Finding Cupid

by B. E. Baker

  The owner of the Atlanta Motor Speedway owes him a favor? Of course he does. The waiter arrives with our food, my Margherita pizza and Trig’s fettuccine, just in time to allow me to recover from my idiotic fangirl moment.

  He thanks the waiter for the food, and takes a bite. I rest a little easier when he seems to like it, chewing slowly with his eyes closed. I study his face while he’s not looking at me, my gaze lingering a little longer than it should. My fingers itch to touch the five o’clock shadow on his jawline. He swallows and licks his lips.

  “You’ve noticed how good my fettuccine is, right? Sometimes taking risks pays off.”

  I was definitely staring at the noodles, that’s it. “It can pay off, occasionally. But other times the pasta’s too hot and you burn your mouth. Or the sauce stains your shirt.” I point at the orange blotch on his collar.

  “Umm, hadn’t you heard? Stained is the new black.”

  I can’t suppress my laugh, and I see a little more why Luke likes him. “I guess I’m a little behind on my fashion primer for the season. Maybe I better pick up a few magazines and study up this weekend.”

  “Speaking of, are you free this Friday? Since you don’t date, I figure you’re usually free.”

  “I have client events most weekends,” I say.

  “Including this one?”

  He’s persistent. I’ll give him that.

  “I’m only asking because I’d be willing to stick around a little longer so we can go together. To talk to Nick about using his track for a few days, I mean. Would you be up for that?”

  “Oh, you don’t need to stay for me,” I say quickly, my breathing accelerating at the idea of spending all weekend with Trig. “You can write down Nick’s information and I’ll follow up. I’m pretty good with people. I bet I can convince your friend to make his track available, possibly without using up one of your favors. All I really need is an introduction.”

  “I’ll bet you can,” he says, eyebrows bobbing. “But maybe I don’t want you to convince him.”

  “What does that even mean?” I ask.

  The smirk slips from his face. “Nothing, I’m just saying that to be successful in your job, I’m sure you must be quite good with people. But Nick can be a pain, and sort of inappropriate sometimes, too. Besides, it’s no bother for me to introduce you in person since I’m already here. Details may be your thing, but convincing people to do what I want is my job.”

  “Is that so?” I set my napkin on the table. “You’re like a car salesman, then?”

  He shrugs. “Sure, in that I convince people to trust me so I can help them. Then I actually make all their dreams come true.”

  “So you’re basically a saint.”

  He nods. “Exactly. And I’m happy to help you, out of the goodness of my saintly heart.”

  No matter how tempting it might be to spend more time with Luke’s terminally cocky friend, I shake my head. “I can’t meet anyone this weekend. I’m checking out venues for the wedding, and we’re running very short on time. I’m booking a flight to Colorado for first thing tomorrow.”

  A smile spreads slowly across his face. “Colorado, huh? You don’t say.”

  “I do say.”

  “Now that my services have been turned down flat, I happen to be flying to Colorado tomorrow myself.”

  I snort. “Sure you are.”

  “I am. Because I happen to live there. I’d be happy to give you a ride.”

  In his private jet. Because of course he has a private jet.

  There’s absolutely no way I’m about to join the scads of girls who have flown a mile high with him in that thing. Luckily, I can use his lack of knowledge about the real world against him. “I appreciate the offer, I really do, but oddly enough, it costs more to fly one way than it does round trip. I’d hate to submit a bigger expense form to Luke and Mary. I’m sure you understand.”

  He lifts one eyebrow like he’s not sure that’s right, but he doesn’t challenge me, thankfully. “Well, even if you’re choosing to fly commercial, which I do not understand, I’d be happy to show you around. Are they thinking Vail or Aspen?”

  They hadn’t said. Which would he less likely to be familiar with? On my internet research last night, Aspen looked more exclusive. “I think they said Vail, but I’m not sure. I know the season closes around the same time as tax season, and Easter’s late this year. They want the wedding on Easter weekend if possible so most people will have Friday off from work. I hear the ski resorts will be closed by then, but there will be snow for the photos. Does that sound about right?”

