Page 6 of My Dearest Mackenzie

Poor Corey tucked tail and headed out, but not before turning and winking at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he planned this. But after the ass ripping I’d given him on his pranks, there was no way he’d risk it.

As soon as he left, I turned toward my visitor. “Now Frances, I’m heading out for the weekend soon. So what business do we have left to discuss? I thought we were all done.” I ran my hand through my hair and noted it was still a bit damp from my shower. My mind screamed to get out of this discussion as fast as possible. On the contrary, my body didn’t care how inappropriate it was to imagine Little Miss Kickboxing in the shower with me. Yep, that was where my head went. The other one.

“I’m sorry for how the other day went…excuse me, do you hear me?”

I nodded, leaving my shower fantasies where they belonged—not in this room.

“Like I said, I’m sorry, but I need you to understand how important this is to me. My Paps—”

“Frances.”

“Frankie, please. The way you say it sounds old. No, no, dirty. I don’t know. It’s just Frankie to everyone.”

She had me at dirty, but I got back on track. “Frankie, listen, I know your Pap must’ve been special. I get that. My grandmother was a force herself. But he’s gone, like my Grammy is, and we can’t bring them back. All we can do is think of them, remember the good times with them, and live our lives.”

“It’s Paps. And there is a connection with us. At least a history we should find out about. He loved her. His Rosie.”

“There is no history,” I barked back, but my mind swirled with explanations. Milly always talked about true love. Maybe there was a deeper meaning?

Frances, aka Frankie, looked at me dead-on, her eyes blazing into mine—deep green forests beckoning me to hike around and explore, like the mountains of New Hampshire in graduate school.

“It’s normal to want some sort of closure when someone dies. It’s clear to me that you and your grandfather were extremely close, and he told you whatever he told you for some reason. It’s not my place to speculate why, but I do know it wasn’t so you would come and try to tangle me up in your emotional mess.”

“What if…I don’t know…the what-ifs are endless, and I can’t let it go.”

Clearing the toad in my throat, I swallowed my pride and over four decades of feelings. “I have to let it go. You see, I’ve spent a lifetime living in what-ifs. What if my dad didn’t get tangled up with my shit mom? What if I didn’t have Milly? What if I didn’t prove myself in my business? I’m not about to open another big can of what-ifs in my life. Period. End of subject.”

I said the last part with a hint of anger and a rumble in my chest. Did this deter Frances Burns? No.

She walked steadfastly toward me and, without asking or even questioning if it was all right with her nonverbals, took my hand in hers. This pint of a woman was worse than any reporter; she opened doors that had been bolted shut since the day Milly passed.

“Mackenzie, it’s okay to feel with me. That’s what I want. I need to explore what happened with my Paps, and I know you’re fighting the idea but I sense you want to also.”

Her skin was smooth and electric against mine, my head and body in a world war. “No, I don’t want to explore anything but my golf weekend, which you are making me late for. So if you’ll excuse me, Ms. Burns, I need to go.”

“My Paps played golf. Not very well, but he liked the idea of it. A gentleman’s sport, he called it.”

“Again, very sweet, but I have to go.” My mouth was saying one thing, yet my hand was still entwined with Frankie’s.

I quickly extracted my fingers, but she rambled on. “That was my Paps. A gentleman. He believed in fairness, shaking hands, and being honest.”

Stepping back, I looked down at Frances and raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what you call dangling a carrot, making up lies, or oversharing tidbits from the past with your impressionable granddaughter.”

She crossed her arms in front of her, forcing me to notice the pink satin camisole she wore under her ivory blazer. It had a small bit of lace trim by the cleavage, and I couldn’t help but note she was not lacking in that area…

“Eyes up here, Mr. Miller.”

Raising my hands in the air, I admitted my guilt. “Look, I really have to go.”

“Will you think about taking a quick peek at what I have? We can meet somewhere neutral. A coffee shop, a bar, or wherever you pick.”

It took every muscle in my body to keep from saying, If you wear that pencil skirt, I’ll meet you anywhere… But that wasn’t the man Milly raised me to be.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, Frances, but I can’t. My dad is gone. My grandmother is gone. Lord knows where my mother is…no sense in lying to you about that since you seem to be a truth serum for me. This company, my family’s name, is all I have. I am not about to go trekking on an expedition that would change any of that.”

“Here,” she said while stomping her foot. “Take this.” She shoved a business card at me and spat out, “When you change your mind, call me. I know you will.” She spun and walked out faster than I could reply.

“I won’t” was what I whispered to her ass as she sashayed out the large mahogany door, paying no mind to me or my misgivings.

---