The Reluctant Bachelorette

by Rachael Anderson

  “Hey,” she finally said, with a pitiful wave of her hand. Boring, yes. Lame, definitely. But there it was.

  The bachelors moved forward, encircling her into a claustrophobic cocoon.

  “You finally made it,” someone said.

  Another passed her a white lily he must have taken from one of the arrangements. “I hear you like flowers.”

  Still another pushed forward. “Since I was the first to arrive, I get Taycee first.” Like she was a popular toy at a black Friday sale.

  Within seconds, it was apparent that Taycee would never get to know the guys this way. She laid a hand on the arm nearest to her and blurted, “Want to dance?” then immediately regretted it. Why couldn’t she have said, “Hey, see those two chairs over there in the corner? What do you say we go chat for a few minutes?” or “Hey, why don’t we go scope out the refreshments?” Instead, her dimwitted mind came up with the one thing that kept her front and center, showing off her non-existent dancing skills.

  Evidently she didn’t need Luke to goad her into saying or doing something stupid. She managed to do that just fine on her own.

  “Yes ma’am,” said Miles with his deep southern drawl. He grinned, tipped his black cowboy hat that he wore, and then swept her into his arms and started backing her around the room. Oh heavens. The two-step—a dance several people had tried to teach her, but had failed miserably. Good thing she was barefoot. Not only would her shoes have made her taller than Miles, but she would probably be stepping on his toes a lot.

  And she thought things had been awkward before.

  “So, Miles, you’re in the rodeo circuit, right?” Taycee said in an attempt to forget all the eyes looking their way.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Calf roping and bull riding are my specialty. There’s nothin’ like the rush you get in that arena, I tell ya.”

  Taycee would have to take his word for it on that one. The only kind of rush she’d get from being thrown from a bull and then charged or gored or trampled by a bull would be the heart-attack, brain aneurysm kind. “How did you get into that?”

  He shrugged. “It’s in my blood, I guess. My daddy was a bull rider so it’s the only life I’ve known.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. ”Between you and me, I can be a bit shy at times, but drop me somewhere near a rodeo and I come out of my shell like a turtle itchin’ to sunbathe.”

  Taycee laughed. “Then you’ll be happy to know that there will be a couple of rodeos going on around here during the next month.”

  “I know.” He winked. “Where do ya think we’re going for our first date if I get the chance to take you out?”

  Hmm . . . to the rodeo with Miles. Definitely not a bad prospect. He didn’t spit when he talked, he made her laugh, and he was actually a decent dance partner. All pluses. The fact that he didn’t goad her into saying something she’d regret was just a bonus. Her gaze automatically drifted to Luke, who now stood talking to another guy with his eyes trained on her. He looked amused. As if her obvious discomfort was something to laugh about.

  She returned her attention to Miles, with his cowboy hat and boyish smile. Yeah, a date with him would be nice. Fun even.

  “Here’s hoping you get that chance,” she said. “I’ve always been a sucker for a guy in a cowboy hat.”

  Miles chuckled and touched the rim of his hat. “Good to know ‘cause we’re pretty inseparable.”

  Sterling, the spitter, appeared at Miles’s side and tapped him on the shoulder. Then he asked to cut in.

  Visions of getting drenched with spit filled Taycee’s mind, so when Miles moved aside, Taycee said quickly, “Mind if we sit for a minute instead? My feet could use a break.” Without waiting for an answer, she led him to two chairs facing each other and sat as far back as she could.

  Sterling leaned forward, closing the gap she’d created. “Som you’re a flower girl?” He laughed like he’d just stated the funniest pun ever.

  Taycee forced a smile to her lips even as spittle landed on her hands. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Well, if you ever need an accountant, I’m your guy.” More spittle.

  Taycee wedged herself deeper into her chair, folding her arms snug against her body. Maybe that would help. Or at least confine it to her dress rather than her bare skin. “I take it you’re a numbers person?”

  Sterling nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Always have been, always will be. In fact, back in high school . . .” Taycee tried not to cringe as the shower of spit came her way. Where were the other bachelors? On the real show, some guy was always cutting in, interrupting, or stealing away the bachelorette. Why weren’t they doing that now?

