Mary held in a laugh. “I’m right across the street.”
Dakota placed her hand on hers. “I know. Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d fallen and you weren’t there.”
“You’d have crawled to the phone and dialed 911. It’s not like you’re ninety and had a stroke.”
“Still.”
Words between best friends weren’t needed, but always nice to hear.
“Have we figured out where everyone is staying tonight?” Walt asked when Leo had been passed to his father.
“I suppose we can get a hotel.”
“It’s a little late for that. I have a pullout in my living room.” Mary’s two-bedroom condo had her office space and her bedroom. She didn’t often have overnight guests, so the pullout was perfect. Dakota and Walt’s place was larger, but the nursery took up the guest bedroom.
“I’m staying here a little longer. Mom, Dad . . . you guys can take our room. I’ll crash on the couch when I get home.”
Mary glanced at Glen.
Glen in her space . . . how was that for irony? “Monica can bunk with me . . . you can take the pullout.”
“How can a man pass up an offer like that?”
“Perfect,” Monica said with a yawn. “The thought of dealing with a hotel this late sounds painful. I’ll call Jessie in the morning and book rooms at The Morrison for everyone.”
Once the sleeping arrangements were made, Mary switched car keys with Walt since he had the SUV he’d purchased just a month before in anticipation of Junior . . . ah, Leo. It was going to take some time to get used to calling Leo something other than Junior. Her compact car would be fine for Walt solo.
When the nurse made her second appearance, no one made her crack the visitor whip.
“You didn’t get to hold him,” Dakota noticed.
“I’m sure I’ll get my chance,” Mary said.
Walt returned Leo to Dakota’s arms and several cell phones came out to take pictures of the three of them.
“How do I look?” Dakota asked when Mary checked the picture.
“Like crap. But I’ll clean it up before I post it to your fans.” Yet one more thing Mary loved doing for Dakota and her famous author self.
“I love you.”
“I know.” Mary tucked her phone away and turned toward the door.
Glen had said very little while in the room and now stood by the door, waiting to leave.
He visibly shivered while they waited for the others to join them. “What’s the matter, Glen? Allergic to babies?”
“Maybe I’m cold.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
And he was. She’d yet to meet a player, especially one who had the gold card for the club, who didn’t run from single women with biological ticking clocks. Or a delivery room with a bitty bundle wrapped in a blanket.
“Not allergic,” he conceded. “Just not ready.”
She paused, met his gaze. “I think that’s the first honest thing I’ve heard pass your lips.”
For a brief moment he actually looked offended.
And for a brief moment, she felt bad for saying her thoughts aloud.
“Something I should probably work on.”
Mary didn’t own a cat.
It took every ounce of propriety to not point that out when he stepped into her home.
“The plumber was here working on the downstairs bathroom when I left with Dakota. I’m not sure it’s working.”
Mary pushed past him, turning on lights.
“We’ll make do,” Monica said as she set her small overnight case at the base of the stairs.
“There is another one upstairs.” Mary no sooner let them into the condominium before she was walking back out the door. “I’m just going to make sure Walt’s parents are settled.”
And then she was gone.
“How is it she has so much energy?” Monica asked once Mary flew out the front door.
“Beats me.”
Monica walked into Mary’s small kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She found a bottle of water and waved it in the air. “You might wanna see if her bathroom works down here before we dominate the one upstairs.”
If there was something Glen was not used to doing, it was exploring a woman’s home without her in it. He glanced around the space and moved to a closed door. One look at the toilet lying on its side told him all he needed to know.
“Bummer,” Monica said over his shoulder.
Glen lifted his overnight case and started toward the stairs. “I won’t be long.”
Monica leaned against the counter and tilted her water bottle back.
The doors upstairs were open. He glanced in to see a perfectly made bed, simple white linen and only a couple of pillows. Nothing overly feminine but not a room a man would claim unless he was married.
He didn’t step inside, instead he found a door to the room he needed in the hall. Here, too, everything was perfectly set. Not the messy feminine space he usually identified with the opposite sex. The bathroom had a Jack and Jill setup with one door leading to the master bedroom and the other to the hall. He took another quick look into Mary’s room before closing both doors.
He wanted to linger . . . open doors and search for something, anything that may give him a few more clues to the most evasive woman he’d ever met.
The most intriguing woman, if he was honest with himself. Maybe it was the fact that she didn’t fall over herself to grab his attention that fascinated him.
If he searched her space, would he find something telling? A box of condoms? A prescription of some sort?
God, he was an asshole.
He shook the desire to invade her privacy away and got to the business at hand.
He worked quickly, mainly to get the hell out of there. Or he’d give in to his internal devilish side and poke around. Because the place was so tidy, he found himself making sure there wasn’t one drop on the counter after he brushed his teeth.
When he turned off the light, he heard voices drifting from the bottom floor.
“He’ll be fine,” Monica said.
“I didn’t realize this sofa bed was so short.”
