“So we’re mates till this blows over, and then you disappear, and we fake break up?” She looks contemplative. “Can mated pairs even break up?”
“With difficulty,” I inform her. “It’s an option, to be sure. Or you can continue to use my name to get you out of dates, if you prefer. It doesn’t matter to me. You can spin whatever story you like when I’m gone.”
“How romantic,” she laughs.
“I assure you, this is a business transaction, Dr. Carter. Romance won’t be a part of it.”
She smiles wide then, all perfect white teeth and little dimples in her cheeks that my eyes linger on for a second too long, seeming to be finding this entire conversation mildly amusing. “Right,” she says. “That sounds perfect.”
I feel the knot in my stomach begin to unwind, but only slightly. “It does?”
“I mean, I get to be free of the dating scene and have a leg up on the Boogeyman of Denver General?”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t worry, they don’t actually call you that.” At my frown, she adds, “Well, most of them don’t.”
“Does this mean . . .” I can actually feel nerves fluttering in my chest, the possibility of all my hard work slipping through my fingertips because of something as silly as my genetic makeup being utterly unacceptable. “Does this mean that you’ll do it?”
“Hm.” She taps her chin with her finger, looking more pleased with herself than I’d like. “I mean, it does sound kind of fun.”
“Dr. Carter, we don’t have time for—”
“It’s Mack,” she interrupts. “Everyone calls me Mack. I think we’re past ‘Dr. Carter,’ given that you’re asking me to allow everyone to think I let you sleep with me on a regular basis.”
I feel my throat go dry, her crassness doing something entirely different than what it should. Something hot flares in my chest at the brief flash of images that crop up from her crude joke that I absolutely don’t have time or need for, and I quickly shove them down as I keep my expression blank.
“Mack? Your name is Mack?”
“Eh . . . I mean, technically it’s Mackenzie, but no one calls me that except my gran.”
“I think I prefer Mackenzie.”
“Somehow this doesn’t surprise me,” she chuckles. “Fine. Whatever. I don’t care what you call me.”
“So . . . is that a yes?”
“You have to meet my gran at some point. If I do this, you’re going to really sell it on my end. I’m talking about family dinner, anecdotes—the whole nine yards. I don’t want my gran pulling out her little black book for a good while.”
I’m sure my displeasure toward the idea is written all over my face, but I see little other choice. “Fine. I can . . . do dinner.”
I wait as she stares back at me, every second settling heavily on my skin like a weighted blanket. Finally, she takes in one long breath before she blows it out, her expression telling me that she might be as surprised by her answer as I am.
“Yeah,” she says, sounding only half-sure. “I’ll do it.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath until the air rushes past my lips in relief. I nod slowly, checking the time on the wall as I prepare to lay down my plan that can hardly be called anything other than “on the fly,” and praying that it will be enough to buy me the time I need to sort out this mess. Maybe even find the bastard who sold me out and make them regret it. I think to myself that I might have misjudged Dr. Cart—or rather, Mackenzie—finding her to be far more reasonable than I had previously thought. This could even be a fairly pain-free process.
“So,” she says with more amusement than I think is necessary. “What’s the plan, hubby?”
I have to stifle a groan.
On second thought . . .
3
Mackenzie
“Why don’t you explain this to me like I’m five,” Parker says, dumbfounded.
I pause from unwrapping my candy bar, unsure of how I can elaborate any more than I already have. “What part aren’t you getting?”
My best friend of sixteen years sits in his little cubicle in the IT room down in the basement level, looking at me as if I’m barking at him rather than speaking. It’s actually funny, since he’s seen me shift dozens of times over the course of our friendship. Not that Parker is laughing. In fact, his usual pale cheeks are colored with a tinge of scarlet that I’m well aware comes from anxiety. It makes his freckles stand out more, which I am also well aware annoys him.