  A hand rested on her shoulder, and Taycee turned toward it, ready to say yes to anything that was asked of her. She followed the hand up to a handsome face with two blue eyes. Jake, the smooth-talker from California who’d wanted to whisk her away for a drive.

  “You don’t mind if I steal her for a dance, do you Sterling?” Jake said.

  “But we just sat down and her feet hurt,” Sterling spluttered.

  As much as Taycee wanted to blurt out that she felt better now, she kept her mouth shut. Still, her eyes pleaded with Jake to save her. Do something. Anything. Pretty please? With a hundred million cherries on top?

  He didn’t disappoint. From his pocket he pulled out a deck of cards. “Tell you what, Sylvie. We’re each going to draw a card from this stack. Highest card wins.”

  “Wins what?” Sterling stared at the cards in confusion.

  “Taycee, of course.”

  Oh. Nice. Taycee frowned at the deck. Surely Jake could have thought of a less chancy way of saving her. Fifty-fifty weren’t her kind of odds.

  “Uh . . .” Sterling hesitated. Evidently he didn’t like the odds either.

  “C’mon. Draw a card. You can do it,” Jake coaxed, fanning out the deck.

  With a roll of his eyes, Sterling snatched one from the deck. “How do I know you’re not scamming me?” he asked, looking at the card.

  “You don’t. That’s part of the fun.” Jake held the deck in front of Taycee. “Would you mind picking my card?”

  “Uh . . . sure.” Her fingers flitted across the top, finally resting on one. Please be higher than Sterling’s. Please, please, please. With a tug, she pulled it free and held it up. “The ten of spades.”

  “I’ve got an eight of hearts.” Sterling tossed the card at Jake and stood. “Looks like you win.”

  “You’re a good sport, Sylvie.” Jake slapped him on the back before shrugging out of his jacket and taking the empty seat across from Taycee.

  “Do you always carry a deck of cards in your pocket?” Taycee said.

  Jake’s eyebrow rose. “What, not even a thanks for saving you?”

  A red light glowed in her peripheral vision, reminding Taycee that whatever she said could be broadcasted over the internet in a few days’ time. No need for all the viewers to know how she really felt about Sterling’s salivary glands. “Saving me from what? Resting?”

  A knowing smile played across Jake’s tanned face, but he let the subject drop. He leaned forward, still holding the cards. “So, what’s it going to be? 52-Card Pickup or a dance with me?”

  Hmm . . . dancing or cards. Tough choice. Not. “How about this: If you can beat me in a game of Speed, I’ll dance with you. If not, we stay here and talk.”

  A smile spread across his face. “All right. You’re on.” He pulled a small table closer, and then dealt the cards. Some of the other bachelors gathered around to watch as Taycee picked up her cards with confidence. This was her game—a game she never lost. She was saved from having to dance again.

  They started playing, and within minutes, she slapped her last card on the table. “I won!” she called as cheers and clapping broke out around her.

  “Hustler,” Jake accused.

  “Hey, a bet’s a bet. You’re not going to be a sore loser, are you?”

  Murmurs broke out around Tay
cee, and a bachelor named Greg stepped forward. Tall and thin, he wore a wrinkled button-down shirt. “Move over, Jake,” Greg said. “Give the rest of us a chance to win that dance.”

  And that’s how it began. A game of Speed for a chance to win a dance with Taycee. With a contented smile, she settled into her out-of-the way seat and won game after game after game. Time started to fly. Granted, she wasn’t getting to know the bachelors as well as she could of if she’d danced with them, but no matter. For the first time all day, Taycee was able to relax and enjoy the night. If a bachelor had a problem with it or didn’t like cards, and then he wasn’t a good fit for her anyway.

  Taycee smiled in satisfaction as yet another bachelor vacated the seat in front of her. It was probably time to put an end to this game, but she wasn’t quite ready—not when giving back the cards meant a return of the awkwardness. So she picked up the deck and shuffled the cards as another bachelor sank down opposite her.

