27 Ways to Find a Boyfriend

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  He smiles, almost as if he senses something is up. With narrowed eyes, he subtly glances Carter’s way and then raises an eyebrow at me when my father isn’t looking.

  “What’s good here?” I ask, changing the subject as I dive into the menu.

  “I’m a meat and potatoes kind of guy,” Trevor says, going with the flow. “So I’d recommend the prime rib.”

  Thankfully, the waiter comes to take our order, and the conversation shifts to the roadster. I idly listen, trying to keep my eyes off Carter. He glances my way every so often, and every time our eyes meet, a smirk plays across his lips. His veiled expression promises that somehow, someway, he’s going to get me alone before the evening is over.

  And that’s just fine by me.

  The apple strawberry salad is excellent; my salmon is delightful. But by the time I finish my last oh-so-rich bite of chocolate mousse cake, I’m ready to get out of here.

  “The offer stands if you change your mind,” Trevor says to me as we step outside.

  The Georgia evening is warm and sultry. Buttery yellow roses flank the restaurant, mixed in a bed with white gardenias. Their combined scent is heady, and I breathe it in, wishing I could steal away with Carter for the rest of the evening. There’s music in the air, and the lights against the night sky are bright.

  I’d love to do some sightseeing, and I had planned to wander a bit on my own tomorrow. Now it looks like I’ll be pool-bound.

  “Thanks,” I tell Trevor.

  “Here’s my number just in case.” He hands me a cocktail napkin, and then he turns to Carter, Lydia, and Dad. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  We part ways and head to the car Trevor lent us for the weekend—it’s much nicer than taking a cab or calling an Uber.

  “I’m going to bed,” I announce as soon as we reach the hotel lobby. It’s an architecturally beautiful structure, with each floor looking out over the grand atrium and a skylight capping everything at the top. Several tall, tropical-looking trees grow from a protected bed right in the middle, and a fountain trickles in front of them.

  “It’s not even nine,” Dad says, frowning like he’s worried I’m coming down with something.

  I shrug. “I guess I’m tired from the flight.”

  “I’d like some coffee before bed,” Lydia says to Dad, pointing to the little café in the corner.

  “Addison?” Dad asks. “Coffee?”

  I shake my head, trying not to look at Carter. “No, thanks.”

  “Carter?”

  “Nah, I’m pretty tired too,” he says. “I think I’m going to turn in.”

  Dad looks skeptical—as he should—but doesn’t call us on it.

  “We’ll be up in a bit,” Dad says to me. “If you need anything, call me.”

  I give them a wave, trying not to show them how giddy I am to be away, and walk to the elevators with Carter. We stand side by side, neither of us talking, waiting as the lights on the elevator show the lift’s slow descent.

  Finally, it reaches the main level, and with a ding, the doors slide open. A couple dressed to the nines steps out, barely glancing at us as we pass them.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, hoping no one will join us. Slowly, slowly, the doors close once more. As soon as they’re shut, Carter turns to me. He wears a small smile that makes me flush, and I resist the urge to press a hand to my stomach.

  Without a word, he stalks forward, stepping into my space. His hands find the sides of my waist, and they’re warm through the thin fabric of my sundress.

  I reach up to loosen his tie, just as I pictured. He groans and tips his head back, acting as if it’s been driving him crazy all night.

  “Better?” I ask, my voice quiet even though we’re alone.

  He looks down, meeting my eyes. “Much better.”

  Not a moment later, Carter’s lips are on mine. He tightens his grip on me, holding me tighter, his fingers splaying over the lightweight fabric of my dress.

  Just as I’m pressing closer, inviting Carter to deepen the kiss, the elevator doors slide open, and a belated thought pops into my brain: we didn’t push a floor number. The elevator didn’t rise—we’re still on the main level.

  And that man standing there on the other side of the doors, the one looking dumbfounded and a bit red in the face…yep, that’s my dad.

  28

  Carter and I fly apart, looking guilty even though we haven’t done anything wrong.

