Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5) (21 page)

Halfway through the meal Mary realized she’d all but removed herself from the conversation. She listened to Burke talk about his career before he’d retired. He spoke of his children and his late wife.

Glen touched on Fairchild Charters and explained that his parents were gone.

It was during a discussion of loss that snapped Mary out of her unease.

“The past is what molds you, it’s what you do with that mold that counts,” Burke said. He lifted Mary Frances’s hand from the table and kissed the back of it.

There was happiness in the woman’s smile that Mary hadn’t seen before.

“Mary Frances says you have grandchildren.”

Burke seemed pleased with her change in the subject. “I do. Would you like to see pictures?”

“Of course.”

Burke pulled a phone out of his back pocket and placed a pair of reading glasses on the edge of his nose.

Mary Frances met her eyes from across the table.

Mary mouthed the words
I love you
and turned her attention to Burke’s pride and joys.

When the evening wore down and Burke took his leave, he kissed each of Mary’s cheeks and told her she’d been a delight.

The older couple walked out of the house to say good-bye without an audience, and Mary stayed in the kitchen cleaning up.

“Feeling better?” Glen asked when they were alone.

“Yes. It’s just strange.”

He moved in behind her, dropped his lips to the side of her ear. “I think he’s good for her.”

“So do I. It would be easier if I didn’t like him.”

“I doubt that.”

Glen pulled up his sleeves and started in with the dishes.

“Mary Frances is precious. I think she kept talking about her virginity just to get you used to the fact she may not always have it.”

Mary couldn’t help but laugh. “Probably. It must be crazy strange for Burke to know that if they do . . .” She tried to picture it, winced, and squeezed the image from her brain. “Never mind.”

Glen bumped her shoulder, handed her a clean dish to dry. “You’ll survive.”

The front door opened and closed.

“Oh, good. I dislike doing dishes.” Mary Frances sat at the table and finished her wine. “Burke thinks you’re lovely. I told him he had great taste.”

Glen jumped in. “How nice of him, tell him I liked him, too.”

“Always the charmer, this one.”

“He’s everything you said he would be,” Mary said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more social when he first arrived.”

“No worries. We both expected as much. With all the change you’ve had in your life, this one was bound to toss you down the rabbit hole.”

“That didn’t mean I needed to be rude.”

“Nothing twenty Our Fathers won’t remove.”

They both laughed.

Mary Frances jumped up. “Oh, before I forget. The property tax bill came directly to the house. I’m not sure why.” She pulled the papers from her stack on the small workspace that sat on one end of the tiny kitchen. “I didn’t want you to miss it. I considered taking care of it myself.”

“Don’t even think of it.”

“I do make some money.”

Mary noticed Glen watching her during the conversation.

“We’ve had this discussion. Just put the bill in my purse. I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay, dear.”

Mary Frances left the room and Glen leaned over. “What’s that about?”

“I, ah . . . I take care of it. This.” She looked over their heads.

“The house?”

“When she left the order she left with nothing. Her real sister helped her out those first few years, once I graduated and started to make a living, I took over.”

“You bought her a house?”

“Prices are nothing here.”

Glen stopped washing dishes. “No wonder you’ve been so concerned about the cost of everything. You’re supporting two households on one income.”

Mary dried the last dish and put it away. “I try to put some away for emergencies. I just didn’t expect so many in one month. I’ll recover.”

He leaned over, kissed her fully. “You’re a beautiful person.”

She felt her cheeks flush. “Ah, you’re just saying that to get lucky.”

He kissed her again and Mary Frances walked back in the room. “Well that’s one way to whistle while you work.”

“She keeps attacking me, Mary Frances. You might have to talk to her about that.”

“For Pete’s sake!” Mary pushed away from Glen.

“It’s about my bedtime,” Mary Frances exclaimed. “Glen, I put a blanket and pillow on the couch for you.”

Mary and Glen exchanged glances.

“That isn’t necessary,” Mary said.

“Oh yes it is. Boyfriend is not the same as husband. Glen sleeps on the couch.”

“But you know that we’ve—”

Mary Frances stopped her with a wave of her hand. “Oh I’m sure that you’ve . . . but not in my home.” She turned and patted Glen on the shoulder. “Besides, abstinence is good for the soul. I’m sure Glen won’t mind.”

Glen eyed the sofa. The small couch that didn’t pull out into a bed.

“You kids get some sleep. We leave at seven for church.”

Glen’s eyes got wider.

Mary Frances hugged Mary, kissed her cheek.

Glen didn’t go unhugged and kissed too before she left them alone.

“Separate beds.”

Mary flopped on the couch. “You weren’t going to get any anyway.”

Glen sat beside her. “Oh?”

