Strictly for Now by Carrie Elks
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
MACKENZIE
Gramps’ nursing home is really lovely. Fifty older residents are housed in a low-level sprawling building surrounded by lush gardens where they’re encouraged to either walk or be pushed around each day, admiring the late blooming pink coneflowers that are planted along the wheelchair friendly paths.
When I enter the lobby to sign in, I’m greeted by the receptionist, who knows me by name now. “Hey, Mackenzie,” she calls out. “Your grandpa’s in the sunroom.” She lifts a brow. “He’s in an excellent mood.”
“Has my dad called him today?” I ask her, trying to work out if he’s been told about Dad’s grand idea.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Just a lucky guess.”
I find Gramps sitting at a table, staring at the sports pages of the newspaper. He has his glasses on and his walker is next to his seat. He hates it, but he can’t move around without it or a wheelchair yet.
“Hi,” I say, sitting down in the chair opposite his. “I brought you some treats.” He asked for Tootsie Rolls of all things, so I bought a bag of them, along with some cookies he loves from the local bakery. “I’ll put them in the kitchen when I leave.”
“No, leave them with me,” Gramps says, his voice raspy. “People steal things from the kitchen.”
“They do?”
“Yep. I took somebody’s cheese sandwich from there the other day.”
I try not to laugh. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I want to go home.”
“You can’t yet,” I say lightly. “There’s no way you can deal with the stairs.”
“I don’t like my bed here. And the nurses keep treating me like I’m old.”
I press my lips together.
“Don’t laugh,” he says. “I’m not so old that I can’t wipe my own ass.”
Eeek. Way too much information.
“I got your afternoon cup of tea for you, Wayne,” the nurse says, sliding a cup and saucer in front of Gramps.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, smiling at her. I swear she blushes. My dad got his charm from his dad. They both know how to sweet talk anybody.
“Any time.” She smiles at him and walks away.
“Stop looking at her ass,” I whisper as his eyes follow her every move.
“I can’t help it. There’s nothing else to do.” Then he tips his head to the side, as though remembering something. “So your dad called, We’re gonna put on a show.”
“An exhibition match,” I correct.
“Whatever. Great news, huh?” He’s grinning now. “We get to raise some money and put the team on the map, too.” He looks at his walker. “And now I have a deadline to get up and about. I want to be there in person to watch the game.”
“You should talk to Eli about it,” I tell him. “Decide if the Mavericks are up to playing another game. It’s a busy season for them.”
“Of course they’re up for it,” he says. “They’re young and hungry. Giving them a chance to play against some hockey legends is going to make them even hungrier.”
“Do you think they’re ready?” I ask. “What if it’s completely one sided?”
He looks at me as though I’m an idiot.
“We need the money, Mackenzie. That’s why you’re here.”
He’s right. It’s the only reason I’m here. I don’t care about the team. Or at least I’m not supposed to. But I’ve seen how hard Eli’s worked with them. I know how much they want to succeed. I don’t want them to sacrifice everything just to pay off the IRS.
Gramps picks up his cup and puts it to his mouth, still looking at me. Except he’s not, his eyes are trained over my shoulder. He winks and blows a kiss and I don’t have to turn around to assume that his favorite nurse is behind me, still serving people drinks.
How is it that my eighty-eight-year-old grandfather can flirt without embarrassment yet I’m finding it impossible to say yes to a date with Eli?
It’s annoying. I seem to have skipped the gene for that the same way I skipped the gene for being able to stand up straight on an ice rink.
* * *
ELI
The parking lot is almost full when I pull into the Sunnyside Nursing Home. It’s not my first trip – I’ve been coming once a week since they discharged Wayne from the hospital. He likes me to catch him up on all the team gossip, and he’s actually great at talking through plays and strategies.
He’s seen and done everything. Nothing phases him at all.
“Hello,” the receptionist says, smiling brightly. “He’s in the sunroom. His granddaughter is with him.”
“His granddaughter?” I thought all his family was in L.A. “Did she fly in today?”
