assuming she wanted to go.

“Dinner and a movie sounds like just my
speed,” she told me, smiling more deeply. “What day?”

“When do you have some free time? I
remember you said you sometimes work weekends.”

“The day after tomorrow works for me,” she
said after thinking for a moment. “I’ll have the morning after off, though I’m
on call that afternoon.”

“That sounds great! I’ll pick you up?”
Mackenzie hesitated, but just for a second. She nodded again.

“Can you get me at…maybe six-thirty? Or
seven?”

“Seven is great. I’ll make a reservation
for dinner at seven-thirty.”

“Great! Let me go ahead and finish this
chart and you can be on your way.”

“Let’s get on that then,” I agreed.
“Landon will end up never wanting to leave if I let him play with the toys too
long.”

Chapter Three - Mackenzie

I had played it cool when Patrick asked me
on our second date, but the closer it came the more nervous I became. I rushed
home from work so I could have as much time as possible to get ready. I’d
managed to have a kid in my second-to-last session of the day whose mom had stuffed
him with soda and candy so he’d “have plenty of energy” for his PT session—with
the predictable result that he’d ended up puking all over my scrubs and shoes
in the middle of doing an exercise. I’d managed to change before my last
session of the day, but I was horrified at the idea that I might end up going
into my date with Patrick smelling of puke and candy.

I had started taking off my clothes as
soon as I had the door locked behind me in my apartment, nearly tripping over my
feet to rush to the bathroom. I managed to kick my shoes off and stumble
towards the shower. I turned the water on and let it heat up for a moment while
I made sure that I had a clean towel to use. I showered as quickly as I
possibly could—but I still stayed in long enough to wash my hair twice before
putting conditioner in it and to scrub myself all over twice to make sure that
I was good and clean. I shaved while I let the conditioner sink into my hair
and then rinsed off one final time. “God I hope I don’t smell like kid-vomit,”
I murmured to myself as I stepped out of the shower.

After that I tried on three or four
outfits; I didn’t know where Patrick was planning on taking me, so it was hard
to guess whether I was overdressing or underdressing for the night out. He’d
said the date wasn’t going to be anything fancy. I settled on a dress
finally—one from Old Navy, which came down to just above the knee, in a soft
sweater material and a pair of even softer micro-plush tights to keep my legs
warm, along with a pair of boots.

That done, I rushed to get my makeup on.
I’ve never liked wearing a ton of makeup, and in my job it almost never made
sense to wear any at all, so I went with just some foundation and a little bit
of blush, a touch of eye shadow and mascara, and a swipe from a lip marker to
give my mouth a little bit of color.

I was deliberating over my jewelry—and
whether to wear any at all—when my phone rang. I was certain for just a second
that it would be Patrick, calling to cancel, after everything I’d done to make
sure I would be ready on time. Instead the contact details that flashed on my
screen showed it was my Dad. “Hey, Dad!” I hurried back into my bedroom and
started looking through my jewelry box. “What’s going on?”

“How’s my girl?” I smiled a little bit to
myself at Dad’s voice. I had to get him off the phone quickly—I didn’t know if
Patrick would be early, on time, or even a little bit late, but I wanted to
make sure that I was done getting ready by the time he showed up no matter when
he decided to knock.

“I’m doing all right,” I said, sitting on
the edge of my bed and dumping my jewelry box onto the comforter. “How are you
and Mom?”

“We’re good,” Dad told me. “Looking
forward to seeing everyone in a few weeks. Do you think you’re going to be able
to stay for the whole holiday?” I bit my bottom lip and picked through my
necklaces, trying to decide which one went best with the outfit I’d picked out.

“I’m hoping I can,” I said absently. “They
haven’t decided who’s on call for the days between Christmas and New Years, so
I’ll let you and Mom know if I might have to dash out one of the days.”

“Sometimes I worry about how hard you
work,” Dad said, sounding tired. “Just imagining it makes my head spin.”

“I learned it from you,” I told him, laughing
a little from my nervousness. “You were always the first one in and the last
one to go home.”

“But is that any way for you to live your
life?”

I shrugged, even though I knew that Dad
couldn’t see me. “It was fine for me—since I knew your mom was there to help
you with your homework and all those other things. But your mom and I are
worried that you work too hard to find someone to be with.”

“There are lots of married physical
therapists at the clinic,” I said. I picked out a necklace finally and put the
phone on speaker so that I could put it on. “Some of them even work as hard as
I do.”

