Test Drive (The Bachelor #1) (4 page)

"Interesting," she said, smiling and nodding her head.

I knew I had to turn on the charm so I flashed my best
interesting
smile and said, "Wait. What do you mean interesting? Interesting like cool or interesting like I am a weirdo?" We both laughed, and she took a sip of her drink.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but interesting like I can't believe you didn't mention one outrageous thing in there. Are you hiding some bad boy lifestyle, or are you really a business man that likes to party on occasion?"

"I'm stunned!" I laughed. "If you're asking if I like jumping off buildings or something I must warn you, I'm afraid of heights and I am not a fan of most things life threatening, but I am willing to go for a thrill ride every now and then."

"Fair enough," she said. We discussed her background in depth. She had graduated from U.N.C. here in North Carolina with a degree in sports medicine and education. Now she was an instructor for an extreme sports company in Raleigh that does everything from rock climbing to hot yoga. My mind roamed thinking of whatever "hot yoga" consisted of. I was impressed, a little thrown, but very impressed.

"So where do we go from here, Drew? I have to get going, but I'd like to see you again." Her piercing green eyes weren't riddled with shyness or fear, instead she looked like a girl who knew what she wanted, and that confidence was very appealing. So I explained my newly adopted three-date rule.

"Okay then. So the next date is my choice. You’re sure you aren't scared of what I might pick?"

"Actually I am a bit scared, but I want to find someone that can keep me interested and someone I am compatible with so I am willing to try new things . . . except for the heights. No sky diving if you can resist." She giggled and said she'd try. I don't know if I believed her, but we would cross that bridge when we got there. I tossed our mess in the trash and walked her to her car. Well, I thought it would be a car, but then again I should have known. On this beautiful summer day, Jenna had driven her motorcycle to work. According to the black decals on the blinding white painted motorcycle it was a Yamaha R1. Her helmet was also white with a swirly black design and her matching leather jacket completed the look. Freaking hot!

I watched her mount the crotch rocket, and my mind roamed to the dark side thinking about how those long legs would feel mounted around me. When the motor roared to life, I had to adjust my pants. She looked back at me one more time; I could still see her glowing green eyes through the tinted helmet. I waved and she sped off around the corner.

Damn, that girl was fine.

I was getting warmer. The library chick might have failed, but this girl was a prize.

When I finally made it back to the office I was a few minutes late, but I had worked constantly through the morning so I hoped it wouldn't matter.

I went back to work reading through the files coming to the quick conclusion that I needed some sort of estimate. I pulled up one of our vendor sites and looked up the dreaded feminine product machine. Turns out it wasn't that expensive. It was more for the refills than the machine, but if we needed to we could refill them ourselves and skip the maintenance fee. I wonder who would be in charge of that task.

I got the quotes together and considered that issue dealt with until the next board meeting convened in two weeks. Moving on to another office request, I totally agreed that the snack machine situation was monumental. The request was made for new snack vendors to be brought in. The snack machines were ancient, and I had refused to buy anything from them because the last bag of M&Ms I’d purchased were not only out of date, but they had turned completely white in color.
Gross.
I contacted a local vendor, and he said he would come down with some options tomorrow at ten a.m. I jotted it down on my calendar and moved on.

The rest of the day went like that. A few of the evaluations were funny. Jake, one of the pilots, had put that he would like a box of Swiss roll cakes available for every flight and new tassels for their uniforms.

I actually felt important doing this project, in fact, for the first time I felt like I had a sense of responsibility. I enjoyed fixing problems and finding ways to make our company a better place to work. I couldn't say I cared a lot about the flying part, but the employees were an important part of the company.
Maybe I could be their supervisor?
I would definitely bring it up to my father at the next board meeting. I mean we did have an employee relations manager, but he focused more on the insurance benefits and payroll. I put the thoughts aside and grabbed my things to leave. Then it hit me! I hadn't checked my inbox since the message from Jenna, almost eight hours ago. I could no longer wait till I arrived home. I clicked the link and watched it load. Three new messages appeared. The first was from Claire, she was the chef of a local hotel restaurant. I had been to a few catering events there, and the food was phenomenal.

"Hi Drew. Sorry for the delayed response, the hotel I work for has been booked solid for a few weeks, I would love to hear back from you and maybe schedule a time to meet for drinks or something. Anyway, talk to you soon." Her message was very pleasant, and I instantly responded with a no problem, blah blah blah, I'd love to meet her. I meant the words just the repeating them part was getting a little weird.

The second message was from Jenna, we had never exchanged numbers, and she was asking for mine. She said lunch was great, and she would be in touch about that second date. I messaged her back with my number and blah blah blah.

The last message was from Victoria. She was a single mom, and I had been nervous about being around her child. She wrote, "Drew, what a handsome name. I am sorry I took so long to respond. Life is busy when school is out. Maybe you could tell me a little bit about yourself? I am a single mom to a six year old. I work part time for the school system, and I also do side work during the tax season. Gotta make ends meet, right? I love reading and going to the movies and anything outdoors. I look forward to hearing from you! -Victoria"

The message was sweet, and I felt like I could picture who she was as a person. I wanted to meet her for sure. I messaged her back and once again shut my computer down.

THE NEXT EVENING
I headed out of the house to meet Matt. He was hanging at one of our favorite pubs, Sir Anthony’s, watching reruns of UFC fights.

"Happy hump day, man," he said, standing to greet me. He smelled of hops and pretzel salt, and I could tell by the way he hugged me that he was well on his way to being toasted.

