Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5)

by Catherine Bybee

  “Glen?”

  “Hmm?” His hands tightened around her waist.

  “Thank you, for tonight.”

  He pushed himself away and kissed her forehead. “It was my pleasure.”

  “Good night.”

  He took his cue and stood back while she opened her door. “Sleep well, Mary.”

  She closed the door behind her, leaned against it, and hugged herself with a completely adolescent smile.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mary’s phone buzzed next to her bed. One glance at the screen had her rolling over and texting back.

  Yes, Dakota. I’m alone.

  She tossed the phone down and rolled over.

  She’d no sooner fallen back asleep than Dakota’s voice rang from downstairs. “I’m making coffee!”

  Mary groaned. “I hate you,” she yelled.

  “Hate me later. I’m a gimp, remember? And what the hell is all this plastic down here?”

  She forced herself upright in bed. The first thing she saw was Glen’s jacket, which he’d failed to take off her shoulders before he drove away. She crawled toward it and brought it up to her nose. Everything twisted inside.

  Mary pushed into a bathrobe and padded barefoot downstairs.

  Dakota stood on crutches as she removed coffee cups from Mary’s cupboard.

  “What are you doing?”

  Dakota turned and stared . . . she waited a few seconds and said, “You didn’t get laid.”

  “Oh my God, Dakota.” Mary expected nothing less from her friend.

  “Why?”

  “It was our first date.”

  “A long-awaited first date. And you haven’t had sex since Jesus was a lad.”

  Mary moved to take the cups out of Dakota’s hands. “Sometimes I hate that you know everything about my sex life.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  No, she didn’t. “We didn’t have sex because . . .” Why didn’t we have sex? “Glen . . .” How was she going to put this.

  “Glen didn’t want to?” Dakota’s voice rose two octaves.

  “Oh, no . . . he wanted to. We both . . .” Mary pointed to the kitchen table. “Sit. You’re making me nervous.”

  She poured them coffee, mixed in cream and sugar for the both of them, and sat down. “He took me to San Francisco.”

  Dakota gave a full tooth grin. “I got your text.”

  “We flew from the airport into the city on a helicopter.”

  “Eeek!”

  “I know. Seriously great moves. Oh, but wait . . . he kissed me before we left.”

  “What? Before you left here?”

  “Yeah.” Mary gave Dakota a play-by-play, they both squealed when she described things like how he gave her his jacket, ordered for her when she refused . . . and how he refused to come in because he didn’t want Mary to think he’d spent all those first date efforts to get some horizontal naked time.

  “Oh, man. I didn’t realize Glen could be so romantic.”

  “Me either. We didn’t even argue. We always argue.”

  “You two bicker like an old married couple. It’s hysterical.”

  “We do, don’t we?”

  Dakota reached over and patted her hand. “This could be the start of something good.”

  Monica’s words tossed around in her head. “I’m going to enjoy it, even if it’s not a start. No regrets.”

  “Good.” Dakota sipped her coffee. “So when will you see him again?”

  “I don’t know; we didn’t talk about it.”

  “It’s not like he can meet you for lunch.”

  “He would be a complete distraction if he lived here.”

  “Distractions are good.”

  They turned the conversation over to Dakota and Leo, and by the time they were finishing their coffee Mary’s phone was ringing.

  The girlie squeal thing would end eventually . . . but she enjoyed it now. “Hi, Glen.”

  “You sound wide awake.”

  And he sounded delicious. “That’s because Dakota hobbled over here at the crack of dawn.”

  Dakota swished at her with both her hands.

  “Good thing I didn’t stay over then.”

  “Oh, she texted first to make sure I was alone.”

  Glen’s laughter filled the line. “Glad you ladies have a protocol.”

  “Like a tie on the door at the dorms. Are you on the way to the airport?”

  “Nope, already in the air.”

  “Makes me wonder how many hours a year you’re up there.”

  “Probably about as many as you’re in your car. Hold on.” She heard him talking to the copilot.

  “What’s he saying?” Dakota whispered.

  “What are we? In high school?” Mary giggled.

  Dakota nodded with enthusiasm.

  “You there?” Glen asked.

  “Aren’t there laws about talking on cell phones while flying?”

  “No. We don’t get pulled over for speeding either.”

  “Keeps your insurance rates down then.”

  Glen was laughing again. “So, next weekend?”

  “This weekend isn’t even over yet.”

  “Let me rephrase. Next Saturday . . .”

  “That would be the day after Friday,” she teased.

  Dakota slapped the edge of the table and held in a laugh.

  “You like pulling my chain, woman.”

  “I haven’t pulled your chain yet.” The words fell out of her mouth so fast she couldn’t close it quick enough.

  Dakota roared with laughter and Glen’s silence on the line made her cringe.

  “Who are you and what did you do with that innocent woman I took to dinner last night?” he asked.

  “I told you my mouth got me in trouble.”

  “I’ll remember that. We’ll circle back to that chain a little later. Saturday at eleven in the morning.”

  She waited for more.

  Silence.

  “Are you asking?”