  He nods. “It should be. Warm enough for a dress and a cape, but still a breathtaking white backdrop. The guests won’t be able to ski, though. If you want them to be able to ski, sometimes Aspen stays open through late April. Or at least Aspen mountain does.”

  I pull out my phone and text Luke and Mary. IF WE CHOSE COLORADO, WOULD YOU WANT GUESTS TO SKI? OR DO YOU JUST WANT THE MOUNTAINS FOR PHOTOS AND AMBIENCE?

  As I set my phone on the table, I notice my fingernail polish is chipped. Time for a manicure. I’ve barely had time to sleep since I started managing this wedding on top of my other events.

  “I prefer Vail,” he says. “I spent every day there as a kid, but Aspen’s definitely snootier if that’s what they’re going for.”

  In spite of having spent very limited time with Mary, I’m fairly certain she’s not aiming for snooty. “Do Luke and Mary strike you as fancy people?”

  “I’ve never even met Mary,” he says. “Maybe you can tell me about her. I doubt I can trust Luke’s descriptions. He’s a little smitten.”

  “With good cause. Mary’s smart, no-nonsense, and organized. At least, until you plonk a kid down next to her she is. Then she kind of melts and turns all gooey. She seems like the kind of person who was born to be a mom, and those kids adore her. On top of all that, she’s also beautiful. My best friend from college works for her, and from some things Paisley’s said, I’m guessing she’s kind of a hard friend to have.”

  Trig tilts his head. “How so?”

  “You know, lots of girls don’t like her because being around someone that amazing sort of makes you feel bad about yourself. Not that Mary makes people feel bad, but it’s sort of a byproduct of being fabulous. She’s prettier than you, smarter than you, more advanced in her career, generous to a fault, and more organized.”

  Trig bites his lip.

  “What?” I ask. “You obviously have something to say.”

  “You appear pretty organized yourself.”

  “That’s literally my job description. But it’s an aspect of her personality from what I can tell. And she’s wicked smart and runs an entire office of people who somehow also adore her. It’ll make more sense when you see her. You’d expect her to look like Janet Reno, but she looks like… like a young Meg Ryan, maybe.”

  “If this Paisley person is your best friend, I imagine she’s comfortable surrounding herself with beautiful women.”

  Blood rushes to my cheeks and I frown at my reaction. I’m sure he’s used to every woman he meets falling at his feet, so flirting probably comes second nature to him. It doesn’t mean anything. Still, better to be clear from the outset. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Mr. Thornton. I don’t date clients or their friends.”

  “I get it.”

  “You do?” Some of the men I meet, especially the good looking or wealthy ones, can be pretty persistent. After the past few years, I practically have a PhD in turning men down. Ironically, the more I turn some of them down, the harder they try. It can get exhausting. I wish there was a way around that. A fake boyfriend, maybe.

  “You clearly command the interest of every man you meet, but I’m different.”

  Because of his boyish charm and all American looks? Because of his private jet? Because he’s respectful and smart, even though he’s inherited gobs of money? Because he’s a whiz at math?

  “Do tell me, how are you different?”
/>   “For one, I’m not a client.”

  “You’re client adjacent. My client’s best man,” I say flatly.

  “A job I’d gladly step down from for the slightest inducement. James would probably do a better job anyway.”

  My face heats again. “Look, I don’t know how I could be clearer. I’m not interested, and in fact, I don’t date anyone, clients or otherwise.”

  My phone buzzes, which thankfully saves me from this awkward conversation. It’s Luke.

  WE’D LIKE GUESTS TO BE ABLE TO SKI IF THEY COULD, BUT NOT ALL OF OUR GUESTS HAVE PRIVATE PLANES. VAIL’S AIRPORT HAS COMMERCIAL FLIGHTS.

  “They’d prefer Vail,” I say. “So that Mary’s friends can fly in easier. Apparently Aspen accepts private flights only.”

  “Good thing for you, or you’d have to beg me for a ride. Which might be embarrassing after you turned me down so resoundingly.”