  “Addison,” Dad says simply, the eerily spoken word conveying all of his disappointment—like I’m a naughty child caught peeking at the Christmas presents.

  “Sir, I—” Carter begins.

  “Don’t.” Dad holds up a hand, cutting him off. “You two know the rules—no fraternizing between employees.”

  “I’m not your employee; I’m your daughter,” I snarl, and all of my irritation from the last several years begins to bubble to the surface. “And this is ridiculous.”

  Dad steps into the elevator, and Lydia walks in behind him, staying silent, as usual. He remembers to actually push the floor number—a novel idea—and the doors close, trapping us in this rather tiny space.

  No one says anything. Maybe Dad will drop it—bring it up later when we’re back in Arizona. I’d almost prefer we’d get the conversation over with now. Why prolong it?

  When the doors open on the ninth level, Dad gives me a pointed look, telling me to step out. I turn to Carter, unsure how to proceed. He presses his lips together, looking as uncertain as I feel. Then he nods toward the exit, wearing an expression that says we’ll figure it out later.

  Giving him a grim smile, I step out of the elevator.

  “I’ll see you at the museum in the morning,” Dad says to Carter before the doors close once more. “I expect you can find your own ride.”

  “Yes, sir,” Carter says.

  The elevator closes, and I’m left standing with Dad and Lydia. It’s beyond uncomfortable, and I don’t know what to say. I’m not going to apologize for being with Carter. We probably should have been open about it from the beginning, but when it comes down to it, I’m a grown woman.

  “I’m going to my room.” I’m already walking.

  “I don’t want you seeing him anymore,” Dad says.

  I stop, clenching my fists. Slowly, I turn. “Daddy, I love you, but that’s not your decision to make.”

  “The rule is in place for a reason. What happens when he hurts you? When you have a fight or when the two of you inevitably break up? Do you honestly think Carter’s going to commit?”

  “Gary, please,” Lydia starts, setting her hand on my dad’s arm.

  He frowns down at her, but he doesn’t drop it. “We work in a high-stress line of work with tight deadlines and stressful hours,” he continues. “The last thing we need is the two of you causing excess drama.”

  “I love him.”

  “You love him?” Dad crosses his arms, his expression stony. He shakes his head likes it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “Okay. Let’s say you get married—everything’s great. You have a kid, but maybe it’s a little too much for him. Are you going to still love him if he walks out? If he leaves you all by yourself with a baby in the middle of the night?”

  His words are like a punch in the gut, but not because I’m picturing Carter. I’m picturing him, all by himself when I was only eight months old. Alone, abandoned. Probably scared out of his mind because he didn’t have a clue how to take care of me by himself.

  “Find a solid man, Addison—someone dependable,” he says vehemently. “Someone who is going to be there for you.” He tosses his hands in the air. “Start with someone who doesn’t date a new girl every week.”

  “Daddy,” I whisper.

  He doesn’t want me to hurt like he hurt, but Carter isn’t my mother.

  Lydia blinks several times, just as overwhelmed as me. Dad doesn’t talk about my mom. He doesn’t bring up moments of weakness or vulnerability, and this…this is almost t
oo much to witness.

  His expression softens, but it also becomes heartbreakingly sad. “You didn’t know her, but your mom was like Carter, Addison. She was vibrant, beautiful—people loved her. I thought I was the luckiest man in the world to catch her. Then she left us.”

  I wipe my eye with the back of my hand, aching for him. But he’s right—I don’t remember. He’s the only parent I ever knew, and for the most part, I never felt like I was lacking anything. And anytime I needed a little motherly love, Lydia was there to lavish me with it.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally say—sorry that my mother did that to him…and sorry that I’m not going to walk away from Carter. It’s not fair or right to judge one person for someone else’s mistakes, and I won’t do it.

  For the last few months, Carter has been there when I needed him. He put in dog doors and drove me to the emergency room, and I have no doubt he’ll help me plant those flower beds when I ask him to.

  A couple and their two children step out of the elevator, putting a halt to our conversation.