“But how are you going to meet somebody if
you’re never free?”

“I’m free at nights,” I pointed out. “I
just have to make sure I get home on time.”

“You’re still so young,” Dad insisted.
“You should be going out to bars, meeting people.”

“I meet lots of people. I go out
sometimes,” I told him, as I finally managed to get the latch on my necklace
open. I somehow slid the loop into place and let the latch close. I gave the necklace
a little tug to make sure it was on properly and then went back to sorting
through my jewelry to find the matching earrings. “In fact I went out with
someone a few days ago.”

“Does that mean you might have a date for
our big party?” I fought back the urge to sigh; Dad and Mom alike were obsessed
with me having a date for the party, with me getting married. I had started to
think that they had some kind of belief that if I would just get married, I’d
quit my job—but any guy who expected me to quit working just because we’d
gotten married wasn’t a guy I wanted to be involved with. I loved my job, and I
loved the kids I worked with; I wasn’t going to give that up for anyone.
That’s something I should talk to Patrick
about if things ever get any farther than a couple of casual dates,
I
thought.

“We’ll see,” I told Dad. I found the
earrings and put them on before picking up the phone again. I took it off
speaker and went back into the bathroom to check my makeup and to put the
finishing touches on my hair. “I don’t get why you and Mom are always harping
on me dating someone.”

“We just want to see you happy,” Dad said.
“We don’t like the thought of you living all on your own.”

“I am perfectly happy living on my own,” I
said firmly. “And anyway, you should want me to be with someone who’s right for
me—not just anyone at all. Don’t you think I deserve the right guy?”

“But how are you going to find the right
guy if you don’t look?”

I finally did sigh. “Dad, it will happen
when it happens and not a minute before that,” I told him.
 
“If I’m meant to find a good guy, and get
married and settle down, then it will happen.”

“We just think you could be a little more
proactive. I don’t want to spend the rest of my retirement worrying what’ll
happen to you after I’m gone.”

“So then don’t worry about it!” I added
another coat of color to my lips to deepen it. “Whether I get married or not, I
have a good job and good benefits, and I am supporting myself just fine.”

“Let’s talk about something more
pleasant,” Dad suggested. “How was your day at work?” I glanced at my watch and
saw that there was another maybe fifteen minutes before Patrick should be
arriving to pick me up.

“I had a kid puke on me today,” I said,
grinning wryly to myself. “His mom had given him a whole twenty-ounce bottle of
pop and a bag of skittles to go with it and he went up like Mount Vesuvius all
over me.”

“I hope you read her the riot act,” Dad
said.

“Oh you’d better believe it,” I told him. “I
told her that the next time her son came in stuffed to the gills with sugar I
wasn’t going to work with him, and that if it happened a third time I was going
to not only kick her out of the clinic but inform her family doctor.”

“Good girl,” Dad said, his voice
approving. “Did you catch last night’s game?” I laughed. One of the few things
that Dad and I always had to talk about was the Chicago Bulls.

“I did!” We spent a few minutes talking
over the highlights while I checked myself over and over again to make sure I
was as perfect as I was going to get for the date with Patrick. I told Dad at
one point that I’d have to get off the phone soon—I was getting ready to go
out—but I didn’t tell him it was a second date with anyone. We started talking
about what we were going to get for the different members of the family and I
started pacing around my living room.

I almost dropped the phone when I heard
the knock at the door. “Dad,” I said, interrupting him in the middle of telling
me something about what he wanted to do for Mom. “I’m sorry, Dad, but my ride
is here. I need to get off the phone and head out.”

“Have a good night, sweetheart,” Dad told
me. “We’ll catch up again a little closer to the holidays, and I’ll send you an
email with what your Mom and I are getting on the different lists for the rest
of the family.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” I said. “Love
you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, sugar-booger,” Dad replied.
“Stay safe out there.” I gave him an air-kiss goodbye and hung up, hurrying to
the door in time for the second knock.
Watch:
it probably won’t even be Patrick. It’ll probably be the building manager or
someone, here to tell me that there’s been a leak, or to talk about the Mormon
Church.
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and unlocked the door,
turning the knob and tugging it open.

“Hi Patrick,” I said, relief washing
through me as soon as I saw him. He was in a pair of jeans, a nice shirt, and a
blazer, and I thought he must have spent a little bit of time after work
getting ready himself.