Glen found the two of them moving furniture around in the living room and staring down at the bed he’d call his for the night.
“Looks good to me.” He caught Mary’s eyes.
“You’ll have to sleep sideways.”
He was about to suggest that Monica take the downstairs accommodations and he’d take the space next to Mary, but didn’t think his comment would be well received. “I’ll be fine,” he said instead.
Monica patted Mary on the back. “You play hostess, I’m going to take a quick shower.”
“Okay.”
“Good night, Glen,” Monica said before leaving them alone.
“I’ll get a blanket and pillow.”
Once again, Mary buzzed out of the room, returning less than a minute later with her hands full. “Sorry about the downstairs bathroom,” she apologized. “I thought he’d have it fixed.”
“It’s not like you expected guests.”
“I almost never have guests,” she told him while spreading a sheet over the tiny mattress.
He leaned down to help her. “We appreciate you offering.”
Together they pulled the blanket onto the bed. Glen tested the sofa bed with his weight. The springs offered a little protest but didn’t feel that bad. “Perfect.”
“Probably not. But it will have to do.”
“I’ll be fine, Mary.”
She turned away, then back again. “Help yourself to the kitchen. I’ll leave the hall door open to the bathroom upstairs.”
“Got it.”
She tilted her head and regarded him. “Good night.”
He smiled, purposely waiting for her to look directly into his eyes. “Good night, Mary.”
Her cheeks flushed and he had to hold back a wicked grin.
Thirty minutes later, when the nois
e of the two women upstairs stopped and all Glen could hear was the hum of the refrigerator, he stared at the ceiling and wondered what Mary wore to bed.
As soon as he grew comfortable with the ill-placed spring in the pullout bed, he closed his eyes and fell fast asleep.
The sound of a phone ringing had him springing awake.
Chapter Five
Mary jumped out of bed at the first ring. Her hand reached for the handset by her bedside to find the space where the phone usually lay empty.
In a fog, she scrambled for where the thing could be and all but fell out of her bed.
On the second ring, Monica stirred beside her.
The phone sounded distant. Outside her bedroom door, it grew louder.
Her home phone nearly never rang unless there was an emergency, which gave her feet wings as she flew down the stairs toward the ringing phone. In the reaches of her mind, she noticed dawn breaking through the closed curtains of her living room.
On the fourth ring, she saw the phone on the other side of the sofa bed and went for it. She vaguely realized she’d done a tiny hop, skip, sputter over Glen’s legs before landing on the other side with the phone in her hand. “Mary Kildare,” she answered as if she’d been up for hours.
“Mary, thank God. I’m so sorry to call you on this number.”
The voice was male, not one she recognized at first syllable. “It’s okay . . .”
“It’s Jacob. Jacob Golf.”
The flood of information that followed the man’s name made her sigh. A client, one struggling to keep his marriage together, he was someone who never called unless it was to make or break an appointment. “Hello, Jacob.”
“Nina’s gone. She didn’t come home last night. I called her cell, she didn’t pick up. I texted her, nothing. Her sister doesn’t know where she is.”
He was borderline manic. Though she wasn’t at liberty to diagnosis her clients like a psychiatrist, she knew someone was manic when she saw it. Or in this case, heard it.
“Jacob, calm down. Take a deep breath.”
“Calm down? My wife is gone, Mary.”
“Jacob, listen to me. You’ve called me instead of the police, so you must think she’s not a missing person.”
Her mind was focused on her job, but the man in the bed beside her leaned close when he heard the word police.
“Who’s Jacob?”
“Quiet.” Mary waved Glen’s question off and turned to stare at the wall.
“Why should you care? You get your check every week. And who are you with? I thought you were single?” Jacob started to shout.
That had escalated quickly. “What happened before Nina left?”
“We fought. She’d been out with her friends . . .” He paused. “Drinking. She looked guilty . . . I don’t know what to think.”
Mary knew from her private counseling sessions with Nina that the woman was less than faithful and had encouraged her to come clean with her husband more than once.
That hadn’t happened.
“Did she take any of her things with her?”
“No.”
Mary rubbed her eyes with her back of her hand. It was too early for this. “Then she’ll be back. Unless you think she’s away against her will . . .”
She waited for Jacob to voice what they both knew.
There was a moment of silence too long. “You knew this was going to happen.”
Yes, she did, but she wasn’t about to say that aloud. “Nina didn’t confide in me on this subject.”
“You should have told me.” His voice grew short.
“Jacob—”
“You women stick together. I knew better than to trust in a chick to listen to our problems and make them better.”
This was always hard to hear, even if she knew all of it was misplaced anger and a slightly unstable mind. Sadly, there was more instability out there than not these days. At least with those she worked with.
“I think we should talk when you’re not upset.”
“You probably know where she is.”
Nina had told her Jacob could get unreasonably angry. He’d controlled it during their counseling sessions but seemed to be having a hard time now. “I assure you, I don’t.”