  “I’m going to bed,” I say once they leave.

  “Date anyone in the shop you want,” Dad says. “Isaac, Gage, Tad—I don’t care.”

  “Goodnight, Daddy,” I call as I turn for my room, my head beginning to throb.

  “The rule was in place because of Carter.”

  “Gary,” Lydia says, her tone surprised and laced with chastisement.

  I turn, growing irritated. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not blind. You’ve been starry-eyed over him for nearly fifteen years, and he’s been watching you for at least five. But he’s all wrong for you.”

  Meeting my father’s eyes, I give him a sad smile. I know where he’s coming from—I know he’s trying to protect me. But this time, I’m certain he’s wrong. “I’m afraid that’s not for you to decide.”

  * * *

  I’m exhausted as I drive to work Monday morning. No matter how I try to push it from my head, I keep reliving our weekend in Atlanta. The memory runs on a constant, depressing loop through my brain.

  The museum’s grand opening should have been my Cinderella moment—I was going to wear a gorgeous gown, and Carter was going to be my Prince Charming. We’d share stolen glances most of the night, and then toward the end of the evening, we’d sneak away and have a romantic moment that I would look back on fondly for the rest of my life.

  I don’t think I need to tell you that’s not how it went.

  Trevor casually flirted with me and a dozen other girls most of the night. Dad was in a melancholy mood; Lydia barely talked. Carter was sullen and quiet, smiling only when he and my father were recognized for their work on the roadster. He and I didn’t speak the entire evening—a courtesy to my dad only. We’re all right.

  The roadster was…breathtaking. Carter brought his vision to life, replacing the soft top with a solid one, staying true to the car but creating a sleek, modern feel. He chose a pearly scarlet for the paint and added silver accents. The car turned out to be classy and elegant. It was the star of the event.

  Even though Carter had to stay through the weekend, I ended up flying home early Saturday morning. Cocoa was happy to see me, but he seemed confused every time I’d randomly start crying.

  “Morning,” Lydia says quietly from her desk when I walk into the office. I have the worst feeling a storm is about to hit.

  “Hey.” I toss my purse on my desk and then turn toward her. “How bad is it?”

  She meets my eyes and gives me a sad smile. “Pretty bad.”

  “Is he going to fire Carter?”

  “I don’t know. Probably. I hope not.”

  Nodding, I leave the office to get coffee—I have a feeling it’s a caffeine sort of day. Isaac and Tad are in the break room, and they don’t meet my eyes as I walk in.

  “Hey, Addison,” Tad says, staring at the coffee maker as it slowly drips into the glass carafe.

  It’s not even nine, and yet they already know something is up. How do they do that?

  “Hi.”

  “Carter is in with your dad,” Isaac says.

  “What?”

  Already? And why didn’t anyone tell me?

  I leave the breakroom and walk to Dad’s office. I’m about to storm in—my hand is on the handle—but maybe they need to work this out on their own. I don’t want Dad trying to solve all my problems. I doubt Carter wants me trying to solve his.

  Slowly, I step back. For a moment, I actually debate pushing my ear against the door like a little kid. Then, like the grown-up I constantly claim to be, I squash that impulse.

  I walk back to the break room, pour a cup of coffee, and go to my desk to get some work done.

  It’s been a long time—another twenty minutes have passed. I listen for the door, waiting, barely able to focus on the computer screen.

  Finally, Dad’s office opens.

  I stand, almost spilling my nearly full, mostly cold mug of coffee, and hurry to the hall.

  Carter meets my eyes, and he looks…horrible. His shoulders are slumped, and his eyes are listless.

  I turn to my father, seething. “You fired him.”

  “You both knew the rules,” Dad says, not in the least bit apologetic. “One of you has to go.”

  “One of us?” I repeat.

  Dad nods like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world.

  I look at Carter, but he works up a smile, trying to tell me he’s okay—that we’ll be okay.

