Page 16 of My Dearest Mackenzie

“Spill it.” Spencer stared me down, now on his back on the mat.

“Apparently my grandmother is coming back to haunt me.”

“Not what I expected to hear,” came from Spence on a long breath. “Interesting, I’ll admit, but not your everyday kind of guy talk.”

“I didn’t take you as the kind to believe in ghosts,” came from Neil. “Give me some crunches,” he added, looking at me, and I dropped to a mat on the other side of Spencer.

Through gritted teeth, I spoke. “Not her actual ghost. Her past. There’s some girl…woman…who claims her grandpa was the long-lost love of my grandmother’s. I don’t know if it’s true or what happened or why she even cares, but uncovering their story is her current life mission. And I’m her accomplice whether I want to be or not.”

“Tell me this, is she smoking hot? Enough for you to turn down going home with Sela? Is that what happened last week? I didn’t know you were interested in someone else, or I wouldn’t have pushed the agenda.”

“Dude…what are you, twenty-five? Smoking hot?”

“Says the guy saying ‘dude.’”

I couldn’t help a belly laugh escaping me. “Ouch,” I said, holding my core.

Neil recentered us. “So what’s the issue? Spit it out and we can get back to your workout.”

“This woman has literally hunted me down and trapped me in this romantic mission with her.”

“Pretty sure no one traps you in anything, Millsy. Now I know she’s gotta be hot and smart and interesting and worth it.” Spencer stood and grabbed a water bottle.

Getting up myself, I turned to face my friend. “I appreciate all your rambling on and on. Yes, she is extremely attractive, curvy, younger, huge green eyes, smart with a knack for little zings, and wounded…in a way that compels me. That’s the problem. And now I’m tasked with helping her research my family, which is the last fucking thing I want to do. Yet I agreed to all of the above.”

“Back to bicep curls because you need a therapist for this,” Neil directed.

“You do, man. You really fucking do. It’s like your worst nightmare wrapped up in one. A broken, gorgeous woman and your shitty family history. All your kryptonites. Is she trying to bandage your abandonment issues too?”

I nodded, lugging the thirties and starting to curl. “You know she is…they all want to make up for my lack of a mother.”

As I said it, I knew these two were right; I needed therapy.

Instead, I found myself meeting Frankie at her kickboxing class on Wednesday. If the guys only knew I was group kickboxing… I could practically hear them laughing like hyenas.

“Hope you can keep up with me,” she said outside the boutique fitness studio before yanking the door open.

She was still in her work clothes—shiny, pale pink Mary Janes on her feet, silver-gray pencil skirt, an ivory sleeveless blouse, and a huge sparkly tote slung over her shoulder. Took me all of three seconds to catalog every inch of her like a desperate and thirsty man searching for water and she was a bubbling stream.

We signed in at the desk, Frances quickly letting them know she’d booked both of us on her package.

“Dinner is on me.” I said it without us even discussing grabbing a meal after, but the evening already felt too short. For someone who didn’t enjoy spending time with many people, being with Frances felt inviting, natural, and like it was never enough.

“I need a minute to change.” She ignored my offer, looking me up and down, taking in my track pants and jacket.

“I’ll just leave this in a locker.” Waving a hand in front of my body, I’d never felt more at a loss for something to say.

How was it this small creature unraveled me?

“Meet you back here,” she stated and sauntered off.

If it took me three seconds to note her work outfit, it took less to take in her workout wear. Black biker shorts, a strappy red tank thing, and her hair tied tight in a ponytail, sneakers on her feet.

“Ready?”

I nodded.

What happened next was a blur. Some hunk named Roy led us through a warm-up, notably passing behind Frances every time we hit down dog. Next, he worked us through our uppercuts and a bunch of other jabs and crosses, which only left me wanting to jab him every time he adjusted Frances’s form.

---