  When she glanced up, a few cards flew out of her hand. Luke smiled at her with a gleam in those confident brown eyes of his.

  “Think you can beat me, too?” he said.

  “Easy.” Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the cards. Luke had been the one to teach her the game. There was a time they’d played it often—mostly because Taycee was determined to beat him at least once. So she kept trying and trying and trying, but she’d never won. Not once.

  Crap.

  Luke hunched forward, and Taycee’s eyes were drawn to the curve of his shoulders. What would it fill like to bury her face right there, just below his collar bone? To have his arms surround her, pulling her in and keeping her close as they swayed to the slow song now coming through the speakers?

  It would feel good. Too good. It would make her feel things, want things, wish for things that would never happen.

  She had to win this game because dancing with Luke would be a very bad idea.

  Taycee took her time dealing the cards. It was ridiculous that Luke could upset her equanimity so easily. Here she was, in a room full of handsome guys that most girls would give anything to go out with. Who cared about Luke?

  Not her.

  No way.

  Never.

  “Go,” said Luke.

  No, no, no. She wasn’t ready.

  In what seemed like seconds, Luke’s pile was gone, leaving her with three cards still in her hand. A wicked smile stretched across his face as he stood and held out his hand. “Looks like I won. Care to dance, Taycee Lynne?”

  Of all the things he could have remembered about her, that nickname was the worst. Two words and she was like a puppy, lapping it up and drooling for more. But she didn’t want to be like a puppy. She wanted to be strong. Confident. The kind of girl who was in complete ownership of her mind and her heart.

  Nervous anticipation rippled through her body as she placed her hand in his. With a gentle tug, he pulled her to her feet and took her in his arms. His hand settled on her waist while another clasped her hand. He smelled clean with a hint of aftershave. She felt warm and good and scared all at once. Everything about him intoxicated her. His eyes, his smile, all the pent up memories she had of him.

  Memories. Only memories.

  Taycee gazed over his shoulder, avoiding those eyes that seemed to see right through her. Why did he have this effect on her? Why did she let him have this effect on her?

  “Looks like you’re having fun,” said Luke, his breath hot on her ear.

  “I am having fun.”

  “Even though you’re stuck dancing with me right now?”

  Taycee made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Those gorgeous, beautiful eyes that reeled her in like a fish that’d happily swallow any hook for a chance to be caught by him. “I was hoping you’d gotten rusty at Speed.”

  A moment of confusion gave way to a knowing smile. “That’s right. We used to play that game all the time, didn’t we?”

  Pathetic, that’s what Taycee was. Completely pathetic. Why? Because Speed had become one of her favorite games because of him. And he didn’t even remember.

  “You look good tonight,” said Luke.

  “Thanks.” Okay, so maybe that redeemed him a tad. A millimeter at most.

  “I still can’t get over the fact that you’re all grown up now. It’s so . . . weird.”

  And like Humpty Dumpty, down he went again. It would never change, would it? No matter what, Luke would always think of her as Caleb’s little sister. The nuisance. The girl who liked flowers and curly fries. The girl he could beat in cards.

  The spicy smell of his cologne invaded her senses once again.

  Please, someone save me.

  “How do you feel about sharing, Luke?” asked Jake. “I think I’ve earned a dance.”

  Taycee resisted the urge to throw her arms around Jake. This was twice now he’d come to her rescue, which proved that he was exactly the sort of person she should be paying attention to. And she would. Starting right now.

  Luke relinquished his hold on Taycee, and she stepped into Jake’s arms. Though not as tall as Luke, Jake was still tall. In fact, he was a good fit. His arms were warm and toned. His gait smooth. “So . . . you’re a California boy,” Taycee said. “Does that mean you surf?”

  “Nope.”

  “Beach volleyball?”

  “Occasionally.”

  “Red convertible?”

  “Never.”

  Taycee smiled. “Well, you’re tan at least.”

  He laughed. “That’s debatable, but I do like the outdoors.”

  “Me too.” She also liked Jake. Not only was he handsome and charming, but he was comfortable and helped Taycee forget about everything else. The staring eyes. The cameras. The red lights. Luke.

  Well, okay, almost everything else.

