Test Drive (The Bachelor #1) (2 page)

BOOK: Test Drive (The Bachelor #1)
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I RAN TO MY COMPUTER
the next day when I rolled out of bed around noon. I immediately logged in and checked my inbox. Nothing . . . Zero . . . Nada . . . I tried to calm my thoughts as I immediately started to regret my choice. Maybe they just hadn’t checked their profiles. All the women had jobs! I decided to give it a day or two before I really freaked out. I hopped in the shower and got dressed for work, briefly stopping in front of the mirror as I admired my wardrobe. I could pull off the suit look for sure, but could I make a cowboy hat look natural? I was pretty sure cowboys didn’t have their hair slicked back with gel.

Right then I knew that I would have to expand my personal appearance to make whoever I went out with comfortable, especially since I needed to appear average.

The drive to work was distracted, to say the least. Upon my arrival I couldn’t have explained what the weather was like or the traffic flow. These women and the whole idea of opening up my future were consuming my everyday life. I tossed the keys to the valet and ascended the escalator two steps at a time. I bounded past the receptionist and immediately sat down at my computer to—dun dun dun—check my inbox. "Nothing." I pouted.

"Mr. Sloane, your father would like to see you." Beth, my father’s secretary, had popped into my office without me noticing.

"Does he know I just came in?" I said with dread.

"Yes, sir. He said he wanted to meet with you as soon as you arrived."

"Well, please tell him I will be right there." I slid back from my desk and gave one last click to refresh the page. Nothing. I was becoming some sort of masochist forcing myself to stare at the empty screen.

I jetted down the long, narrow hall, decorated with old parts of planes and alternate flying vessels. My father was a collector of sorts, especially of fighter jet parts from the different wars. Much to his displeasure, I had no interest in flying planes. In fact, I was not a big fan of flying period. I much preferred long drives and road trips with stops along the way. I entered his office and sat in one of the plush leather chairs seated in front of his gray, steel desk.

"Father, you wanted to see me." My dad was staring intently at his computer screen, most likely studying weather patterns for the upcoming flights.

"Yes, son, I am glad you could join us before the day ended. Why must you be late when you know the other employees have a hard enough time doing their job and yours?" His gruff voice made me want to roll my eyes, but instead I gulped down my response.

"Well, father, I was up late last night working on a project, but I will try my best to be on time."

My father’s eyes rose, lifting his sagging brows. "I take it that was not a work project, am I right?" I shrugged my shoulders and sucked in my cheeks. "Try, huh? Let’s put it this way. You are here on time from now going forward
or
I will dock your pay a hundred dollars for each hour that you miss."

"I don’t even make a hundred dollars per hour. That is preposterous!" I knew that whatever I said next made no difference. The old man was stubborn, and this company meant everything to him. Even more than his only child.

"Well then, I guess it is in your best interest to be on time." He went back to his computer. He sucked in his breath to speak, and I thought surely he would say something more sensible, but instead he boomed, "Beth! Get me Richard at the weather station on the phone. I need him to look over these reports for me."

I took that as my cue to leave. I was still fuming when I got back to my desk. I suppressed the urge to throw something at the all glass room. I knew he was right, but was it that big of a deal? It’s not like he had given me any real responsibility. I was the supposed to be the head of marketing, but he insisted that he handle all the major clients personally. Until the old man was ready to hand over the reins, my job here was limited.

I straightened in my chair and flicked on the computer. My work email was virtually empty, and my desk sat barren of any work.
Great! So now I have to be here early to do nothing all day.
I let my mind wander to the beautiful ladies and their wildly different profiles. Their paths led in all different directions, and I wasn't sure which direction I wanted to head in first. Against what I knew was my better judgment, I clicked onto my profile again. There were over fifty views for my profile, but no messages. I read over my answers again, editing along the way. My answers were a bit short in comparison to the ladies’ profiles.

"You've got mail!" my computer sounded off. A
one
popped up next to my message button. I hurriedly clicked on it in hopes of meeting my new lady.

"Welcome to findtheone.com, we have seven new listings for you!"

"Dammit!" I breathed out. I still had not gotten a message back from the women I emailed. I scrolled through the next seven ladies. I almost messaged them all, but there was only one I found remotely attractive. Her name was Caroline, and she was an attorney. She only had one picture which showed off her short brown bob style haircut and a set of very long legs. "I could use a good attorney in my life!" I snickered.

Beth returned just in time to see the cat-like grin on my face. "Well I can see that you have nothing but time on your hands. Your father asked me to drop these off to you. It's a list of potential clients, and he wants you to look them over and make the initial contact to set up business meetings with your father." She laid the thick files on my desk and exited in under twenty seconds.

It sounded like a job for the secretary. I knew my father didn't trust me enough to handle anything important on my own, and I wasn't begging for extra work by any means, but this just seemed like busy work. I finished typing a quick message to Caroline and tackled the list of names.

"Uh yes, this is Wyatt Sloane with Sloane Aeronautics, and I was hoping to reach Mr. Bingham." I tapped my pencil on my desk while the receptionist put me on hold. I had my father’s calendar pulled up along with the idiot proof tags where he wanted the meetings to be held.

"Mr. Bingham, this is Wyatt Sloane with Sloane Aeronautics. My father would like to know if you would be interested in meeting him one day this week to discuss flight options for your company." I waited and listened as the old man hummed his way through his calendar. I scheduled the meeting for lunchtime on Thursday at the Maribel Country Club. When we hung up, I repeated the call to different executives, and when I was finished—a whole fifteen minutes later—I turned my attention back to my inbox.

