Read Online The Debra Dilemma (The Lone Stars Book 4) by Katie Graykowski - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katie Graykowski
Tags: General Fiction
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who didn’t mean harm didn’t pound on doors at one in the morning.
He slipped the picture back into his wallet and tossed the thing on the island. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t bring himself to go to his house. It was hokey and stupid and melodramatic, and the amazing thing was that he knew this, but he still wanted to stay as close to her as possible. He looked around at the vast living room of nothingness. Then he stopped, picked up his wallet, pulled out his black American Express Centurion card, flipped it over and looked for the customer service number. It was finally time to test the 24/7 concierge service that was touted as being able to get anything to anyone in less than twenty-four hours. He could only hope that a bed and some furniture wouldn’t take that long. Sleeping on the floor wasn’t his favorite, but it beat leaving. He pulled out his smart phone and dialed the number.
Ten minutes later, a king-sized mattress and box springs were in route and should arrive in less than an hour. His personal concierge, Amil, sounded disappointed that he hadn’t wanted something a little more challenging. She’d offered him gelato from Italy or Bordeaux from a family-owned winery that didn’t sell commercially, but all he’d wanted was a mattress and box springs. Perhaps he’d have made her happy if he’d ordered a mattress woven from the hair of albino virgins, but sadly, he realized his request of a Sleep Number bed was run-of-the-mill at best.
So maybe tomorrow he’d call back and order a pint of yak spit or a couple of ouches of caviar harvested from one-eyed Beluga whales, or some holy water blessed by Jesus. He turned slowly around the empty penthouse and suddenly realized how pathetic that he was—so lonely that he was even seriously considering calling back tomorrow.
When his bed arrived, he would set it up in the northeast corner of the condo. He’d already pulled up the condo floor plans and knew right were Debra’s bedroom was. He wanted his bed to be in the same place, and based on the layout of the room, her bed would only fit in one place. He walked back to the northeast corner of the condo. Hmm, unfortunately, it was the master bathroom. Well, it might be unconventional to have his bed in the master bath, but based on the size of the room it would fit. It’s not like the bed police would pop out of the woodwork and ticket him for illegal bed placement.
He knew it wasn’t logical or practical, and that his actions defied explanation, but he needed to be close to Debra tonight, so he would be sleeping in the bathroom. Still, there was a bright side. He didn’t have far to walk if he woke up and needed to pee.
Right now that was as close to her as he was able to get, but hopefully, she’d let him in her life and her bed once again.
----
Chapter 7
----
Debra walked down the long outside corridor covered in multi-colored twinkle lights that led to the front door of Chez Zee. She was meeting Summer at noon and here it was one minute till, so she’d be right on time. She was always right on time. Summer had texted that she was going to be ten or so minutes late.
She pulled open the glass and chrome door, walked up to the hostess stand and smiled. “A table for two.”
She smoothed down her pink cotton dress and unbuttoned her denim jacket. The jacket really wasn’t necessary, as the Texas December sun drove the temperature up to seventy degrees, but she’d worried that the dress’s thin spaghetti straps revealed too much skin so she’d tossed on the jacket. Never in her life had she spent so much time worrying over a lunch date. Well aware that she was walking a fine line between her old life and her new one, she’d practically pulled everything out of her closet and tried it on. This was stupid; she was just meeting a friend for lunch. Sweat broke out on her upper lip.
What were they supposed to talk about? Comparing notes on Summer’s now husband was a bad idea.
He slipped the picture back into his wallet and tossed the thing on the island. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t bring himself to go to his house. It was hokey and stupid and melodramatic, and the amazing thing was that he knew this, but he still wanted to stay as close to her as possible. He looked around at the vast living room of nothingness. Then he stopped, picked up his wallet, pulled out his black American Express Centurion card, flipped it over and looked for the customer service number. It was finally time to test the 24/7 concierge service that was touted as being able to get anything to anyone in less than twenty-four hours. He could only hope that a bed and some furniture wouldn’t take that long. Sleeping on the floor wasn’t his favorite, but it beat leaving. He pulled out his smart phone and dialed the number.
Ten minutes later, a king-sized mattress and box springs were in route and should arrive in less than an hour. His personal concierge, Amil, sounded disappointed that he hadn’t wanted something a little more challenging. She’d offered him gelato from Italy or Bordeaux from a family-owned winery that didn’t sell commercially, but all he’d wanted was a mattress and box springs. Perhaps he’d have made her happy if he’d ordered a mattress woven from the hair of albino virgins, but sadly, he realized his request of a Sleep Number bed was run-of-the-mill at best.
So maybe tomorrow he’d call back and order a pint of yak spit or a couple of ouches of caviar harvested from one-eyed Beluga whales, or some holy water blessed by Jesus. He turned slowly around the empty penthouse and suddenly realized how pathetic that he was—so lonely that he was even seriously considering calling back tomorrow.
When his bed arrived, he would set it up in the northeast corner of the condo. He’d already pulled up the condo floor plans and knew right were Debra’s bedroom was. He wanted his bed to be in the same place, and based on the layout of the room, her bed would only fit in one place. He walked back to the northeast corner of the condo. Hmm, unfortunately, it was the master bathroom. Well, it might be unconventional to have his bed in the master bath, but based on the size of the room it would fit. It’s not like the bed police would pop out of the woodwork and ticket him for illegal bed placement.
He knew it wasn’t logical or practical, and that his actions defied explanation, but he needed to be close to Debra tonight, so he would be sleeping in the bathroom. Still, there was a bright side. He didn’t have far to walk if he woke up and needed to pee.
Right now that was as close to her as he was able to get, but hopefully, she’d let him in her life and her bed once again.
----
Chapter 7
----
Debra walked down the long outside corridor covered in multi-colored twinkle lights that led to the front door of Chez Zee. She was meeting Summer at noon and here it was one minute till, so she’d be right on time. She was always right on time. Summer had texted that she was going to be ten or so minutes late.
She pulled open the glass and chrome door, walked up to the hostess stand and smiled. “A table for two.”
She smoothed down her pink cotton dress and unbuttoned her denim jacket. The jacket really wasn’t necessary, as the Texas December sun drove the temperature up to seventy degrees, but she’d worried that the dress’s thin spaghetti straps revealed too much skin so she’d tossed on the jacket. Never in her life had she spent so much time worrying over a lunch date. Well aware that she was walking a fine line between her old life and her new one, she’d practically pulled everything out of her closet and tried it on. This was stupid; she was just meeting a friend for lunch. Sweat broke out on her upper lip.
What were they supposed to talk about? Comparing notes on Summer’s now husband was a bad idea.
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