She shook her head. “Started my period.”

“Ah.” Glen put his arm around her and pulled her close beside him. “Doesn’t mean we can’t cuddle.”

She toed off her shoes and tucked her legs under her bottom. “It doesn’t bother you to know about my cycle?”

He played with the edges of her hair. “I’m the exclusive boyfriend. I need to know about these things.”

She closed her eyes and snuggled closer. “Feels strange telling you.”

“Get over it. Now, about church . . .”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The first night back on the East Coast while Mary was on the West Coast was the hardest.

He made an hourly check-in once he knew she was home from work. First was a text . . . then a call. He stopped at midnight, then tossed and turned until two in the morning.

By Wednesday he managed to get some significant work done, distracted in the middle of his day by a brief phone call from Mary.

“Is it me, or does it feel quiet after all of last week’s excitement?” she asked.

“It’s not you.”

“As the days go on, I can’t help but wonder if maybe everything was random. If someone had something personal against me, wouldn’t they be back for more?”

“I don’t want to think like that.” But the answer was yes. “What about that Jacob guy?”

“I haven’t seen him. His wife said he took off to a cabin they used to visit every summer to regroup.”

“Any idea how long he’s been out of town?”

“I have no idea. He has a job, so I doubt it’s been long.”

Glen glanced out his office window. “Might be why it’s been quiet around there.”

Mary sighed. “I’ve thought of that.”

“So you think he might be behind this?”

“I think I’ve put every client I know in the position of vandal in my head. Jacob being the most recent person who’s been belligerent with me makes him an easy target.”

“I think you should tell the police about him.”

“That isn’t going to happen without something more than just one outburst. Besides, it isn’t always the loud ones that are the problem. It’s the quiet ones who can’t vocalize their feelings who take it out in passive-aggressive ways.”

“Like trashing your place when you’re not there.”

“Exactly.”

“And who is on your list that fits that profile?”

“Oh, I don’t know . . . everyone else.”

“Great!”

“Anyway, how is your day? Have your brokers come up with any new marketing plans?”

Glen leaned against the glass, grinning. Mary actually listened and remembered. “We actually have a few plans to target for the summer travel season.” He bounced a few ideas off of her, found her genuine interest warming to his soul. When he hung up, she was running off to lunch and he had a meeting to attend.

Seemed to him, the East Coast–West Coast relationship was working out really well.

Mary was sinking her teeth into her Reuben when Kent pulled up to the empty space beside her.

“Hey,” she said around her food.

He pointed down. “Am I good here?”

She nodded and wiped her mouth, washed the food down with her tea. “You’re fine.”

He glanced around. “I thought maybe your friend was joining you again.”

“Glen? Ah, no. He’s not here. He’s doesn’t actually live here.”

Kent accepted the ice water Carla set in front of him. “Is that right?”

“He’s on the East Coast.”

“That doesn’t sound terribly convenient.”

She lifted her sandwich for another bite, hesitated before saying, “He’s a pilot, so . . . it works. Except when my car breaks down. Thanks again, by the way.” She filled her mouth.

Kent seemed to take in the information slowly. “I suppose if you’re both committed to making it work, then good for you.”

She smiled, tried not to look smug. “So far.”

Carla set a Reuben in front of Kent. “Thanks, hon.”

Carla winked, moved on down the line.

“Is your car still in the shop?”

Mary set her sandwich down and shook her head. “The guy did a number on it. It won’t be running for another week and then it goes to the body shop.”

Kent just stared at her. “What guy?”

“Someone broke into my house . . . ripped it up a bit. Messed up my car.”

“What?” There was outrage in his voice.

“Someone with a Napoleon complex, I’m sure. Anyway . . . yeah, my car won’t be back with me for a while.”

“That sounds awful. Any idea who did it?”

“No clue.”

“Are you concerned . . . living alone?”

“I’m not going to let this person win by living in a bubble. I’m being more careful. The police have been in the neighborhood more since the incident.”

Kent reached into his suit pocket and removed a card. He took a pen and wrote on the back of it. “Here is my number. If you need someone to walk you to your car, just check on you . . .”

Mary hesitated. She didn’t want the man to get the wrong idea.

“For your safety, Mary. I know you’re dating East Coast guy. I can’t help but wonder if that will work, but I get the hint. I’d like to think we’re friends. If I had a girlfriend as gorgeous as you, I’d like to know there was someone watching out for her when I couldn’t be there.”

When he put it that way, it felt wrong not to take his number. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“I think I need a drawer,” Glen said from her bathroom the following Saturday morning.

He’d arrived in time to take her out to dinner Friday night, made love to her until one in the morning, and now stood in her bathroom brushing his teeth.

