Billionaire Vacation

by Nella Tyler

  Maybe for our second date, he would plan ahead to have Landon spend the night somewhere—or maybe he’d have a babysitter set to watch his son until the early hours of the morning. Maybe I’d invite him back to my place, or he’d invite me back to his. I shivered; it had been a long time since I’d been with anyone. I was a little nervous, but I let myself slip into the little fantasy anyway. I imagined that Patrick took me out to a nice dinner—a step up from our first date, but nowhere too fancy, nowhere I’d feel uncomfortable or underdressed in my good clothes. I’d had time to do my hair and makeup, and I looked amazing—in fact, Patrick told me just that.

  In my little fantasy, the dinner went just as well as coffee had gone a couple of days before, and we were laughing and talking, but I could feel the tension building up inside of me. We left the restaurant together and Patrick suggested that I could ride in his car; he’d bring me back to where I’d parked later. “Besides, it doesn’t make sense to take two cars to one destination, right?” I nodded and he kissed me again, just like he had on our first date together. My heart pounded in my chest as Patrick deepened the kiss moment by moment, his hands beginning to wander over me. I was pressed against the car, Patrick’s body against mine, his hands tickling and caressing me as we stood there.

  Patrick broke away from me, pulling back and looking down into my eyes. “You’re sure you want to come home with me?” I nodded, too breathless and turned on to even think about turning him down. I had wanted to go home with him even on our first date—only his need to make sure Landon was safe and taken care of had prevented us from going through with it then. I got into his car—since I didn’t really know what he drove, I just imagined a nice SUV—and then we were at his house, tumbling into the bedroom together, going at each other like a couple of animals. I imagined taking off his suit bit by bit, piece by piece; I imagined Patrick fumbling to find the zipper on my dress. My heart beat faster and faster while we stripped each other’s clothes off and touched each other everywhere.

  Somewhere along the way, we fell into bed together and all I cared about was the fact that I could feel Patrick’s skin against mine, that I could feel the hard ridge of his cock rubbing against me through the thin fabric of his underwear. I shivered, imagining him slipping one hand between my legs, stroking and rubbing me while I lay underneath him, absolutely turned on. I felt hot all over, tingling from head to toe, and all I could think of was that I wanted more—I wanted to feel him inside me, wanted to feel him moving with me.

  “Mack! Where is your head at, girl?” I almost dropped my cup of coffee on my desk at the sound of Amie’s voice.

  “Oh! I guess I just got lost in space,” I said, wishing the blood would rush out of my face instead of rushing into it. My cheeks burned, I was blushing so hard.

  “Look at this one,” Amie said, gesturing to my face for one of the other therapists walking through the office area. “I know what she was thinking about. Who was it, Mack?”

  “Oh shut up,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It wasn’t anyone.”

  “I could tell everyone to avoid the employee bathroom for a few minutes if you want,” Amie suggested playfully. “Because you look like you’re ready to go.”

  “I was just thinking about something,” I said, shrugging. “I started daydreaming.”

  “I can tell what you were daydreaming about,” Amie told me. She sat down in the chair next to my desk. “Come on, you can tell me who it was; I’m not going to share it.”

  “It wasn’t anyone in particular,” I said, shaking my head. “Just a little fantasy.”

  “I bet it was one of the patients’ parents, wasn’t it?” Amie chuckled. “Don’t act shocked! Gisele had a thing for one of the parents a couple of months ago—wanted to go to work on him like a giant ice cream sundae.”

  “If I was into one of the patients’ parents, after telling me that about Gisele you’re the last person I’d share with,” I told Amie, grinning in spite of how embarrassed I felt.

  “I’m friends with you,” Amie pointed out. “Gisele is just another coworker. Come on, tell me who it was.” I rolled my eyes again.

  “Alexander Skarsgard,” I told her, grinning. “I could do worse than a handsome Swede who has money and brains and charm.”

  “You’re lying,” Amie told me, grinning with glee. “But I’ll let it slide. You don’t want to tell your best work-buddy who you were getting all hot and bothered with in your brain, then you don’t have to.” She leaned in closer. “But that one guy—the one with the five-year-old—he’s a pretty tasty dish.”

  “He’s a widower,” I said with a shrug. “Besides, we’re not supposed to date patients’ parents.”

  “No, but I don’t think anyone would blame you if you did,” Amie told me, standing up again. “And besides it’s not something they’d fire you for. Promise me if he asks you out you’ll at least consider it. I had to laugh; Patrick had already asked me out, and I’d done exactly what Amie had said I’d do—but we’d gone out anyway. And we were going out again.

  “I promise to actually think about it,” I told her, and then she was off to fetch her next session’s patient.

  Chapter Two - Patrick

  I’d seen Mackenzie a couple of times since our first date together; Landon’s appointments had to continue. But I had backed off of any kind of romantic advances while I was in the office with her, while she was working with my son. I didn’t want to make things weird for her—and more importantly, I hadn’t thought up what I wanted to do for our next date just yet. Gotta think of something good, I thought as I pulled into the parking area outside of the physical therapy clinic. “How do you feel about today’s session, buddy?” I glanced at Landon in the rearview mirror.

