Mackenzie waved to Phoebe through the window of Coastal Charms and greeted Rex as he locked the front door to his insurance office.
“Pretty soon these sidewalks will be full. Enjoy your walk in quiet while you can,” Kelsey said from the bench outside her organic and gluten free wholefood store. “Care to sit and hang out with me for a bit?”
Kelsey was a relatively new addition to Rocky Harbor. At first the town denied her proposal, thinking she was trying to open a grocery store on their charming street, but once everyone got a look at her business plan and her products, she was welcomed with open arms.
“Can’t tonight. Next time.”
“Did Rachael tell you about my offer to make gluten free desserts for Coast & Roast?”
“She did. And I’m still waiting for samples,” she joked.
“I’ve heard about your sweet tooth. I’ll get some to you soon. And to be clear, I’m not trying to step on Rachael’s toes. You don’t have to order from me, but it would be good for the community to see our businesses unite. Cross promote and all.”
“You have good business sense and from what I’ve heard on the street, you’re not a bully, unlike some of the other business owners who didn’t last long. I trust you and your reputation. Let me get through this weekend and then we’ll hook up.”
“Sounds good.” Kelsey returned to her book, humming while she read.
Adorable girl. She was only a few years younger than Mackenzie, maybe twenty-eight, but she had a youthful innocence to her.
Once again the fresh air cleared Mackenzie’s mind, giving her a few moments of relaxation before heading over to her parents’ house.
A little while later, she pulled into the dirt driveway of her childhood home, a wave of nostalgia overwhelming her. Renee loved fresh air and kept the windows open until frost covered the grass in the late fall. She’d refused to put in air conditioners, claiming there was nothing better than bringing a little bit of the outdoors in.
Mackenzie remembered sitting on her bed in her room doing her homework and being overwhelmed by the smell of lilacs in the spring. The purple flowers were in full bloom now, their sweet scent welcoming her as she stepped out of her car. Mackenzie reached out to touch them before going in the house. She’d find her mother’s gardening shears and cut some blooms for Coast & Roast.
It wasn’t until she made it to the front step that she noticed all the windows were closed up. That could only mean one thing. Her mother wasn’t herself. Mackenzie’s heart ached, the heaviness in her limbs making the final two steps into her family home a challenge. Once inside, Mackenzie found her mom sitting at the kitchen table, alone.
“Mom?” Renee didn’t respond and stared off into space. “Mamma? It’s Mackenzie. I’m going to turn the light on, okay?”
She wasn’t ready for the mess when the lights flicked on. Renee had been a housekeeper since before Mackenzie was born. She prided herself on keeping a clean, organized home, with a home-cooked meal on the table at six o’clock every night and dishes washed by seven.
When she and her brothers were kids they’d fight over who had to take a shower first, then they hit puberty and fought over who got to take a shower first. There was hell to pay if bodies weren’t clean and homework done by nine o’clock every night.
Renee Pratt ran a tight ship and everyone adhered to her rules. Even Simon. Married for forty-five years, he never stopped loving and adoring his wife. While Renee worked and ran the household, she brought her sons and daughter up to fit their stereo-typical gender roles. The boys never learned how to cook, clean, or do laundry and Mackenzie never had to take out the garbage or pick up dog poop from the lawn. The woman’s place, according to Renee, was at her husband’s side and her job was to take care of him.
Simon didn’t argue with the mantra. He brought home a paycheck, working long hours as a custodian in a factory before taking a more secure job as a sanitation worker. He worked hard and never complained about his jobs. Neither did her mother.
There were no signs of dinner or dishes. Granted, it was nearly seven and Renee only had to cook for two now so cleaning didn’t take as long, but there were no smells of sauce or garlic or roasted potatoes.
“Mom? Where’s Dad?”
Renee let out a loud sigh and folded her hands on the table. “Dinner is served at six, Mackenzie. You spend too much time with your friend and not enough with your family. It’s your turn to use the shower first. Be a good girl and I’ll warm you up some leftovers.”