“A drawer?”

“You know . . . the boyfriend drawer.”

She hid a smile behind her palm with a tiny squeak she knew he couldn’t hear. She’d never been in a relationship long enough to warrant a drawer. “What makes you think you’re drawer-worthy?”

She stood over the very place his drawer would be, removed a pair of panties, and slid them on.

“I think the exclusive boyfriend is entitled to a drawer.”

Mary found a matching bra, hooked herself in, and dropped the bathrobe she’d put on after her shower. “Does that mean I can have a drawer at your place?”

“Of course . . .” He had a toothbrush in his mouth, so
of course
sounded more like
ah cus
. The water in the sink was turned on, then off. “But you might wanna come over at least once to see if you even want a drawer at my place.”

It was kind of strange that she’d yet to step foot in Glen’s home. “I have to be invited.”

“Oh, sweetheart . . . you are always invited.”

She smiled into the thought and walked to the doorway to the bathroom. Glen had a towel wrapped around his waist, his bare, sculpted chest stared at her in the mirror. “Have you ever had a drawer at a girlfriend’s house?” she asked.

Through the mirror, he let his eyes fall up and down her frame. He licked his lips. “I’ve never had a girlfriend before. The drawer never came into question.”

She found that hard to believe. “You’ve dated a lot of women.”

“Dated. Some of them more than once.”

“Not one girlfriend?”

“I don’t count high school. And drawers weren’t an option back then.”

“Someone in college, surely?”

“I can give you Jason’s number if you don’t believe me.”

“So I’m your first real girlfriend?” It sounded strange coming out of her mouth.

“Some might claim they were, but none that I would agree to.”

She ran a hand through her wet hair in thought. “What is your definition of girlfriend?”

He pointed at her through the mirror.

“C’mon . . . that sounds like a line. Seriously, why me?”

Glen turned around with disbelief in his eyes. “Why
not
you?”

“I can think of a hundred reasons. Geography alone makes it difficult.”

“I’ve seen you more in the past two months than either of my brothers, and we work in the same building. Give me another reason.”

“I’m independent.”

“A complete turn-on. I like you needy in bed, however.”

“I’m opinionated and demanding.”

“Women who roll over to please a man nauseate me. They’re fake and it’s only a matter of time before they let their true self come out. Then it’s usually ugly.”

She still wasn’t convinced.

“You’re beautiful,” he told her.

“Beauty fades.”

“You challenge me.” His smirk deserved a place on the billboards of snarky smiles. “I like that!” He stepped closer. “You surprise and inspire me.”

“Inspire?”

“Shocking, huh? Well, you do. Your honesty is refreshing and out of character for nearly everyone I know. You don’t deliver your honesty in any way other than constructive.”

“Side effect of my job.”

“Don’t care how you came about it . . . it’s a wonderful quality . . . and girlfriend-worthy.” By now he was standing over her, his hand on the side of her face.

“And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“My mom would have liked you.”

The mom card nailed it. “Okay, fine . . . you can have a drawer.”

He grinned like a kid who’d just scored ice cream for free.

Monday afternoon, she arrived home to find a bouquet of flowers on her doorstep. There wasn’t a card, but she knew who they were from.

She set them in her kitchen and smiled every time she passed by.

The following weekend, Glen flew her to Connecticut.

Glen picked her up from the airport and drove her straight to his house. His gated community offered a layer of security that he’d always taken for granted until the day he walked into Mary’s trashed condo.

His house sat on over an acre of land, with enough distance from his neighbors to not know when they were arguing or cooking fish. The house was temporary; he’d known that when he’d bought it shortly after his parents had died.

He always thought he’d land in Manhattan. Avoid the commute . . . but owning a company with things like airplanes and helicopters had its perks. And Glen wasn’t opposed to public transportation. He avoided driving at peak hours in the city. Many would argue there was such a rush-hour monster in Manhattan. The city was a twenty-four hour driving nightmare. And if things got hairy and business demanded attention, there was always The Morrison not far away.

He had it good.

And he knew it.

He gave Mary the nickel tour of his home before sweeping her out the door with the promise of showing her more later. “We have somewhere to be,” he told her.

“Everything is so green,” she said as he drove her toward their destination.

“You can blame the snow and rain for that.”

She glanced out the car window. “Not today.”

He smiled. “Perfect day for what I have planned.”

Glen drove past the gates of his family estate . . . the home he’d grown up in . . . the house where Jason now lived. They’d all been given the option to live there after their parents’ death. Trent had immediately moved to Jamaica, where he spent several years drowning in his own sorrow and guilt. Glen couldn’t bring himself to stay there, and Jason couldn’t bring himself to leave.