Not Quite Mine (Not Quite #2)(40)
Author: Catherine Bybee

“Very good. Have a nice day, Miss Morrison.”

“You, too, Naomi. Nice meeting you, Tammy.”

The women said good-bye and Katie left the hotel with a smile on her face. Between the amazing sex and a good night’s sleep, she couldn’t wait to spend the day playing with Savannah. She missed her daughter.

Chapter Sixteen

He sent flowers. Two dozen long-stem pink roses. Roses that would match the frilly bra and panties Katie had worn last night.

Flowers had been off limits before…when they’d met in secret.

Not this time.

Dean wasn’t going to hide…this time.

He smiled after getting off the phone with the florist. Dean escaped into the mess of his day but didn’t mind any of it. The temporary power pole had gone down and sparked a small fire. Luckily, he had a security guard on site at night who had managed to take down the flames with a fire extinguisher. The power company and the fire department then needed to repair and sign off on the broken pole, which took the whole morning.

One full pallet of roofing material escaped its binding and blew all over the site. Dirt covered every surface. Even three of the Porta-potties had tipped over. Now that was a mess. Two windows, one standard and one bay, broke when some kind of debris flew through them.

He called in a couple of guys and lent a hand securing the material that might be a problem again overnight. The forecast of Santa Ana winds and red flag warnings wasn’t going to be lifted until early Monday morning. Outside of the immediate issues, Dean saw no need to fix everything until after the wind stopped. He called the portable john guys and asked them to come by and upright the toilets.

Feeling gritty from working in the dust-coated wind all day, Dean made his way home while singing along with the radio. Damn he felt good.

At home he checked his messages and heard only the men from the job site when they’d attempted to get a hold of him that morning. Nothing from Katie.

Did she like the flowers?

Of course she did. She might not admit it, but she’d enjoy them anyway.

Don’t most women call and thank a man for flowers after they arrive?

Then again, she wanted time to think. Thinking didn’t include talking to him about flowers sent just hours after he left.

Dean took a long, hot shower and scrubbed the dirt from his hair. Hair that needed some quality time with a pair of scissors. After his shower, he made himself a simple sandwich and chased it with a beer.

It was nearly seven.

He needed to see her. He wouldn’t stay long. Just long enough to know that she wasn’t sitting in a pile of regret after last night.

He shoved into his cowboy boots and found a hat. On the weekends, he tried to capture his Texan side, a side Katie liked and he would exploit at every turn.

The ride to The Morrison was short despite the wind blowing sand across the roads like blizzards blow snow.

Determined strides took him through the doors and to the elevators. He didn’t have a key to the penthouse level so he turned toward the stairs. Then he stopped.

No. He’d used the back way up in the past. Thinking of that left a bad taste in his mouth.

Behind the reception desk stood a girl no older than twenty-two. She smiled easily and asked to help him.

Dean looked at her name tag and used it. “Hi, Tammy. Would you be kind enough to let Miss Morrison know that I’m on my way up?”

Tammy’s eyes grew wide. “Miss Morrison…right…” She flipped through some papers on the desk. “Ah, are you Patrick Nelson?”

Dean felt his happy disposition slip. Who the hell is he? “No.”

Tammy’s smile started to fade.

“Ben Sanderson?”

The old guy? What the hell? “No!”

“Oh, um, Dean Prescott?”

Finally, his name made the short list. “Bingo.”

Tammy grinned, entirely pleased she’d gotten the name right. “Oh, good.”

Dean turned toward the elevators with his fists gripped at his sides. What in the depths of hell was Katie doing?

“Mr. Prescott,” Tammy called behind him.

He turned and barked at the girl. “What?”

“Um, Miss Morrison isn’t here. She asked if you or any of the others called, to have you call her cell phone.”

He glared at the elevators. Not home? That explains the lack of phone call about the flowers. Hard to say thank you if you haven’t seen them yet.

“Did she say when she’d be back?”

“Tomorrow…I think. Yeah, tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” So where the hell was she sleeping tonight? And with whom?

“Savannah’s sleeping and you’ve had a glass of wine. I’ll go.” Katie moved about the apartment and found her purse. “I’ll swing by the grocery store and pick up more formula before getting our dinner. Do we need anything else?”

Monica reclined on the couch as Katie shuffled around the room. It was nice having someone there to run simple errands. It didn’t suck that Katie was used to eating out so she ordered takeout half the week. It’s a little thing I can do for you letting Savannah and I stay here. Katie had insisted and Monica wasn’t about to refuse. “Might as well get diapers. And get a bigger size. Savannah’s growing out of those tiny ones.”

Katie paused for a moment and a smile slid over her lips. “She’s getting big.”

Monica made a swishing motion with her hands. “Go. Before she wakes up.”

“Right.” Katie shuffled out of the apartment while Monica continued to drink her wine. Even though Jessie and Katelyn were actually sisters-in-law, Monica found the joy in a sister by marriage. There was a huge bonus that they both held very little regard for their mothers—one for having left and the other for staying, yet not really being there for Monica and Jessie. Monica could see how hard Katie was trying to make things right for Savannah, and much of that stemmed from a lack of a mother in Katie’s life.

Monica turned the channel to the opening credits for the popular reality show that spun new musical talent. Twenty minutes into the show, a loud knock jarred her from the TV.

She surged off the couch. “Keep it down,” she called out. The thought of putting a note on the door about a baby sleeping crossed her mind.

The knock came again, this time louder.

“I’m coming.” She grabbed the door and swung it open. “What’s the big…Dean?”

Dean’s gaze soared over her, his brows pitched together with barely contained fury. His eyes sparked and not in a good way.