“Mom.” Mackenzie kneeled by her side. “I already ate.” She wouldn’t mention her dinner consisted of an unhealthy amount of cream, sugar, and chocolate on a cone. Cherries were fruit so that had to count for something.
“Richie went out with Emily tonight.” Richie hadn’t dated Emily since his senior prom twenty-five years ago. “Mark and Logan are working at the grocery store.”
The twins bagged groceries until they went off to college. Twenty years ago.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“Your father will be home from work soon. Help me get supper on the table.”
Like a switch was turned on in her head, Renee jumped out of her seat, filled a pot with water and set it on the stove to boil. She opened and closed cabinets, then did the same with the fridge before turning to face Mackenzie, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.
“What happened to all my food? Mackenzie Anne, I asked you to pick up a roast two days ago. You spend too much time with your nose in a book.”
Mackenzie turned off the stove and placed her hands on her mom’s shoulders. “How about I treat you to dinner tonight? We can go to the Red’s. You love their Italian food.”
“On a Monday night? You have homework to do.”
Monday had come and gone three days ago. There was a fine line between correcting someone with dementia, or Alzheimer’s, and going along with the flow.
Lights flashed through the kitchen window, followed by the slam of a car door and footsteps on the porch.
“Mom, have a seat. I’ll make us dinner, okay?”
“I’m not going to sit here idle. There’s laundry to wash.” Renee opened the door to the basement and went down the stairs. Mackenzie hoped there were dirty clothes to throw in the washer.
“Honey?” Simon entered through the front door laden with grocery bags. “Mack. I was so glad to see your car in the driveway.”
“Hi, Daddy.” She slipped a few of the bags from his hand and kissed her father on the cheek.
“How is she? I didn’t mean to be gone so long but I’m still getting used to finding your mother’s ingredients in the store.”
Her father had never grocery shopped a day in his life until recently, and Renee was a creature of habit. He’d learned a few months ago never to buy jarred sauce or store brand butter.
“Did Mom have another breakdown today?”
“No more than usual. She thinks it’s Monday and we didn’t have a roast.” He held up one of the bags.
“It’s a bit late to start it now. I’ll make it, though, if you think it will make Mom happy.” She hadn’t planned on staying that long, but didn’t trust her father to cook the roast properly.
During her teen years when her mother forced Mackenzie to learn how to cook, she talked back, yelled at her for trying to turn Mackenzie into a mini-Renee. Being domesticated was the last thing she wanted. They fought. A lot. Two strong, stubborn personalities.
And tonight it seemed like her mother was lost in those dreadful teen years again. Maybe Renee would find some comfort with a little attitude.
No, Mackenzie would stay strong. As always.
“You did really well.” Mackenzie unloaded the bags, saw the wrong cut of meat and quickly unwrapped it, thinking of ways to disguise the boneless rump roast. Maybe she could dice it up and make a beef stew. There was no way her mother would believe it was a chuck roast, especially with no bone.
Her poor father. He tried so hard, loved his wife so much,
and took such great care of her. “It’s the wrong roast, isn’t it? I was breaking out into a sweat trying to get home. Your mother had a bad day and we didn’t have any food in the fridge. She hasn’t left the house in two weeks and wouldn’t make a grocery list for me.”
“You told her you were going grocery shopping?” Mackenzie dropped the box of pasta on the floor.
“No. I haven’t gone that far off the deep end. I asked her to write down a few things so she wouldn’t forget the next time she went shopping.”
“Mom hasn’t shopped since Christmas.”
“I know. And I appreciate you going for her, for us, every week. You have a life to live too, honey.”
“She’s my mom. You’re my dad. I love you guys.” It had been a challenge to get away on Mondays, her mother’s usual shopping day. Coast & Roast always seemed to be busiest when Mackenzie needed to slip away. The only way to get it all done was to entrust Diane and Brandy with Coast & Roast.
