My Bachelor (5 page)

My phone buzzed with a text. I let my eyes skim Rafe’s bio section as I reached for it. A year ago, Rafe had sold the medical database program he’d created in a nine figure deal to the healthcare industry.

I glanced at my phone. It was a text from Jackson.

“Can’t believe you’re missing this. And Tricia just texted me that the internet blew up almost the second the bachelor was introduced. He’s a mega hit already, and he hasn’t gone on one date.”

“I’ll be there soon. Just eating a granola bar,” I typed back.

I returned my attention to the papers in front of me. I didn’t know the details of his business or the program he’d sold, but it seemed my earlier assumptions about him had been wrong. He’d only recently come into a lot of money. He wasn’t one of those spoiled, silver-spoon, born into money types. He’d earned his fortune. And with his brains, no less.” My phone buzzed with another text.

“El, this is no fun without you. Get over here.”

I returned the envelope to my locker and walked out to the golf cart. I should have been curious and excited to watch the meet and greet. After all, I was the bachelor’s assistant this season. But nothing about watching Rafe meet a parade of beautiful, eligible bachelorette’s sounded fun. In fact, the opposite was true.

I never even took the cart out of first gear as I crawled toward the back of the set. The filming light was off, so there was a break between scenes. More than likely, a new contestant was being helped up into the carriage. As I pulled around to the back of the set, I could see several of the women in their glittering formal dresses and spectacular hairdos mingling around the patio with their drinks. I couldn’t blame them. I’d be guzzling the wine too. What a stressful position to be in.

I parked and walked around to where I knew I’d find Jackson and some of the other spectators. It was a sort of viewing booth that allowed us to watch and listen on a monitor.

Jackson looked over as I walked inside. “We’re waiting for bachelorette number five, Olivia, the lawyer. I’ve got my money on her. She’s gorgeous and smart. Where were you?”

“Taking a break.”

Jackson showed me his phone. “Texts from Tricia. Half the women in the country are in love, and the other half are the ones who haven’t seen the show yet. But by next week, everyone will be watching.”

Paula, the makeup artist’s assistant, glanced back from the monitor. “You should have seen the looks on the women’s faces when he walked up to take their hand at the carriage. You’d have thought Mr. Fucking Darcy himself had just emerged from Pemberley to greet them. Classic. I’ve got my money on Janelle, the lingerie model. She is so stunning, she hardly needed any makeup.”

Jackson waved off the prediction. “Please, did you read his bio? He’s got brains to go with that beauty. That model isn’t going to be able to keep up with the lawyer. Just wait. You’ll see what I mean.” Jackson focused back on the monitor. “The light’s back on,” he whispered.

We watched the monitor as the shiny white, Cinderella style carriage rolled up to the set. The camera angle showed Rafe from behind. His shoulder width was twice that of Taylor’s, the host. Rafe’s dark hair was glossy brown under the camera lights, and as he turned, it occurred to me that he looked just as good on camera as in person. It was no wonder the internet was having a meltdown.

He walked to the carriage, and a gorgeous brunette with silken skin and large almond-shaped eyes peered down at him from inside. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be in the viewing room. I wanted to be home, snuggled in my bed, my big orange cat resting on my feet and an old black and white movie on the television. I wanted to be anywhere but on set watching the meet and greet.

I patted Jackson on the shoulder to get his attention, and I pointed toward the exit. I mouthed the word
homework
to him, and before he could protest with hand movements, I slipped out the door. I headed back to the golf cart. I’d have to circle all the way around the studio to not get in the way of filming, but it was worth it. I needed to go home. It seemed that it was going to be a very long show season.

Chapter 6

Rafe

Maybe it was
just because she was a familiar face and I’d been cut off from the rest of the world, but I was glad as hell to see Eliot walking up the steps to the house. I swung open the door before she could knock. Her blue eyes rounded in surprise.

I reached out and grabbed her hand. “I need your help.” She stumbled a bit as I pulled her inside. I had flashcards with the bachelorette’s names, pictures and descriptions spread out over the coffee table.

“I was going to see what you wanted for breakfast, but I see we’re about to start up a study session.” She turned to me. “Studying happens to be a special skill of mine.” Her thick cloud of wavy brown hair, including the curl, had been tamed back with a blue headband. The word enzyme had been scrubbed completely away. Her skin was golden and flawless, but something told me she had no idea just how beautiful it was. The brilliant aqua color of her eyes hadn’t escaped my notice either. Today they were even brighter, as if she’d had a better night’s sleep.