  As the night wore on, Jake became her wooden post to lean on. He stayed near her side. He made her laugh. He stood back when she talked to someone else, and then stepped in to cover any awkward pauses. He kept her at a safe distance from Sterling. He stared down Alec when things got uncomfortable. And anytime someone asked her for a dance, he’d pull out his trusty deck of cards.

  Luke, on the other hand, didn’t approach her the rest of the night.

  TWO DAYS AFTER THE OPENING NIGHT, the footage appeared on the website. Episode One, Jessa called it. Taycee typed in SheltersBachelorette.com, saw that it was there, and then immediately closed the browser without clicking play. The probability was high that if she ever watched any of the episodes, she’d never go back in front of the camera again. Seeing her picture on the site was bad enough.

  Business was slow, so Taycee spent most of her day organizing and de-cluttering. When an order of vases arrived that afternoon, she carried the box to her back room and placed one vase after another on the shelf with robotic-like movements. With nothing else to do, she straightened the rows, making all the vases uniform. There. Her mom would be so proud.

  Her fingers drummed on the counter as she looked around. What now? A bridal magazine sat in the corner, so Taycee grabbed it and flipped through it, tearing out a few pages picturing beautiful bouquets that caught her eye. She’d been keeping a scrapbook of all her favorites for years now with the hope that someday she would get the chance to do the flowers for a large, extravagant wedding. But right now, the dream of long flower garlands, boutonnières, centerpieces, and gorgeous bridal bouquets was just that: A dream.

  Sure, Taycee had done a few smaller weddings over the years, but nothing beyond a few simple bouquets and centerpieces. Those who could afford more impressive displays always went to the larger, more established floral companies in Denver. Someday, though, she’d make a name for herself in the wedding industry. She would.

  Bells jingled and Jessa’s voice rang out, “Tace, you here?”

  “In the back.”

  Jessa burst into the room, wearing several bracelets that clinked when she threw hear arms around Taycee. “I’ve been trying to call you all day! Did you watch it yet? Y
ou were awesome! Our traffic is through the roof, and we’ve already earned more on voting sales than even I had anticipated. It’s crazy!” Jessa let go and clapped her hands together gleefully. “I knew you’d make the perfect bachelorette. Or I should say ‘The Barefoot Cardshark.’”

  “The what?”

  “It’s the nickname people are calling you on the site.”

  “Oh.” Taycee didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed by that. It sounded . . . well, ridiculous. She shut the bridal magazine and pushed it back to the corner. “I’m really glad for the sake of the town, but honestly, Jess, I’m so nervous about it all. Going out with ten guys during the next two weeks seems so wrong and awkward to me. Knowing that everything I say and do will eventually be viewed by whoever wants to watch it on the internet makes it even worse.”

  The bracelets clinked again as Jessa hopped up on the counter. “You spent several hours in the same room with twenty-one guys and now you’re worried about ten individual dates? Pshh, you’ll be fine.”

  If only Taycee shared her confidence.

  “Speaking of which, who do you want the lucky ten to be?” Jessa said.

  “So long as it’s not Luke, I really don’t care.” But that wasn’t entirely true. Miles and Jake would probably be her top choices. Greg would be fine also. Sterling and Alec, her last—next to Luke, of course.

  “Sorry, girl, but Luke isn’t leaving anytime soon. Based on the voting and discussions going on so far, he’s one of the favorites. Jake’s up there as well. Why do you want him off anyway? You two looked like you got along just fine the other night.”

  “He was supposed to be un-charming and try to get voted off,” Taycee muttered.

  “He wasn’t.”

  “I noticed.”

  Jessa pursed her lips as she studied Taycee. “When you two danced, I’m telling you, sparks flew.”

  Sparks? As if. Maybe from Taycee, but definitely not from Luke. He was spark-less. For him, the highlight of the night had probably been driving Lumpy to The Barn and back. “It’s all an act, Jess. He likes to be contrary. I told him I hoped he’d get voted off, so he’s doing everything he can to stay on the show—exactly what he used to do when we were younger. It’s like he hasn’t matured at all in the last ten years.”