It had been difficult, leaving the shop for a few hours with someone else in control of her baby, but her family needed her. The past two weeks, however, she hadn’t been able to get away. Brandy’s car had broken down and then Diane got sick. Mackenzie had no problem running her business all herself, but it made it nearly impossible to help her parents out. Her father had told her he had everything under control.
“We love you too.” He put the milk in the fridge and pulled her into one of his famous bear hugs. Resting her cheek on his chest, she breathed in the familiar scent of Old Spice and freshly cut grass. “I’m afraid to leave her alone. Tonight was the first time…” He sniffed and rested his cheek on her head.
“Daddy, you told me you had everything under control.”
“I know, honey. You’re already doing so much for us. You have your own place to run and I hate taking you away from work.”
“I could have shopped for you after closing.”
“You give us enough of your time. You’re young and beautiful and should be enjoying life. Finding a nice man. Settling down.”
Tried that. Didn’t work out so great. Although she wouldn’t mind getting down and dirty, or at least naked, with Blake. Ick. Not something she wanted to think about while nestled in the comfort of her daddy’s arms.
“I don’t mind helping.”
“And we love you for that.” He kissed the top of her head and backed away. “It’s too late for your mother’s roast. Suggestions?”
“I offered to take you guys out to dinner.”
Simon glanced at the clock. “It’s seven-thirty.” He sighed, his tall shoulders crumbling under the weight of his worry.
“Think she’ll notice if we set the clocks back a few hours?”
Her father laughed. “So beautiful yet so full of mischief. Your mother’s appetite isn’t what it used to be. Soup and sandwiches?”
“It is Thursday.”
“Maybe by the time she comes upstairs she’ll realize the day.”
Wanting to appear normal, her father opened the windows, turned on the television in the living room, and settled on the couch while Mackenzie made BLTs and cream of mushroom soup, one of the few recipes she’d retained over the years.
Two hours later, after a semi-normal meal, Mackenzie unlocked the back door to Coast & Roast and made her way up the stairs to her apartment. It wasn’t glamorous but it wasn’t a dump either. One large, open area that served as living room, kitchen, and dining room ran from the front of the building to the back.
The living room windows overlooked Main Street and The Closet. The two-story boutique carried high-end fashion that catered to the few wealthy residents and most of the tourists. Vivian Kramer spent all of her profits on Botox and tummy tucks, or at least that was the rumor as to how the sixty year-old woman maintained her thirty-something looks. The Closet closed at five o’clock sharp every night and was closed on Mondays and Tuesdays so Mackenzie had plenty of privacy.
The kitchen in her apartment had all the necessities: fridge, stove, microwave, and a decent-sized countertop. Her pub style table fit in the transition space between kitchen and living room, where tile turned into hardwood.
Mackenzie toed off her sneakers and kicked them to the corner, then headed down her short hallway to the bathroom. What she wouldn’t do for a bath. She’d have to settle for a shower. Whipping back the curtain, she turned on the hot water and waited for it to warm up.
When she could afford her own place she would have a giant ass bath meant for soaking. That was the one downfall of her apartment, no tub.
It was nearly midnight by the time she fell into her mound of pillows and dreamed restlessly of caramel latte eyes and strong, callused hands holding her tight.
Chapter Four
Blake
Wiping his sweat with the bottom of his shirt after running the fifteen-mile circuit of Mud on the Rocks, Blake focused on lowering his heart rate as he walked around the exterior perimeter of the gym.
While on his run he couldn’t help but grin at what he—and Colton—had built. Word was spreading fast and registration had already surpassed his expectations for the first year. He and Colton worked hard, physically and mentally, to get this project up and running in record time.
It helped having connections, and brothers with friends who weren’t afraid to get dirty. Rachael’s husband Jake was a huge asset. His landscape crew provided a lot of the muscle, as did Luke’s firefighter buddies and Graham’s mechanics.
Blake and Colton were limited in the friend department, returning to Rocky Harbor less than a year ago, but everyone rallied together and helped spread the word.
