Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5) (4 page)

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 noise 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.

What did Mary have?

No siblings, one good friend, and a handful of freakish clients.

No wonder women like her owned a gaggle of cats. He hated that he stereotyped her, but couldn’t seem to prevent his head from going there.

They stepped outside the sliding doors of the main lobby while they waited for Trent’s arrival.

“You know, Glen . . . you should just ask her out.”

Hadn’t he already done that? Twice?

Not that Mary had shot him down. More like ignored his request. Twisted the invitation and made him question whether he’d actually uttered the words
Let’s go out.

“She has my number,” he said as he placed his sunglasses over his eyes to avoid looking at his sister-in-law.

Monica released half a snort, half a laugh. “Testosterone truly rots the male brain,” she said.

“Is that your medical diagnosis?”

“That’s my
female
diagnosis. Mary is not the kind of woman to make the first move. I’m sure you can see that. Waiting for her to ask you out is an exercise in stupidity.”

He paused. “I think you just called me stupid.”

Monica nodded and pointed two fingers in the air toward him. “Brighter than you appear, flyboy.”

“She’s not interested.”

Monica did that snort thing again.

“She’d be smart not to be interested, but she is.”

“Wait, what? She’d be smart not—”

Monica rested one hand on her hip. “You’re a player, Glen. Admit it.”

“I am not.” He was so a player. Denying it was a knee-jerk reaction.

“When was the last long-term relationship you had?”

He thought about that for a good ten seconds. “Define long-term.”

“Exactly. I’m not sure if it’s by design, intention, or simple bad luck. But you haven’t been terribly unhappy since I’ve met you. Which means you’re either happy being a bachelor and a player or you’re happily holding out for the right girl.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I think you like playing the field.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. I enjoyed the field at one time. I don’t think Mary knows there is a field out there. Yet she can spot someone on it a mile away. Hence her being smart to avoid seeing someone playing it.”

Glen tilted his sunglasses and made sure Monica looked directly at him. “So why are you suggesting I ask her out if you’re so sure I’m wrong for her?”

Monica had this snarky smile that snuck up on you when you weren’t watching. One that told him she knew a hell of a lot more than she let on.

“Because I like Mary. I think she’d find more joy in life if she were less guarded. Dating you could break open that free spirit and help her grasp life a little more than she’s allowing herself. If there is something I’ve learned about you in the past couple years, it’s that you enjoy living.”