Page 32 of My Dearest Mackenzie

I swallowed whatever emotions were currently clogging my throat and said, “Mackenzie,” firmly and matter-of-factly.

“Are you double-timing me?” Baron joked, turning to face me and now an impatient-to-speak Mack standing by my side.

“I need to discuss something with you,” Mack said.

“Fashion emergency? I made an appointment. You should too,” Baron said.

Funny, but out of line.

“Hey buddy, sorry. Just have to steal Frances here for one quick second. Looks great, by the way.” Mack waved his hand in front of Baron.

“Frances? Frankie, you okay? Need me to call someone?”

Now Baron was tightening our circle as Mack inched closer to my side.

“She’s fine. I’m a friend. We know one another,” Mack eyed Baron while he spoke.

“I’m in the middle of a sales appointment,” Baron responded.

“I’m at work, Mack,” I said, staring down the man of my recent fantasies.

“Are you Mack Miller?” Baron interjected, his energy and tone taking a dramatic turn.

“Didn’t seem to bother you when I was at work…” This was directed at me. Mack had a point. I just didn’t cause a cock-off when I interrupted him at the mall or his office.

Running a hand through his jet-black hair, Baron spoke. “Delighted to meet you. Baron Andrews,” he said while holding his hand out. “Sorry for the gruffness. Can’t have my time with New York’s best men’s clothing lady interrupted. You’ve been on my radar for a long time. My family is in the import/export business, and I always wondered who does your international shipping.”

Mack reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “I have a logistics person who handles it, but let’s set up a meeting. Call my assistant.”

I wasn’t immune to deals being done in my department, but this was a whole new level of weirdness. Mack likely wanted to get rid of Baron, and would say whatever it took.

“Frankie, do you think the suede loafer? Or go total hipster in a sneaker with this?”

“Can I borrow her for one moment? Loafer, for sure,” Mack interjected.

“Hmm, yeah, loafer. Okay, make it quick. I need to get a pair of jeans for another event. A soiree at the zoo… Maybe you’ll say yes to that, Frankie. Go with me…”

Mack’s mouth pinched, and I said, “Come on, make it quick.” I dragged him toward the counter. “What’s got your tighty-whities in a bunch?”

He countered my question with a question. “Are you dating that doofus?”

I side-eyed him.

“Answer me.” His tone was authoritative and gruff.

“Why? You don’t do commitment. I can date who I want.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, followed by hurt, his mouth now turned down.

“No.” I touched his hand with my fingers. “No, I’m not. He’s a customer. And you’re interrupting, you know?”

“Okay,” he said before taking a deep breath. “My apologies. Look, this was urgent. Also, I don’t wear white tighties, or whatever you said.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I didn’t take you for a briefs kind of guy anyway.”

“Boxer briefs. Good ones,” he muttered.

“It’s okay, Mack, you don’t have to explain your underwear choices. Now what did you need?”

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