  I roll my eyes. “I think I’ll manage just fine. You may not realize this, but the vast majority of people on Earth survive, and some even thrive, without ever flying on a private jet. At all.”

  “Fine, spurn my wings. But I went to high school with the director of the resort. You sure you don’t want any help from me at all? You could even ski for free with me along. I’ve skied free ever since my buddy took over management there. Perk of being an alumni of Kent Denver High School.”

  “The only perk of my high school days is free snow cones from the only guy on the cheer squad with me.” I shrug. “Maybe I went to the wrong high school, but I’d be happy to take you for a free one sometime. He makes a mean crème de menthe.” I gulp. That sounded an awful lot like flirting, or even a borderline date offer. “Not that anyone wants a snow cone in January.”

  “If you leverage my connections this weekend, I promise to come back in July and take you up on your offer.”

  He’ll fly out in July on his private jet… for a free snow cone? This whole interaction is getting far too flirty. I ought to turn him down on principle, but I am on a tight timeline to book a decent venue. If he could grease the skids on securing the date we want, or maybe even secure a discount for Luke and Mary, I’d be a horrible person to turn him down. “I suppose if you’re not busy, I’d appreciate an introduction, but I don’t ski.”

  Trig beams. “I’m happy to meet you there, and I can totally teach you to ski. Saturday morning at ten a.m.?”

  How could I be clearer? “I didn’t say I don’t know how. I said I won’t be skiing. Let me just clear this timing.” My fingers fly over my phone keys, texting Mary and Luke.

  TRIG OFFERED TO INTRODUCE ME TO THE DIRECTOR OF VAIL’S RESORT. SATURDAY MORNING FINE? I’LL PROBABLY BE OUT OF POCKET FOR A FEW DAYS, DEPENDING ON FLIGHTS.

  Luke texts back immediately. DEPENDING ON FLIGHTS? TELL THAT LOSER TO GIVE YOU A RIDE IN HIS FREAKING CESSNA.

  I take that as consent to the timing. “They said it’s fine. Should I call and set up the appointment? What’s your friend’s name? Is he the Charles Corning listed on the website?”

  Trig shakes his head and when he smiles this time, I can’t seem to look away from the impish curve of his mouth. Or his straight, shiny white teeth. I shouldn’t be admiring anything about him, and certainly not those. After all, every shark has shiny white chompers. “I’ll handle that part.”

  “I hope you’re not trying to steal my job.” Again with the involuntary flirting. Get a grip, Geo.

  “I do steal things sometimes, but your job won’t be one of them,” he says. “I promise.”

  “What exactly do you steal?” I clutch my purse against my chest melodramatically, apparently unable to help myself.

  “Like I’d ever admit what I really steal.”

  “I think I can guess,” I say. “Girlfriends. Companies. Maybe stock options? Hopefully not pensions.”

  He chuckles. “I’d never touch pensions, but I can neither confirm nor deny any of the other allegations.”

  The waiter shows up again. “Was everything okay?” He glances at my plate where more than half of my pizza’s still uneaten.

  I look up at him sheepishly. “I ate about a dozen breadsticks while I waited for this guy.” I point at Trig. “The pizza was great. I just can’t eat another bite or I’ll have to undo the top button on my pants.”

  I set my purse on the table and reach my hand out for the check, but Trig’s faster. He hands a black card to the guy, who totally takes it, the sexist.

  “This is a work meal,” I say. “I insist on paying.”

  “That’s cute.” He turns to the waiter. “Can you believe how far this woman will go to make sure everyone knows we aren’t on a date? Turning down a free meal and insisting on paying at the top of her lungs. How ugly am I?”

  My cheeks heat up again. “You can pay, but it’s certainly not a date. And not because I think you’re unattractive, but because it would be unprofessional.”

  “So you do find me handsome. I knew it.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “You have to know that Mary meant to set us up,” Trig says.

  The waiter takes the check and looks back and forth from me to Trig before turning tail and running. Chicken.