“I don’t think so.” The receptionist frowns. “She’s been coming regularly.”
That’s weird. Because Wayne told me his granddaughter is doing some Ice Stars show on the television. Either way it’s nice for Wayne. I put on my best smile as I walk into the sunroom and look around the room. It’s full of guests and their visitors – Saturday afternoon must be the most popular time to visit.
And then I see her. And everything fits into place. Mackenzie Hunter isn’t just some woman from New York. She’s Wayne’s granddaughter.
Of course she is. It’s those damn eyes. They’re the same as Wayne’s.
Why would she lie about something like that? Didn’t she know it would come out eventually?
Her back is to me. Her dark hair is down again, the same way it was the other night. There’s a wave to it, and it’s shiny like she just washed it.
And it’s like I can feel it in my hands. The silkiness sliding through my fingertips. The same way I remember how soft her lips were. How good she smelled.
Any time in the past few weeks she could have told me the truth. Especially the other night when I asked her out for dinner.
But she lied.
I reach the table and she still doesn’t seem to know I’m here. Wayne’s noticed me though, because he’s smiling and lifting his brows.
She turns around slowly. Slow enough for me to actually enjoy the anticipation. Her pretty hazel eyes meet mine and I have to force myself not to react.
“Eli,” Wayne says. “Have you met my…” he trails off. “You know Mackenzie from work, of course.”
“Your granddaughter,” I say and Mackenzie winces. “Yeah, we’ve met.”
* * *
MACKENZIE
Eli’s jaw is tight. There’s a tic in it, too. He also looks really good in a dark blue polo shirt and a pair of chinos. They’re completely different to his usual clothes, but I like them.
I take a deep breath and smile at him. He doesn’t smile back.
“Can I borrow Mackenzie for a minute?” he asks Gramps, who’s still distracted by the nurse.
“Sure.” Gramps shrugs.
“I was leaving anyway,” I say, standing. “We can talk on my way out.” I lean over and kiss Gramps then hand him the bag of goodies. “Don’t eat them all at once.”
Eli doesn’t say a word but I can feel him following behind me as I push through the doors to the reception area. The woman behind the desk waves at me and I smile back, but my heart is hammering against my ribcage.
The air is cool when I step outside and my jacket is way too thin to keep out the chill.
I turn to look at Eli, putting my arms around my waist to keep warm.
“Why are you never dressed for the weather?” Eli asks, looking genuinely perplexed. “You live in New York. It’s cold there. You must have coats and sweaters.”
It’s the strangest question, yet it’s completely Eli. “I don’t like the winter.”
“You think by not wearing a coat you’re gonna stop it from coming?” he asks. “Like King Canute and the tide?”
“No. I just…” This conversation is futile and I’m not sure where it’s going, so I sigh. “I’ll wear a coat next time.”
“Good.” He shrugs off his jacket and holds it out to me. “I only have so many fucking clothes I’m willing to give up.” He’s only wearing that distracting polo shirt beneath it, and it’s freezing out here. I can’t take it from him so I shake my head.
“Put it on, Mackenzie.” His voice is low. He’s annoyed with me.
“No.”
His brow crinkles as though I’m the first person to say that word to him. “Put. It. On.”
“What am I, your kid? You can’t talk to me like that.” And I know it’s not about the coat. Even so, he’s pissing me off. Just shout so we can be done with this, okay?
He lifts his hands up in what looks like frustration. “Just put the coat on so I can talk to you.” He pauses. “Please.” He sounds beseeching now, and I’m feeling sorry for him.
“That’s all I needed,” I mutter, taking it from him and sliding my arms through it. Like his hoodie, it’s ridiculously large on me, but the warmth is enticing.
“I know what your thinking, and I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell the truth.”
He gives me one of those looks. A tip-his-head to the side, eyebrows lifted kind of stare. “Didn’t you trust me with the truth?”
Oh. He’s hurt. And I don’t like that one bit. In fact, my heart does a weird clenching thing. “Nobody at the Mavericks knows,” I tell him. “Almost nobody outside of the Mavericks knows either.”