To my surprise there was a response. I was even more surprised when I saw that it was from Sicily. I remembered her as the fragile broken girl in the picture, and her response left me questioning what she might be like away from the computer.

 

"Hi Drew! I got your message, and I wanted to maybe chat sometime. I don’t usually like going out with people I haven’t spent some time getting to know. I read through your profile and saw that we have quite a bit in common. Can I ask you why you picked me to respond to? Anyway, I hope to hear back from you, if you are still interested.

-Sicily"

 

I immediately wanted to respond, but would it make me look desperate? Did I even have an answer to her questions? I wasn’t used to a woman who lacked so much confidence in themselves, and I had to admit I already felt pressured to be some savior that could fix probably years of decay. I took a chance though. Maybe being the support for someone was the change I needed?

 

"Sicily, I am very glad that you wrote me back. I would love to chat with you when you are available. I picked you because of your picture actually. You have that Mona Lisa stare, and I couldn’t look away. I am interested in meeting with you. You can reach me at 828–555–4213 if you want to talk.

-Drew"

 

I hit the send button and turned my chair around to face the window. The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, and the other staff started to leave. I packed up my stuff and headed back down the long hallway to my father’s office.

"Sir? Do you have a minute?"

He nodded and motioned for me to come in but did not look away from his computer. "I finished setting up the meetings for you."

"Good. Thank you." His gruff voice showed his distraction. "Is there something else?" His ice cold blue eyes darted over to me.

"I wondered if you would allow me to sit in on the meetings with you. Maybe then I could get a feel for what needs to happen."

"You would be interested in that?" He lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yes, father. I have noticed that my duties here are more like busy work, and I would prefer to take on a more important role if I need to be here every day."

"Well yeah, son, you can add the meetings to your calendar, and I
expect
you to be there." He turned his attention back to the computer, and I showed myself out.

I couldn’t remember my dad ever being this disconnected when I was a child. Of course his company had not exploded into what it is now until I was a teenager, and I spent most of my time away for college. I knew that I had disappointed him when my path didn’t lead directly to the pilot industry, but to be honest, heights scared the hell out of me. My dad couldn’t understand that I much preferred business and marketing to weather patterns and flight schedules. Not that he would ever let me handle that stuff anyway. My mother understood, at least. She had begged my father to retire and travel the world with her, but he couldn’t let it go.

I had just sat down in the driver’s seat of my old, but fully restored, Nova when the phone rang. I checked the number, but it came up blocked. Normally that call would go to voicemail, but since it could be Sicily I answered.

"Hi, this is Drew!" I tried to sound perky, but it came out as a yell over the roaring engine.

"Hello, this is Sicily. Umm, you gave me your number so I thought I would call, but if you are busy, just forget it." I could barely understand her whispered words so I cut the engine off and apologized.

"I’m sorry, my car is loud, and the echo in the parking garage would about deafen you. You said this is Sicily, right? I’m glad you called." She was quiet for a moment like she was immediately regretting making this phone call. "Sicily, are you still there?"

"Yes, I’m here. What kind of car do you have?" She sounded as unsure as her picture looked, and I did my best to make her feel comfortable.

I told her about my car and bits about the company I worked for, making sure to leave out the name. For over an hour, I sat in the garage talking with her about our likes and dislikes. She told me that she was a librarian, which was different than anyone I had ever dated. She was obviously into books and poetry. I couldn’t say I shared that interest, but I kept reminding myself that I wanted different.

"Have you met a lot of people on this site? I am new to this, and I am not really sure how this works." I was being totally honest when I said that.

"Umm sort of. I mean I have messaged with guys, but I haven’t made it to the date part. Either they lose interest or I find them creepy, but I read that you should know how you feel about someone in three dates."

"Oh really?" I laughed. "I am intrigued, please explain what you mean."

"Yes, I read once that you should meet first in public for dinner or coffee or something, and then the second the girl should pick the date, and the third the man should choose the date. Both should pick based on what kinds of things they enjoy, and by the end of the third date you should know where you stand." Her voice sounded like she read the words straight out of a fairytale.

"I like that! Actually that is brilliant." And I just found my new motto. Who couldn’t survive three dates?

I could hear the smile in her voice when she said, "Really?"

"Yes, ma’am." I could hear a giggle escape from her mouth. "So how about it then? Wanna have date one?"

"Um sure, when?" she said. She sounded so shy and quiet. I wanted to see that smile in person.

"How about tonight?" I took a few breaths, and I could hear her withdraw from the phone. "Just for dinner. I give you my word that I am not a stalker, crazy person, or weirdo. Scout’s honor!"

"Were you a boy scout?" she said.

"Well no. But I do stand behind my word. How about this? You pick the place and time. I will get there early, and you can check me out. If you don’t like what you see, you can leave, and I will understand."

"All right, I guess. Um, eight thirty at Nina’s Pizza on Main Street?" Her voice still didn’t sound certain, but I guess it could be risky meeting a stranger for the first time.

"I have never been there before. That’s perfect, I will be there. Talk to you soon." We said our goodbyes, and I fired up the engine. According to my navigation system the restaurant was almost an hour away, and I still had to get home to change.

 

 

 

 

I ENTERED THE RESTAURANT
and scanned the crowded room for her face. I was early as promised, but the front entryway was swarming with people. I pushed through and waited at the front desk for someone to lead me to a table. I felt overdressed in my khaki pants and Italian Cashmere sweater. I hadn’t realized that the restaurant might not be four stars, but the food smelled amazing. I could practically taste the oozing cheese and the lightly roasted toppings from halfway across the room.

BOOK: Test Drive (The Bachelor #1)
11.13Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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