“I made coffee. Want some?” I headed to the kitchen for another cup.

“No, I already had one. Two makes me jittery. Coffee lightweight. And I’m not much better with booze. One glass of wine and my lips and face are numb. And here I go again spilling all my deepest, darkest secrets.”

I walked out with my cup of coffee as she sat down on the couch. “If those are your darkest secrets, El, then you are just one step from angelhood, if there is such a thing.”

“If it comes with a pair of wings, I’ll take it. My car was cussing at me this morning, telling me, excuse the automobile French, to fuck off.”

I sat down next to her. “Sounds like you need a new set of wheels.”

“I do. Unfortunately, the only kind I can afford—i.e. skateboard or bicycle, are not allowed on the freeway.”

“I’m guessing the studio doesn’t pay well.”

Eliot leaned forward and began collecting up the contestant flashcards. “Actually, it’s a union job, so the pay is fine. But I’ve got—” She stopped. “Oh my gosh, I just keep babbling on about my life. So how did it go last night? I heard you had to negotiate with the director about which women to keep on the show.”

I put down the coffee and combed my hair back with my fingers. “Two of the women seemed a little unstable. I wanted them both to go, but they made me keep one. I know it’s for ratings, so I went along with it. Doesn’t really matter. I was kind of disappointed that you didn’t stick around.”

Eliot look surprised. “Why?”

I shrugged, thinking about the night before. It had been a blur of silk, perfume and lipstick, but the one face I looked for was nowhere to be seen. “I wanted your opinion. As you might have noticed, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

The vague outline of a smile formed on her lips. She seemed pleased to know I’d been looking for her. “From what Jackson told me this morning and last night when he called me at midnight—” She rolled her eyes. “All you have to do is stand around and look good. And, of course, narrow down the bevy of beauties to one lucky girl.” She held up the cards. “At least you’re down to just sixteen. Have you already singled out a few?” she asked and then shook her head. “No, you don’t have to answer that. I don’t want to—I don’t need to know. That’s all part of the mystique of being the bachelor. Only you know who you’ll actually end up with.”

“With the director and producer putting their hands on the scale now and then,” I added. “The truth is, El, I tend to have a short attention span when it comes to relationships. I’ve been with more than my share of fantastic women, but handing my heart over to one just isn’t in my nature.”

Sometimes the way Eliot looked at me it was as if she was trying to figure me out. Or it was possible she just felt bad for the big idiot who’d gotten himself into a giant fucking mess by trying out for a show he knew nothing about.

Eliot fisted me on the shoulder. Her eyes rounded as she glanced at her knuckles. “Holy shit, that’s like hitting a wall of bricks.” She peered back up at me with that incredibly intelligent blue gaze. “From what I’ve heard about the reaction online to the new bachelor, all you have to do is show up on set. Be yourself. I haven’t known you long, but I sense that you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t have to try hard to make friends . . . or steal hearts. Stay true to who you are, and let things happen naturally.” She touched her chest. “Work from here. Something tells me that under those well-defined pecs, there is big heart just waiting for the right person to come along and snatch it away from you.”

“I love your optimism. I’ll keep all that advice in mind. To answer your earlier question, no one’s been singled out. They were all beautiful, mostly likeable women, but no one stood out.” I held back a smile thinking that the one woman who had stood out as different was the one sitting in front of me. Eliot was so easy to talk to, I felt as if I’d already known her for years.

“I heard you picked horseback riding for the first activity with half of the girls. Are you trying to find the adventurous type? The women all had to agree to do whatever activity, no matter how scary, was asked of them. One year, the bachelor, some heir to a frozen food kingdom and a guy who was about as stiff and bland as frozen peas, decided he wanted to take four of the contestants skydiving. Three of the four girls broke down in tears, and the fourth, well, she was just—” Eliot twirled her finger around her temple. “One of the craziest yet, and we’ve seen a few who were several bells short in the bell tower, trust me.” She sucked in a breath as if she’d said something she shouldn’t have. “Not that you have to worry. I’ve heard they are screening them better now.” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “I will shut up now,” she said and then continued. “Are you a good rider?”

“Pretty good. I spent some of my teen years growing up on my grandfather’s Pennsylvania farm. I was a military brat. My dad was an army officer, and we moved from place to place. The more schools I went to, the more times I got into trouble. I needed stability, so they sent me to Pennsylvania.”