  “Okay, I guess,” Landon said with a shrug. “Mack makes it fun.” I started to look for a parking spot; Landon spoke up again a moment later. “I wish it was faster,” he added. “I want to be able to play soccer again.”

  “You gotta take it slow shrimp,” I told him. “Otherwise you might hurt yourself again and be out of soccer for an even longer time.”

  “I know,” Landon said, and I saw him nodding in the mirror. “I just wish it could go faster.”

  “I get ya,” I told him, turning my head for a second so he could see me smile. “But hey—the good news is that you’ll be a lot better at avoiding getting hurt in the future.”

  “That is good,” Landon agreed. I found a spot and pulled into it; I never liked to be late for anything, but I really didn’t want to be late for any of Landon’s sessions with Mackenzie. The last thing I wanted to do was bomb my chances at getting something going with her by being annoying. I grinned to myself as I got out and then helped Landon out of the car. That kiss, man… it was just enough to make me want more, just enough to make me wish I’d made plans for Landon to be taken care of for the whole night. I didn’t know for sure that Mackenzie would have gone home with me if not for Landon, but I could tell that she had wanted more. I just had to follow up the right way.

  It wasn’t all about getting her in bed; I wanted to make sure that she was the kind of woman who could be part of Landon’s life. I didn’t want to tell Landon that I was going to win his little bet until I was sure that Mackenzie would be the one to help me win it—and I didn’t have much time. Figure something out today. Ask her when you leave.

  I checked Landon in and sat down in the waiting room while Mackenzie finished up with her previous patient. I’d been right on time for our appointment. I didn’t even really have enough time, sitting there, to flip through one of the magazines. I checked to make sure I hadn’t gotten any new emails during the drive from work to Landon’s school to the clinic, and then Mackenzie was at the door that separated the waiting room from the back area, and I was following Landon through it.

  I was so proud of him for the fact that he already didn’t have to use the crutches anymore; he’d been walking completely on his own for days, and even if he was slower than he used to
be, I could tell he was getting stronger, getting in shape. It was a relief to know that he was going to make a full recovery—at least, that Mackenzie believed he would. I’d felt guilty more than once at the thought of what Landon’s mother would have thought of her son breaking his leg playing soccer. Would she have blamed me, or been upset that her son had been injured? Joanne had loved Landon with all her heart, for the short, short time she’d had him. I worried sometimes that I couldn’t give Landon all the love he would need, with her gone. Even if I could find a woman—Mackenzie or someone else—to take part in my life, could anyone love Landon as much as Joanne had?

  “Let’s get started, okay Landon?” I sat down on one of the benches off to the side as Mackenzie led my son over to the first station she wanted him at. I smiled to myself as I watched them together; I knew Landon liked Mackenzie, that he enjoyed working with her. Somehow she knew just how to hit the right note with him, to keep him focused in a way that even his teachers didn’t quite manage. “You know the drill, buddy…walk along the beam for me.”

  “Okay,” Landon said, not even looking at me. I watched him make his way along a low balance beam, putting one foot carefully in front of the other. Mackenzie was right behind him, hands out to catch him if he needed it, but she was letting him do it. She’s good with kids—especially Landon. She’s cute as hell; she’s smart…you have to just make the move already. If you don’t, someone else will. I thought back to our date; Mackenzie had said something about being single for a while, about neglecting her social life. We had that in common at least. Watching her working with my son, taking him to another station for a different exercise, pushing him to do more, to keep going, I thought that it was shocking she’d even be able to keep from dating. Even in her scrubs she was cute.

  “You’re doing good, Landon—keep it up. You’ve got this down!” I watched my son extend his leg on some kind of machine, his face screwed up in concentration, as Mackenzie cheered him on. He looked over at me and I smiled.

  “You heard her, shrimp—you’re doing great!” Mackenzie looked over at me too and gave me a quick thumbs-up, where Landon wouldn’t see it. My son went back to his exercises, and I listened as Mackenzie kept him going; she alternated between cheering him on and being tough on him when he started to complain that something was too hard, or that he didn’t want to do it that day.

  “I know it’s rough, but you need to do these exercises so you can get back to soccer—and you want to do that, right?”

  “Yeah. But it hurts!”

  “How bad does it hurt, and where?” I watched as Mackenzie got down to my son’s level and put her hand on his leg. “Is it here?” She touched the spot where his break had been, and Landon shook his head. “Here?” She kept going until she came to the spot that my son agreed was where it hurt. “Is it a poking kind of pain, or is it like your leg is nagging you?”

  “Nagging,” Landon told her.

  “Okay. Let’s take two minutes, and try it again, okay? Your muscles are just telling you that they’re tired and need a break. Let me grab you a bottle of water.” I watched her hurry over to the little fridge in the corner and bring back a little quarter-pint bottle marked spring water”. Landon drank it down and for a minute or two Mackenzie just asked him about his day at school, about his teachers, about how he was doing in PE. She checked her watch then and took a deep breath. “Okay. Feeling better? Ready to get on it again?”

  “Yeah!” Landon all but jumped back onto the machine and started back up, chattering about his friend Jessie, about a new video game he wanted for Christmas, about the possibility of going to see Santa at one of the big events the city threw during the holiday season.

  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?”