not.” She climbed into the seat and pulled the door to. She could hear his laughter as he rounded the car.
“You have yourself a deal, McKenzie,” he said as he climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled his seat belt. “I’ll run with you. When’s your next race?”
“I just did a half marathon on Saturday morning.” She thought over her schedule a moment. “I’m signed up for one on New Year’s Day morning. You should be able to still get signed up. It’s a local charity run so the guidelines aren’t strict.”
“Length?”
“It’s not a real long one, just a five-kilometer. Think you can do that?” she challenged. He was fit, but being fit didn’t mean one could run. She’d learned that with a few friends who’d wanted to go with her. They’d been exercise queens, but not so much into running. McKenzie was the opposite. She was way too uncoordinated to do dancing, or anything that required group coordination, but she was a boss when it came to running.
His lips twitched with obvious amusement at her challenge. “You don’t have the exclusive on running, you know.”
“I’ve never seen you out running,” she pointed out.
“You’ve never seen me take a shower either, but I promise you I do so on a regular basis.”
Lance. In the shower. Naked. Water sluicing over his body. She gulped. Not an image she wanted in her head. “Probably all cold ones.”
Maybe she needed a cold one to douse the images of him in the shower because her imagination was going hot, hot, hot.
He chuckled. “Only lately.”
That got her attention. “You’re taking cold showers because of me?”
“What do you think?”
“That we shouldn’t be having this conversation.” She stared at him, unable to help asking again. “I’m really why you need to take cold showers lately?”
He grinned. “I was only teasing, McKenzie. I haven’t taken a cold shower in years.”
“That I believe.”
“But not that I might be rejected and need cold water?”
“I doubt you’re rejected often.”
“Rarely, but it does happen from time to time.”
“Is that why you’re here with me?”
“Because you rejected me?” He shook his head. “I’m here with you because you were smart enough to say yes to getting frozen yogurt with me.”
“And real food,” she reminded him as he put his car into reverse. “Don’t forget you have to feed me real food before plying me with dessert.”
McKenzie closed her mouth around her spoonful of frozen birthday-cake yogurt and slowly pulled the utensil from her mouth, leaving behind some of the cold, creamy substance.
“Good?”
Her gaze cut to the man sitting across the small round table from her. “What do you think?”
“That watching you eat frozen yogurt should come with a black-label warning.”
“Am I dangerous to your health?”
“Just my peace of mind.”
McKenzie’s lips twitched. “That makes us even.”
They’d gone to a local steak house and McKenzie had gotten grilled chicken, broccoli and a side salad. She’d been so full when they’d left the restaurant that if not for Lance’s insistence that they do their part to support the Toys for Tots, she’d have begged off dessert. She’d been happy to discover the old adage about there always being room for ice cream had held true for frozen yogurt. She was enjoying the cold goodness.
She was also enjoying the company.
Lance had kept their conversation light, fun. They’d talked about everything from their favorite sports teams, to which McKenzie had had to admit she didn’t actually have favorites, to talking about medical school. They’d argued in fun about a new reality singing television program she’d been surprised to learn he watched. Often she’d sit and have the show on while she was logged in to the clinic’s remote computer system and working on her charts. He did the same.
“I’m glad you said yes, McKenzie.”
“To frozen yogurt?”
“To me.”
Taking another bite, she shook her head. “I didn’t say yes to you.”
His eyes twinkled. “That isn’t what I meant. We can take our time in that regard.”
“Really?”
For once he looked completely serious. “As much time as you want and need.”
“What if I never want or need ‘that’?”
“Then I will be reintroduced to cold showers,” he teased, taking a bite of his yogurt and not seeming at all concerned that she might not want or need “that,” which contrarily irked her a bit.
“I’m not going to jump into bed with you tonight.”
“I don’t expect you to.” He was still smiling as if they were talking about the weather rather than his sex life, or potential lack thereof.
“But if I said yes, you would jump into my bed?”
“With pleasure.”
Shaking her head, she let out a long breath. “This morning, had someone told me I’d go out to dinner with you, go for dessert with you, I’d have told them they were wrong. It’s going to take time to get used to the idea that we are an item.”
“Does it usually take a while to get used to the idea of dating someone?”
“Not ever,” she admitted.
“Why me?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because for so long I’ve told myself I’m not allowed to date you.”
“Because of work?”
“Amongst other things.”
“Explain.”
“I’m not sure I can,” she admitted. How could she explain what she didn’t fully understand herself? Even if she could explain it to him, she wasn’t sure she’d want to. “Enough serious conversation. Tell me how you got started in community theater.”