Eliot looked at the tattoo on my arm. “Is that why they called you Outlaw? Because you were a trouble making cowboy?”

“Nope, but, shit, that would be cool.  The nickname came from my ability to steal vehicles from the enemy. No wheels in the desert makes it kind of hard to get from one place to another.”

“I did not see that coming. So, what you’re saying is, you’re a skilled car thief.”

“Actually, they were usually old trucks and even some abandoned army vehicles, but yep, gone in sixty seconds and all that.”

She smiled as she seemed to be absorbing what I’d just told her. “I guess we should probably keep that little piece of information to ourselves. But, in my opinion, it’s a cool way to earn the nickname Outlaw.”

“Thank you. Glad it meets with your approval.”

“Guess we should get started on these.” Eliot scooted back to the far corner of the couch and lifted the cards in front of her face. “I’ll say a name, and you tell me a brief description.”

I rested back on the opposite corner. “Great. Fire away.”

“Roxanne.”

I tapped my chin and then pointed Eliot’s direction. “Blonde?”

Eliot shook her head.

“Brunette?”

“Nope.”

“Black?”

She raised a brow to assure me I was still way off.

“Red,” I blurted.

“Right.”

“Yes,” I said triumphantly.

Eliot lowered the cards and tilted her head. “Really? What else was left? Purple?” The curl had come loose from the headband and it swung to the side like a pendulum.

I laughed. “No, purple I would have remembered. I’m bad with names and faces. But now that I’m picturing red hair, Roxanne is the med student from Ohio and she plays golf.”

“Golf?” Eliot turned the card around and read it. “Huh, guess it’s a requirement if you’re going to be a doctor. Are you a golfer as well?”

I held out my arms. “Is there anything about me that says collared shirt and khaki trousers?”

“No, nothing at all.” She moved that card to the back. “Janelle.”

“Blonde lingerie model.”

Eliot blinked at me and twisted her mouth in annoyance.

“What? Is that wrong?”

“Nope. You nailed that one pretty fast.” She looked at the picture on the card and sighed. “No surprise there.” She moved on to the next card.

“Guess I’m pretty damn textbook when it comes to being a guy.”

“Not really, but she’s very pretty. Can’t fault you for noticing her. How about Shyla?”

“I’ve got it. I remember her because her name is Shyla, and she’s anything but shy. Practically climbed into my lap when we were sitting out on the patio. And she can down the booze. Dark brown hair and fake boobs.”

Eliot raised her brows as she peered over the cards at me.

“Told you she practically climbed into my lap. And she made sure to brush her double Ds against my arm . . . a lot.”

Eliot moved the card to the back of the deck. “She’s not your type. I can tell just by looking at her.”

“Good eye. She’s one I tried to send home, but Dougie boy made me keep her. You sure know me well already. I’ll bet in high school you were that girl who was every guy’s best buddy.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized how stupid they sounded.

Eliot’s lashes dropped, and her mouth turned down. “I should get you breakfast. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.” She tossed the cards on the table and got up from the couch.

I followed her to the kitchen and to the refrigerator. “Eliot, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just that—”

She stood up from the refrigerator with the carton of eggs and faced me. “I’m the type guys like to be chummy with, a good buddy and all that. I get it.”

“No, you’re twisting my words.”

“Am I?” She placed the carton of eggs on the counter.

“No, well, you’re embellishing my words.”

She held up an egg. “How many?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m just going to have cereal.”

She turned back to the carton and put the egg away. I took hold of her hand. She stared down at the eggs instead of looking at me. “It’s all right, Rafe. You’re not the first guy to tell me that I’m the chum type. It’s fine.”

I tugged her hand to encourage her to face me. Her brilliant blue eyes were like sapphires in the sunlight streaming through the window. They caused me to forget my words. I knew I was in the middle of a groveling apology, but I couldn’t remember what I was going to say.

She pulled her hand away. “You’ve got a big day ahead. Why don’t you get ready, and I’ll get that cereal.”

I stood looking at her for a long moment. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been knocked senseless by a woman, but it sure as hell had happened standing there in the kitchen of the bachelor’s house. I knew the moment for apologizing had passed. I had no idea why I’d said such a stupid ass thing in the first place. She wasn’t every guy’s best friend. Somewhere underneath the oversized t-shirts, messy hair and the heavy duty effort not to be noticed was the girl that every guy dreamed of.