“So I’m nobody now?”
I open my mouth and close it again. I have no idea what to say to that.
“I get it.” He steps back. “I understand. You’re not interested.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, and his polo shirt lifts enough to expose a sliver of his stomach.
“I’m a fucking idiot,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry for bothering you. It won’t happen again.”
My mouth drops open as he turns and walks away. That hammering of my heart against my chest feels like a full on assault now, it’s so fast I’m finding it hard to breathe.
“Eli!” I call out. Okay, it’s more of a scream. Whatever. It does the trick because he stops walking and turns to look at me. And I realize I actually need to say something now other than scream his name.
I take a deep breath, all too aware of his eyes scrutinizing my face.
“I hate people knowing who I am because they treat me differently,” I tell him, having to shout because he’s half way across the lot. “And when they know my name, they Google me, and the stuff that comes up…” I trail off. I don’t want him to look at me differently. I don’t want him to see me as Wayne’s granddaughter or Greg’s daughter or – even worse – the woman who exposed her uncovered nether regions to the nation.
He walks back toward me, reaching out, his hand touching my face. It’s so tender it makes my heart ache even more. His brows are pulled tight, his gaze intense.
And I’m overwhelmed by his closeness. And scared. Of getting hurt by this man who seems to be my friend. Who wants to be more. But being scared isn’t getting me anywhere. It’s just hurting him, too.
“And the thing is, I am interested,” I whisper. “Really interested.”
Breath escapes his lips as he lowers his brow to touch mine. I can feel the flicker of his eyelashes as he blinks.
“But I’m leaving as soon as this job is over,” I tell him. “This thing between us, whatever it is, could only be short term.”
“Just for now.” He nods. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll take that.”
I inhale sharply. I don’t know whether I’m pleased he’s being so amenable or annoyed that he’s not fighting for more. But I don’t want to play games. I want to be real.
I’m so sick of hiding away.
“I need you to do three things though,” I tell him. “Before we do anything else.”
His fingers caress my jaw. “What?”
“First, I want you to Google me.” My chest hurts at the thought of it, but it’s necessary. If he’s annoyed that I kept my family name from him, he’d go crazy about this. “And second, I want you to promise not to tell anybody who I really am.”
“Why would I tell anybody?” he asks me. “It’s not my story to tell.”
I don’t answer him. He’ll find out soon enough. Taking a deep breath, I look straight at him. “And thirdly, I don’t want anyone to know about this. Us, I mean. I don’t want us to be subjected to stupid gossip.”
“You want me to be your secret?”
“No. I just want to keep it separate from work. I like you, Eli. I like spending time with you.” A hint of a smile curls my lips. “And I enjoy wearing your clothes. A lot.”
He laughs.
“But I’ve learned the hard way that dating in public is difficult for women. We get judged in a way men don’t. There’s a reason I’ve never dated at work.” My eyes catch his. “And a reason we’re not allowed to sleep with clients.”
“I’m not your client.”
“But you work for him.”
“I work for your grandpa.”
“Is that any better?” I ask him.
He smiles. “Not really. Because if he finds out what I’ve been thinking about doing to you he’s gonna kick my ass.”
“What have you been thinking?” I ask him.
“Dirty, dirty thoughts.”
My face heats. So do other parts of my body. I want to hear those thoughts so badly. I want him to play them out on my body, the way he plays hockey on the ice. Strong, sure, always on target.
“Can you do those three things for me?” I ask him with a whisper.
“Yeah, I can.” He runs his hand down my back, pushes it up beneath his coat.
“And do you need me to do anything for you?”
He’s drawing circles on my spine.
“I can think of a few things.” His lips twitch. “But no, I don’t need anything. I’m a what you see is what you get kind of guy. No secrets, no issues. Just a huge need to throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to my place.”
He’s smiling now. And I am, too. A little shiver wracks down my spine.
“Thank you,” I whisper. And I mean it. He’s the first man that’s listened to my feelings today and not ridden completely over them.
I’m starting to think he’s the real deal.