Beside Mary, Glen had swung his legs over the bed and sat listening to her side of the conversation.
“Such a bitch.” His voice was loud enough for Mary to pull the phone away from her ear. “Fucking—”
The word exploded and Glen grabbed the phone.
Before Mary could grab it back, he was yelling into it.
“Listen, asshole, that’s no way to talk to a lady.”
Mary reached for the phone only to have Glen turn away, his bare back to her. “Glen, stop. I have it.” She did not need this intervention.
“I don’t care who you are. Have some respect.”
Mary heard Jacob yelling on the line but couldn’t make out the words. “Glen!”
One more final outburst from the phone and Glen dropped it from his ear. “He hung up.”
She dropped her hands in her lap and glared. “Why did you do that?”
“The guy’s a psycho.”
No use denying that. “And?”
“What, and?”
“I’m a therapist. Dealing with people who aren’t always of a completely sound mind isn’t uncommon.”
Glen ran a hand through his hair and stared at her as if she’d grown horns. “Men calling you, cussing and screaming, is a normal thing?”
“No.” She glanced around the room, ran a hand over her face. “Not at home.” Which gave her pause. How had Jacob gotten her home phone number? She only gave her clients her cell to use in an emergency, a number that offered an automatic reply after business hours to call 911 if there was anything life threatening in progress.
A wife leaving a husband didn’t fall into that category.
“How did Crazy Guy get your home number?”
That she didn’t know.
She shook her head and felt a tiny shiver of worry run down her spine, and dropped her eyes. That’s when she realized that Glen wore tight underwear. Underwear that didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.
Mary diverted her eyes to her own attire.
Tiny shirt and an even smaller pair of sleeping shorts.
Leaving the room without a bathrobe while having guests over was an unexpected event.
“That man sounded unstable to me.”
“You’re the pilot. I’m the therapist.”
Glen sat tall, tossed the phone on the bed between them. “I’m a man unwilling to listen to a woman accept abuse from another man.”
She forced her eyes to his. “So it’s a sexist thing?”
“It’s how I was raised,” was all he offered.
It could be worse, she supposed. “This is my job. People call me when they’re upset and need guidance.”
“At home, in the middle of the night, to blame you for their problems?”
She couldn’t deny that had happened. “Sometimes.”
“I think I’ll stick to flying planes.”
Mary took the phone and stood. “You do that.”
Unlike her initial sail over the bed, this time she walked around it, doing her best to ignore his eyes as they followed her around the room.
“Mary?” He stopped her.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think that guy is really crazy?”
She turned to see him looking directly at her. “His wife just left him. My guess is that would make anyone a little off balance.”
Glen sat taller. “Do you have a gun?”
She narrowed her eyes. “A what?”
“A gun.” He made a motion of pulling a trigger with his fingers. “You know.”
Mary shook her head in despair. “No. I do not own a gun.” To own a gun would mean she could use one. And she didn’t think she could.
“I’d feel better if you had a gun.”
She regarded him for
a moment. “It’s a good thing my welfare is none of your concern then.”
His stare went directly through her, his lips lost all expression.
“That was uncalled for. I’m sorry.”
He broke eye contact, leaned over the bed, and grabbed the jeans he’d been wearing the night before.
“I’m . . . really sorry.”
“Let it go,” he told her as he jerked his pants on.
A voice told her to drop it, but her heart sang a different tune. She approached him and placed a hand on his arm. “I could tell you I’m not awake, that I’m upset about that call. But the truth is I’m not used to hearing that someone cares about my well-being. I wasn’t sure how to respond and I did so poorly.”
He stopped short of zipping up his pants and let his arms drop to his sides. “I think that might be the first honest thing I’ve heard come from your lips.”
She thought of her own observation she’d made about him the previous day and let a slow smile simmer over her lips. “Touché.”
They arrived back at the hospital just before noon.
The place had exploded with people and flowers. While Glen had no real need to return to baby central, he kept his return flight on standby, using the excuse that he needed to await his brother’s arrival before justifying his trip home.
“You really don’t have to babysit me,” Monica told him as they took one more trip down to the lobby of the hospital.
“I’m not babysitting you.”
His sister-in-law regarded him out of the corner of her eye. “Is this about Mary?”
He shrugged. “That guy who called this morning was a complete freak.”
“A freak she calls a client.”
He couldn’t shake the edge of the man’s voice from his system. Nor the way Mary’s face had looked when Glen had asked her how the guy managed to find her personal phone number.
Oh, she might try and act as if all was running normal in her world, but he somehow knew this wasn’t standard operating procedure.
Then there was the part about her not having someone in her life to care. He knew Mary and Dakota were tight, but he’d also heard just enough about her history to know he and Mary were both orphans. Although Mary’s biological parents had never been a part of her life, Glen’s had passed away when he was an adult. He’d always had his brothers and the company his father had founded to keep him occupied.
Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5) Page 4