"All right, hero. Have a seat before you get knocked out early." I shrugged him off, and we sat down at the tall pub tables. Wendy, our favorite blonde waitress, came over with a tall glass of Samuel Adams. "Just the lady I was looking for." I smiled.

"Well, I know what my fellas like." She winked and twisted her hips walking away. I had a brief thing with her for a while, but we both decided that it couldn’t go anywhere, especially since her boyfriend—I think his name was Jerk Off—tried to fight me outside the pub.
Yikes!
I smiled remembering the look on her face when she said "Friends?" Who could resist a hot blonde winking as she ended our umm,
friendship
.

"So where have you been all week? I haven’t seen you once since last week," Matt slurred as he chugged the last swig or his foamy beer.

"At work, man. My dad came down on me about being late all the time. But I have to say that since I started getting into it, I kind of like the management side."

"Has he gotten over his dream of you flying yet? Lord knows he hasn’t been the same. I saw him pass by the other day in one of those tinted black rides. He didn’t even glance my way. He used to be like a dad to me growing up."

"Yeah, me too. Old man’s gotta relax . . .” I jammed a pretzel rod into the honey mustard dip in the basket and chewed on the end. I let the salty goodness sink in putting some space in between the negative comment and the good news I had come to share. "So check this out." I whipped out my phone, and Matt leaned towards me. Pulling up my profile on the dating site, I scrolled through my profile showing him the pictures I’d chosen.

"Uh why are we looking at pictures of you?" he yelled far too loud as he grabbed for my phone. "I want to see some hotties, man."

"Patience!" I laughed pushing him away. "Okay. Check her out." I showed him the picture of Jenna knowing that he would be insanely jealous of my hot find.

"Dudeeee! I hate you so much right now. Leave it to you to find a babe on a dating site." Pouting, he jammed another pretzel rod in his mouth; the crumbs taking up residence in his bushy goatee. "But you got to watch out for the
catfish.
"

"Catfish?" I exclaimed. "What the hell is a catfish?"

"You know. The people who put up fake pictures and when you meet them in person you’re like
‘WTF, you’re a cow.’
" We both nervously laughed while I considered the risk I was taking with each date.

Shaking off the warning I said, "Well, this girl is no catfish. She drives a motorcycle, and she is an instructor for "hot yoga" among other things. She is smoking hot."

By the time we headed home, Matt could no longer walk. I dropped him off in front of his townhouse and waited until he stumbled inside. I got home just in time to catch Claire online. We messaged back and forth about our likes and dislikes. She was twenty-six and had graduated from culinary school. Food was her life apparently, and she was looking forward to expanding her social calendar. We decided to have dinner on Friday night, and I fell asleep smiling about Jenna and the other girls I was meeting.
Oooh, the possibilities.

As promised, I attended the business lunch I had set up for my father with Mr. Bingham at the country club. The sun beating down on the all slate patio was nearly unbearable, but as I watched my father and the old man discussing trips they had taken and some of the war memorabilia that my father had managed to collect, I realized that so much of this business was dependent on the personal relationships he managed to maintain. Like a light bulb I continued to process the relationships in my personal life that I had maintained; next to none. There was my dad and that was about as solid as a piece of paper. My mother was probably my only true supporter in a lifetime full of so-called friends. Matt and a few other guys were good friends, but I needed someone lifelong that could have my back in times of need. Amazingly, I began to add items to my checklist of the type of girl that I wanted. No longer were looks and status as important as support and comfort.
I think I just became an adult.
I snickered to myself.

"Drew, I have a son about your age." He nudged my father’s arm as he spoke, continuing on to say, "I wish I could get him out of bed before noon to attend a boring business meeting with us old timers." My father gave an uncomfortable laugh while rolling his eyes in the opposite direction. "Your father is lucky to have you, son."

The raspy cough my father barked out could be heard from the other side of the golf course. My blood boiled, just a bit, at the thought of him denouncing me in front of this potential client. "Well," I began to recover as this client had just paid me a compliment. "It’s a tough world out there, and you have to stay current to stay in the game. I bet you and your son would thoroughly enjoy the new jet my father has designed. I haven’t been able to see it firsthand, but the plans are amazing. It has every comfort that a man like yourself would need on that trip to Japan you are taking next month."

My father’s bushy brows creased together as I spoke and then relaxed into a surprised awe as Mr. Bingham replied, "Right you are, son. I believe that I will take you up on that offer if the plane will be done in time."

"Wonderful." I stood next to the table and readied myself to leave. "Mr. Bingham, it was a pleasure meeting with you, and I hope that we will be together for years to come." We shook hands, and he grasped mine heartily. My lips dropped into a thin line as I made my exit. "Father." I only said the one word as I pushed through the patio gate leaving the outdoor eatery. He didn’t bother to respond.

Embarrassing.
That was the word I was looking for the full forty-five minute drive back to the office. What was the point of me attending the meetings if he constantly felt the need to express his utter disappointment in me? Why not just fire me and get it over with? I paced my office for a few moments, cursing as needed to deal with my anger.

Knock! Knock! Knock!
The quick knock drew me out of my trance and before I could swallow my irritation I barked, "What?" I instantly felt remorseful for screaming at the unknown knocker, unless of course it was my father, in that case, he could just keep walking.

It wasn’t my father. I should’ve known he wouldn’t feel bad about his rudeness. Instead his secretary Beth peeked around my door. Her posture showing her concern at the tone I had just used. "It went that well, huh?" Usually she attended the meetings with my father and today when I had gone along, she did seem a bit . . . nervous. I assumed it was her lack of confidence in me which in all honesty may still be the case.