  “No way,” I say. “She actually asked me whether I was single, and I told her I’m not dating anyone, not now, and not at any point in the future.”

  “Did she ask why?” Trig asks.

  “She did.” I purse my lips. He’s good. “And I didn’t tell her either, because it’s no one else’s business.”

  “That was a major shut down,” Trig says. “Duly noted.”

  I stand up and slide my arms into my leather jacket one at a time. “Thank you for lunch. I’ll see you Saturday morning at the main business office lobby of the Vail Mountain Resort?”

  Trig nods. “You might need my number. Just in case something comes up.”

  Not a bad idea actually. I whip out my phone. “Go ahead.”

  “It’s 720-Trig-Rox, with an ‘x’.”

  “You’re kidding.” I grin. I can’t help it. “I’m so sorry I let you pay. I had no idea you were fifteen years old.”

  “I was a teenager when I got my first cell phone and that number was available. I thought it would be easy for girls to remember. Plus, I’d just gotten that nickname and I was kind of proud of it.”

  “You realize you don’t have to tell people your number like that anymore,” I say. “You could just list the numbers. I’d never have noticed.”

  He smirks. “I might still think it’s kind of cool.”

  “You’d be wrong.” My smile softens my words. I still don’t like him, but he’s almost endearingly goofy, like a puppy fumbling around on oversized paws. “And since you’re paying, I don’t have to hang around, so thanks. I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes.”

  “Who knew that paying for your lunch would cut our date short?” Trig says.

  “You’d have had an extra forty minutes if you’d been punctual.”

  He feigns an injury to his heart. What a cornball.

  “Thanks for lunch. I hope your fettuccine was good.”

  “The pizza looked better,” he admits. “I was just being contrary, and then I doubled down by lying and saying it was amazing.”

  “The pizza was excellent in truth. You’re welcome to my leftovers.”

  He reaches over and takes a slice. “I think technically they’re my leftovers.”

  “See you Saturday.” I step toward the door, but a hand on my shoulder spins me around.

  “You might want this.” Trig slides the strap to my purse over my shoulder. “Even if men offer to pay for you everywhere you go, you’ll need your ID for that commercial flight you insist on taking.”

  “But if I flew with you to Colorado, flying coach on the way home would be too depressing. You might ruin me for all future flights.” I’m going to have to duct tape my mouth shut. The flirting keeps spewing out unchecked.

  He’s standing so close I can almost feel his basil scented breath on
my face. “If you asked nicely, I’m sure I could fly you back home, too.”

  “I’ll see you Saturday,” I repeat and practically sprint to the door. Bad Geo. No flirting with anyone, especially not spoiled billionaires.

  4

  Trig

  I think about Geo the entire flight home. And when I doze off, I dream about her.

  It’s not PG rated.

  When I reach the family cabin in Vail and breeze through the door, I’m surprised to discover it’s already occupied.

  “Brekka,” I say. “I had no idea you were here.”

  My little sister’s face used to be sun-kissed year round. Now it’s pale against her dark hair, almost ghostly really. “I cleaned up the fallout from the Feather Lite deal early. Mom said you were headed this way, so here I am.”

  I lean over and press a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks for dealing with that.”

  “What did Luke want?” she asks.

  I plop down on the tan microfiber couch. “He’s engaged.”

  Brekka’s face is always beautiful. Delicate features, dark brown eyes like velvety butterfly wings, and a fringe of hair that’s always falling in her eyes, but when she smiles, she’s truly breathtaking. She doesn’t smile much anymore, so I treasure each one.

  Brekka beams when she hears Luke’s news. “I’m so happy for him. I hope I’ll be invited.”

  I nod. “I’m sure of it. He asked me to be his best man.”

  She exhales. “Uh oh. What about Paul?”

  My sister has crushed on my best friend’s pretty-boy little brother for fifteen years. “He’s too busy with some new project. Apparently I’m his top fall back.” I grin so she knows I’m not upset, and neither is precious Paul.

  “He asked about you, you know.”

  Brekka’s cheeks flush and the color looks good on her. “You should go outside more often,” I say.