  “Hell no. Why ruin what’s working?”

  True.

  “What should I wear?”

  “Casual. We’ll be outside and it will be in the eighties. And bring a swimsuit . . . just in case.”

  “A swimsuit?”

  Dakota’s eyes lit up.

  “Unless you like jumping in the water fully clothed.”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Glad we have that settled then. I’ll text you later about that chain pulling.”

  “Good-bye, Glen.”

  He disconnected the call and Dakota and Mary squealed.

  The plumber didn’t show up Monday as scheduled. They’d broken the blade to the concrete saw they needed to use to open up the floor and a new one wouldn’t come in until Wednesday, the day the job was supposed to be completed.

  Monday was an evening work schedule for her. Not all of her clients were available to talk in the middle of the workweek.

  Her routine for the past three years was to do her laundry on Mondays along with her grocery shopping. Wednesday afternoons were set aside for cleaning, which would have worked out perfectly if the plumbers were done, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  Instead of grocery shopping, she found herself at the mall searching out a new swimsuit. This was normally a job for her BFF to join her on, but alas . . . Dakota was a tad busy with baby Leo’s first pediatrician appointment.

  Thank God for cell phones.

  With a dozen different bathing suits in hand, Mary stepped into the dressing room that had the worst invention known to man, fluorescent lights. She faced the three-way mirror and cringed. The first suit she tried on was a white one-piece with tiny black polka dots. She snapped a picture and sent it to Dakota, who was waiting to help her out.

  Please tell me you have bikinis to try on.

  This one is cute. She didn’t have enough of a tan for white.

  Mary slid out of the suit and into another one-piece.

  Her phone buzzed.
She glanced down, expecting to see Dakota chiding her, and instead found Glen.

  Hey, Counselor.

  Hey yourself. This is a new way to communicate.

  The blue suit was strapless. She snapped a picture and sent it to Dakota.

  Her phone buzzed twice.

  I’m in a meeting and bored out of my head.

  Mary leaned against the dressing room wall. Aren’t you the boss? Can’t you just leave?

  She switched conversations. That one doesn’t show your cleavage. BIKINI! Dakota shouted.

  Another suit went to the no pile.

  I called the meeting. Hence, I can’t leave.

  Mary went for the red bikini, stopped between the top and the bottoms to reply to Glen. Poor baby.

  Well? Dakota had the patience of a teenager with the car keys.

  Give me a second.

  The bikini was right up Dakota’s street. Skimpy with tons of cleavage. Mary snapped a picture.

  Are you teasing me? Glen asked.

  Yes I am! She enjoyed the banter. Even via texting.

  Mary sent the picture with the question. Don’t you think my ass needs more coverage? Dakota would be straight up if it was too small. She took it off and put on the black two-piece that she felt would be a better fit.

  Her phone buzzed.

  Well? Did your phone die? Dakota’s question caught her off guard.

  Didn’t you get the . . . oh shit!

  Mary’s heart kicked in her chest when she switched back to Glen’s screen. Sure enough, there she was, red bikini with a question about her ass.

  Her phone rang, and she nearly dropped it.

  Oh, God. Oh, God.

  It was Glen.

  Her hands shook. “That picture wasn’t meant for you.”

  “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “It wasn’t. I swear.” She sat on the dressing room bench holding her head with one hand, her phone in the other.

  “My employees think I’ve lost it.”

  Her embarrassment turned to laughter.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “It’s kinda funny.”

  “So if that wasn’t meant for me, who are you sending bathing suit pictures to?”

  “Dakota. I’m shopping and she couldn’t come with me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I swear.”

  “Well . . . in that case. If you’re shopping for next weekend, and you’re wearing that for me, no your ass doesn’t need more coverage.”

  Oh, just kill me now.

  “If you’re shopping for another weekend when I won’t be with you, then yes, it needs more coverage.”

  She was holding in her laughter so hard she teared up. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  Her phone buzzed. “Dakota is texting me. She’s going to think I abandoned her.”

  “I might have to post this on Instagram.”

  She stopped laughing. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Buy that one.”

  “It’s too small.”

  “Instagram is one click away.”

  “Okay, okay . . . don’t, Glen.”

  “Buy it and I won’t.”

  “I’ll get you back for this.”

  “Sounds like a promise, Counselor.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?” she asked.

  “Buy it.”

  “Good-bye, Glen.”

  He hung up.

  She didn’t even try to explain what happened to Dakota in a text. By the time she left the dressing room, the employees probably wondered if she’d used the space as a phone booth.

  She put both the red and the black bikinis on the counter and offered a coy smile to the teenager at the register.

  Mary glanced at her phone and the picture of her standing in the three-way mirror with too much of her butt sticking out and laughed all the way home.

  “I met someone.”

  Mary’s jaw dropped. “You what?”

  “We both volunteer at the homeless shelter. I was serving the potatoes, he was serving the chicken.”

  Mary saw stars and dropped into one of her patio chairs, pressing the phone to her ear. “Okay, when you say you met someone . . . you mean you met someone, met someone?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know what it means.”

