Not Quite Perfect
Page 13

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.”
Damn, Monica had nailed Mary in a couple of sentences.
“I can see what Mary would get out of our dating . . . what do you think I’ll gain?”
That snarky smile appeared in spades. “So much more.”
What the hell did that mean?
He was about to ask when a car pulled into the turnaround and out stepped his younger brother.
Sister-in-law bonding time was over.
Chapter Six
He’d left.
Mary had known he would. He lived on the East Coast for crying out loud . . . but he’d left without so much as a smile. Well, there was a cordial Thanks for putting me up comment, and a group of See you laters to those sharing in the joy of baby Leo, but nothing more than a nod in her direction.
Then he left.
She hated the disappointment inside her. Mary had always been one to guard herself against caring too deeply about a man. As Dakota was fond of saying, it was a wonder she’d ever slept with anyone. As she’d gotten older, she’d avoiding putting herself out there because staying emotionally detached was getting tougher to do.
Here she was, an hour after Glen had left the hospital, still picturing him walking away. And she hadn’t even dated the man.
They’d met at a Florida writer’s conference Mary had attended with Dakota. Glen was there with his brother Trent for an emergency medical response convention taking place in the same hotel. And since Fairchild Charters was pioneering personal aircraft to come to the aid of people affected by natural disasters, as CFO of Fairchild Charters, he needed to be present.
They’d had some serious eye chemistry from word one. But in less than twenty-four hours Glen had flown back to Connecticut and she was on her way home to California. They’d exchanged phone numbers . . . but her phone never rang.
Because of Dakota’s connection to the Fairchilds through Walt and Monica’s friendship, Mary had found herself face-to-face with Glen a half a dozen times over the last year. Each one her heart kicked a little harder, each time she was reminded that he wasn’t interested enough to initiate a real date, each encounter left her a little heartbroken.
She understood. He was as commitment-phobic as any wealthy bachelor should be. Mary remembered saying nearly those exact words to him within hours of meeting the man. Probably not one of her best decisions. Analyzing people and recognizing what motivated them to do the things they did—or in this case, not do the things they should—was her job. Keeping her analysis to herself was close to impossible.
Dakota had warned her for years to keep her mouth shut unless she was kissing someone.
Mary didn’t listen.
Her stomach started to rumble when the smell of food blew in from the hall. She’d been at the hospital for two solid days and needed a little solitude. Having been on her own most of her life, she could only take a large family for so long before she needed to be alone. It was something she and Dakota had in common.
Walt’s parents were talking about leaving and checking into a hotel so Walt could have some privacy at home, but Dakota’s parents had been at the hospital a few hours and showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.
“I have a block of rooms waiting at The Morrison,” Monica announced.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” Dr. Eddy said. “Then we can all ride in together tomorrow.”
“How about giving me a call in the morning before rushing over. The orthopedic said he’d be by first thing in the morning to cast Dakota’s leg. I’m going to push to have her discharged,” Walt said.
“Why the hurry?” Elaine asked.
“She’ll heal faster at home.”
“Hospitals are full of germs,” Monica added.
Mary listened to the exchange at a distance. “I have clients in the morning,” she said as she stood, grabbing her purse. “If you need anything, I’m a phone call away.”
Dakota offered a tired smile.
“Does anyone need a ride?” Mary asked in slight encouragement for the others in the room to leave.
“We’re okay,” Walt’s parents chimed in together.
“All right then. Everyone has my number.” She leaned over and kissed Dakota’s cheek. “I’ll see you at home.”