Not Quite Perfect

“What are we doing out here?” she asked, folding her arms around herself.

Glen answered her question with his lips.

Mary answered back.

Chapter Eighteen

Dinner moved on to dancing and a raffle.

Mary watched the rich and famous elbow rub. She’d been dragged from Glen’s side a couple of times by either Monica or her sister, Jessie. As Glen had told her, the Morrisons were some of the kindest people she’d ever met. And yes, Gaylord made it very clear that she’d best not even think to stay in a hotel that didn’t have his name on it unless she was in a remote part of the world where he didn’t have a hotel. “There’s always empty rooms, so don’t feel like you’re putting anyone out.”

Glen swept her onto the dance floor twice, then said he needed to put some distance between them unless he wanted to end the evening too quickly or embarrass himself with a teenage hard-on all night.

Just after midnight they made their way to the room, made it as far as the door to Mary’s room before clothes started falling like rain on a Seattle night.

Later, Mary laid her head on Glen’s bare chest, one leg draped over his. “We didn’t cut out too soon, did we?” she asked.

“We cut out just in time.”

She let her eyes drift closed. “You have a wonderful family. I don’t want to offend them.”

“You don’t have to worry about things like that.”

Mary’s eyes opened with his words. Did she not have to worry because her time in his life was limited? Offending his family, his colleagues, didn’t matter if she wouldn’t be around next year during this event?

Enjoy the moment, Mary.

The sound of her cell phone, plugged in on her side of the bed, pulled her from her sleep.

Glen rolled to his side and laid an arm around her bare waist.

Her cell rang again and had her wiping her eyes into focus. The blackout curtains in the room did a great job of hiding the time. It was after eight but felt like the middle of the night.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded as foggy as her head.

“Mary? Hey, it’s Dakota.”

“I recognize your voice . . . is everything okay? It’s early there.”

“Who is it?” Glen asked with one eye open.

“It’s Dakota.”

“Hmm . . .” Glen closed his eye to match the other and swept her hips closer to his.

“Is that Glen?” Dakota asked.

“Yes, Captain Obvious. We aren’t out of bed yet . . . late night. If this is a social call, I’ll call you in a couple of hours.” Mary switched the phone to the other hand. “Dakota?”

“Sorry . . . no, uh, it’s not, social. Not a social call.”

Mary leaned up on one arm and attempted to wake up. “What’s up?”

“I’m not sure how to say this.” Dakota’s voice wavered.

Dakota’s voice never wavered.

Mary scrambled to a sitting position. “What’s wrong?”

“Your house . . . uhm. I was putting Leo back down after his feeding and caught light outside. A couple of lights were on at your place. I thought it was strange. I called over . . . you didn’t answer.”

“I’m not there.”

“Right, right. So I told Walt to check it out. Make sure the plumbers didn’t come by and leave stuff on, doors open . . . ya know.”

“Cut to the reason you’re calling, Dakota.”

Glen had opened his eyes, concern on his face.

“Someone broke in, Mary.”

Mary physically shook as a chill burned her bones. “Broke in?”

“The police are over there now with Walt.”

Mary envisioned her living room as she left it. Tarp still separated her front door from the living space, but everything was in its place.

Glen placed a hand on her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Mary found Glen’s eyes. “Someone broke into my house.”

“What?”

Dakota continued to talk. “Whoever broke in trashed things. Hard to tell if stuff is missing.”

“Damn.”

“Double damn,” Dakota replied. “How soon can you get back? The police need to know what’s missing.”

Mary lowered the phone. “I need to go home.”

Glen smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead before slipping off the bed and reaching for the hotel phone.

Who would break into her place? Why? She didn’t have expensive stuff. Her life wasn’t bargain basement, but break-in worthy? Mary didn’t think so.

“I’ll text you when I’m on the plane.”

“Okay. Love you, Mary.”

“Love you too.”

Mary was dressed, packed, and en route to the airport within an hour. Glen drove through the city in his own thoughts.

“I’m sorry our weekend is cut short,” Mary said when she saw the airport come in focus.

Glen reached over, grabbed her hand, and kissed her fingers. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Somewhere over the Midwest Mary broke her silence. “You didn’t have to fly home with me.”

He lowered his chin and met her stare. “If I’d been in LA, received the call you did this morning . . . would you have come back with me?”

Of course.

“That’s what I thought.” Glen wove his fingers with hers throughout the remainder of the flight.

The ride from the airport to her condo took less than thirty minutes on a Sunday without traffic.