  And that might be, but I’m not okay. Carter is not going to lose his job because of me. He’s worked here for eleven years. He’s a vital member of the team. Dad can’t cut him out—it would be like chopping off his own arm.

  “I quit,” I say, standing a bit straighter.

  “What?” Dad and Carter say at the same time.

  “If one of us has to go, then it’s going to be me.” I look at Dad. “I quit.”

  “You can’t,” Dad says like he genuinely believes I won’t be able to make it anywhere else—that I’ll wither without his constant care and attention. “Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s time.” I step forward and hug him. “I love you.”

  He just stands there like a statue, dumbfounded. He doesn’t even manage to put his arms around me. “You’re going to choose him over me?”

  I pull back, looking him in the eyes. “Daddy, I choose you both—and you have got to stop looking at me like I’m running away from home. I just can’t work here anymore. We need a little space.”

  “Space?”

  I pat his arm. “It’ll be good for us. You’ll see.”

  Like a fish flopped onto dry land, he gapes at me. It’s all right, though. He’s upset now, but I know we’ll be okay.

  “I’ll call you later,” I say to Carter, and then I turn on my heel and head for the office.

  “What happened?” Lydia asks the moment I walk through the door.

  “Dad said one of us has to go—so I’m going.”

  “He fired you?” she gasps.

  Laughing at that absurd thought, I shake my head. “I quit.”

  Apparently, that’s just as shocking because she pushes away from her desk, giving me her full attention. “He’s letting you leave?”

  I smile to myself. “I didn’t really give him a choice.”

  29

  It’s been six months since Addison strode out those shop doors, and Gary hasn’t fired me yet. For the first month, I walked into work every day expecting it to be my last.

  Don’t get me wrong—Gary wants to fire me. I can see him watching, waiting for me to mess up—waiting for a good reason to send me packing. You better believe I’ve been the model employee.

  Still, it’s only a matter of time.

  That’s why I’ve been sending out resumes all across the country. Today, everything changes. I stare at the letter. Excitement and nerves cause my stomach to clench. Chicago is a long way from here, but it’s time for a change.

&nbs
p; I set the letter aside and walk to my dresser. In the top drawer, under a pile of socks, sits a small velvet case. I bought the ring a while ago, about four months after our world fell apart. Somehow, Addison and I managed to make it through—more than managed.

  I’d move across the US to be with her and start over—even if it means I have to say goodbye to Arizona. I’ll miss the red rocks, dry heat, and bright blue sky. I’ll miss the guys in the shop and the familiarity of the place. I’ll miss my sisters—especially Jessa—and my parents.

  However, I won’t miss walking around on eggshells all the time. I certainly won’t miss the tense, mandatory Sunday lunches with Lydia and Gary. Don’t get me wrong; I’d put up with it if Addison weren’t so worn out. She thought Gary would come around by now—that he’d accept us.

  He hasn’t.

  I grab the letter and the ring as I walk out the door, and then I drive toward Sedona, off to a little trailhead where I happen to get good cell phone service. Thankfully, it’s a quiet Thursday in December, and I’m the only one here.

  “Hey,” I say when Addison answers her phone. “I need you to come get me—bring jumper cables.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Copper Plate Trail, the one we took Cocoa to last month. My truck died—the battery’s dead.”

  “What the heck are you doing out there?”

  Addison ended up getting a job working from home, doing…I don’t know. Online stuff. No one in the automotive industry within a hundred-mile radius would hire her—Gary called in a lot of favors. He wanted her back.

  She refused.

  “I’ve had a lot to think about this morning.” I grin as I set the letter on the driver’s seat, making sure she’ll notice it when she gets here.

  “Give me five minutes, and then I’ll head your way,” she says.

  Thirty minutes later, she pulls up in her midnight blue GTO. Man, she looks good in it.

  “Hey, car guy,” she says, leaning against the door. Her strawberry blond hair is up in a messy bun, and she’s wearing a long cardigan over a T-shirt and jeans. She ditched the heels a long time ago, and I can’t say I miss them. “Need a little assistance?”