Of course it didn’t hurt when Sage lined up a photographer friend to take pictures of them working—sans the shirts, she’d ordered—and posted them all over Facebook and the website she was working on for them.
Modesty wasn’t in his vocabulary, but Blake wasn’t a cocky bastard either. In his line of work he couldn’t help but be in shape. Although he looked like a scrawny scarecrow standing next to Luke and Colton. Hell, even Captain America looked skinny next to the Hulk.
After a long workweek that seemed to never end—the weekends being his busiest times at Rock the Gym—Blake was grateful for a sunny Monday. And if he’d heard correctly, there was a feisty brunette who also had the afternoon off.
Blake headed inside, downed a bottle of water, and hit the showers in the locker room. Clean and dressed in a pair of old jeans and a Rock the Gym shirt, he grabbed his keys and called out to Colton.
“Text me if you need anything.”
“Stay out of trouble.”
“Not if I can help it.” Sliding on his shades, he unlocked his truck and whistled during the entire drive to Main Street. Not finding any good spots, he pulled around behind the shops into the parking lot.
Mackenzie sat on one of the benches, her back to him, facing the ocean. The slight ocean breeze blew the wisps of her hair that had come free from her ponytail, leaving her long neck naked and exposed. She appeared deep in thought and didn’t even so much as twitch when he sat next to her.
“Headache?”
“What?” She jumped, coming free from her trance, her face pale, dark circles cupping her eyes. “Don’t sneak up on people. It’s rude.”
“I hardly call that sneaking. If you didn’t hear my truck, my door slamming, or see me plop myself next to you, I’d say you’re off in la-la land.”
Mackenzie scowled and flipped him off.
“Grouchy much?”
“Not until a second ago.”
Blake laughed and scooted closer, brushing his thighs against hers. “Ever go riding?”
“What?” Mackenzie’s color had returned, as had her attitude. “Riding what?”
He raised an eyebrow, ready with a quick retort, but she held up her hand.
“That wasn’t seriously a pickup line, was it? Because if it was, you suck at it.”
“I can hold my own when I want to pick up a woman, but that’s not what I’
m trying to do. Just asking a friend if she wants to go out riding. Four-wheeling.”
“Friend? We hardly know each other.”
“Our mouths have been acquainted, I’d say that’s something.”
Red flooded her cheeks and she inched away from him. “You shouldn’t take advantage of a woman when she isn’t feeling well.”
“How are you feeling today?” If her head still hurt from her fall last week he’d scoop her up in his arms and bring her to the doctor’s.
“Well enough to know better.”
“As disappointed as I am, I’d still like to take you riding. Hard to do much kissing with helmets on, but we can pull over as often as needed if you’d like. Come on. Let’s go.” He stood and held out his hand for her.
“I’m not going riding with you.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to.”
“’Fraid of getting a little mud on you? I didn’t pin you to be a princess.”
“Just because I don’t want to go riding through the woods on an ATV doesn’t mean I’m scared or a princess. Besides, I’m busy.”
“Moping?”
“Hey.” Mackenzie jumped to her feet and Blake hid his grin. She was so easy to get a rise out of. “I don’t mope.” She poked him in the chest.
“I didn’t peg you for the boring stay-at-home type either. Need to work on your needlepoint? Maybe play with your herd of cats? Do your laundry?”
Her finger pushed deeper into his chest and she scrunched up her face and gritted her teeth. He’d obviously struck a nerve.
“Fine. I’ll go, cowboy. But you better keep your slick hands to yourself.” She turned on her heels and marched into the back door to her shop, her delicious ass and long, toned legs taunting him in a skimpy pair of denim shorts.
Blake jogged after her. “Not that I want them covered up, but you’ll want to put some jeans on those sexy legs of yours. Something old and grungy,” he called up the stairs to what he presumed to be her apartment. Tempting as it was to follow her up, he didn’t want to push his luck.
Playful Hearts (A Rocky Harbor Novel Book 4) Page 5