  “I don’t know. You’re going to have to spell it out for me.”

  “Sister Mary Frances!”

  “She is not here, m’dear. Hasn’t been for nearly ten years.”

  “Mary Frances!”

  “That’s better.” To say she was shocked would be a vast understatement. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “Believe me, I’m just as surprised as you.”

  “That isn’t likely.”

  “He’s very charming, Mary. You’d like him.”

  “You’re dating.” It wasn’t a question.

  “We’ve had coffee . . . and pie.”

  “Coffee and pie?” She was not hearing this. The woman who all but raised her . . . the nun—who’d all but raised her—was dating.

  “He’s a widower. His children are grown, has two adorable grandchildren—”

  “Wait! You’re . . . you’re dating.”

  “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

  “You don’t date . . . you can’t.” Mary wanted to retract the words once she said them out loud.

  “Technically, I can.” Sister Mary’s words started to clip.

  “I’m sorry. I’m shocked. I’m not saying the right things.”

  “Perhaps we should speak another time.”

  “No. I’m sorry. Truly.” Mary remembered how hard it had been when Mary Frances left the order. Only one of her sisters kept in touch, the others refused since the Mother Superior had forbidden it. It took nearly five years for the church to recognize she was gone, and even then, Mary Frances mourned what she’d given her life to as if she were a scorned woman divorced from the love of her life. Mary pulled in a breath. “Tell me about your widower. What’s his name?”

  Mary Frances paused. “Do you really want to hear this?”

  “I do.”

  “His name is Burke. He’s originally from South Wales.”

  “Does he have an accent?”

  Mary Frances sighed . . . like a girlie sigh, and Mary had to hold back her tongue.

  “He does! He sounds so astute. And he’s funny. You’ll really enjoy him, Mary.”

  Mary gritted her teeth and smiled as she spoke. “How long have you known him?”

  “A couple of months now.”

  Mary punched a fist in the air. “And you’re just now telling me?” She kept her voice slow and measured.

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t approve.”

  I don’t!

  “That you’d be upset,” she continued.

  Mary forced herself to calm down and speak the truth. “I am . . .”

  “Is this because of the church?”

  “No.” And it wasn’t. She was more self-aware than that. “You’re the closest thing to a mother as I’ve ever had.”

  “Oh, Mary . . .”

  “I’d imagine any child having some difficulty finding out their parent was dating after a long relationship.”

  There was a pause on the line. “I suppose that’s true.”

  “But it’s not because of the church. Please know that holds no weight in my feelings.”

  “Oh, c’mon.” Mary Frances always cut the bull.

  “All right. Perhaps a little.” Mary didn’t want to vocalize her concerns about Mary Frances having sex. Just thinking about it had Mary squeezing her eyes closed. “But only because I knew you for so many years as someone that didn’t date.”

  “Coffee and pie is hardly dating.”

  “Pie could be the night before, and coffee could be the morning after.”

  “Mary Colette Kildare!”

  Oh, the
middle name came out.

  “Sorry.”

  “I should think so.”

  Because Mary was who Mary was, she added. “But it could be.”

  “It isn’t!” There was laughter in Mary Frances’s voice.

  This was going to take some time to get used to.

  “Tell me about Dakota’s son.”

  They spent the next ten minutes talking about Leo . . . about Dakota’s “trip down the stairs” and Mary’s plumbing problems. When she hung up she realized she hadn’t mentioned Glen. She knew immediately why. Mary Frances’s excitement about her own personal life didn’t need any interference from hers.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ever since Mary’s bikini picture, Glen could think of nothing else. In fact, he saved the picture and referred back to it several times a day.

  And it was only Thursday.

  He had every intention of flying out Friday after work but knew he wouldn’t pick her up until the time he’d told her.

  “You’re flying back to LA?” Jason asked while they had their weekly lunch meeting.

  Glen ate three french fries at a time. “I’m taking Mary out.”

  “The blonde.”

  “Is there another Mary?”

  “What is up with my brothers and blondes?” Jason teased.

  Glen simply shoved more fries in his mouth and grinned.

  “She doesn’t seem like your type,” Jason said.

  “Oh?” And what did Jason think was his type?

  “You know. Too reserved. I thought you liked ’em a little more . . . I don’t know . . .”

  Glen removed his phone from his pocket and pulled up the bikini image of Mary and turned his phone around.

  “Oh, wow.”

  When Jason grabbed his wrist to get a closer look, Glen pulled it back, suddenly feeling like showing his brother the picture had been the wrong thing to do.

  Since when did he hold a moral code for that?

  “That was Mary?”

  “Yeah, forget I showed you that.”

  “Let me see that again.”

  “No.” He put his phone away.

  “Whoa . . . okay. Sorry. That didn’t look like the Mary I know.”

  Glen shook off his unease. “She’s the same Mary . . . just more playful than you’d think.”

  “Clearly.”

  Glen glared.

  “Sorry.”

  “Anyway,” he said, changing the subject. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll be back Sunday.”