My Bachelor

by Tess Oliver

  “Is he—”

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “That’s all you’re going to get out of me, and consider even that little morsel a gift.”

  Her shoulders drooped some in disappointment but then her usual smile returned. “You’re right, Eli. Shame on me for bugging you about it. It’s just that he’s so—”

  “Yep, that he is.”

  She laughed. “You didn’t let me finish.”

  I put my arm around her shoulder as we headed out to the bar. “I didn’t need to. I could just imagine the adjectives you were thinking about by the twinkle in your eyes. Let’s go serve those drinks and hope that the divorce came with a generous settlement that will help fill our apron pockets with tips.”

  The main room was already vibrating with music from the jukebox and after-work conversations from the patrons sitting around the tables and perched on barstools. The night would go fast with such a big crowd. Busy was better than slow. I could keep my second wind going as long as there were a lot of people to serve. Otherwise, the moment I slowed my pace, my body would ache for some down time. I was still fretting about not getting any studying done before tomorrow’s class. It meant I’d have to be awake before the sun to catch up. I needed to learn to say no to Rafe, but he was a hard man to turn away from. And as strong and confident as he looked, I could tell that this bachelor show was not for him.

  Sometimes Simone and I were so busy, we didn’t even cross paths at home. We’d only talked through texts and those had just been about the overdue electric bill. She spotted me as I walked to the counter to pick up the party order. She hurried across the room carrying a tray filled with empty glasses. “Don’t forget you’re taking my shift tomorrow night, El. I’ve already switched our names on the roster.”

  “Right. Tomorrow night.”

  I began placing the beers and glasses of wine on my tray. Just like Ruthie had done, Simone hovered nearby with an expectant look on her face.

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  “So?”

  I stopped and blinked in confusion at her. “So?”

  “I know it’s top secret, but what’s he like? I suppose he’s a complete asshole. Guys who look like that always are.” So far all the fans had seen was night one of the meet and greet event. The heroic event on horseback wouldn’t air until the weekend with a special two hour event, and I was already getting grilled about the bachelor. Last season, most of my friends and coworkers had hardly remembered that I worked for the show.

  “Simone, you know I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

  “He’s a jerk. I knew it,” she said confidently as she removed the dirty glasses from her tray.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Her eyes popped up. “Ah ha, so he’s not. I knew it.”

  “You just said the opposite.”

  “Yeah, I did that to get you to talk.” She winked. “Maybe I should go into law school after all. Besides, I had an inside track on his personality. Ursula and Hannah claim that he used to come in here to have beers. They said he was a real nice guy and just as amazing in person as on screen.”

  “Great, then I can forgo any more interrogation from my coworkers. You won’t get another word from me on the subject unless I talk in my sleep, and I haven’t done that since I was ten years old.” I zipped my lips and picked up the tray.

  “I’m just glad he’s not a jerk,” she called loudly enough to get the attention of two of our coworkers. Hannah and Kate both nearly knocked each other down in their attempt to circle me.

  “Uh, heavy tray, guys,” I said as I tried to maneuver around them.

  “You’re talking about the bachelor, aren’t you?” Hannah shot a smug grin at Kate. “Told you so.” She turned back to me as I attempted to move past them. “We used to call him Outlaw on account of the tattoo on his arm.” She motioned toward Kate with her head. “Eliot can confirm that he has it written on the side of his arm.”

  “Not confirming anything. You’ll just have to watch the show.” I took a gap between several customers lingering in front of the counter. Footsteps trotted along the wood floor behind me. Hannah came up next to me. “Remember that girl, Mia, who used to work here? She quit just a few months after you were hired.”

  I kept moving forward with my heavy tray and she kept up, as if I had an interest in the conversation. I sighed loudly, but she didn’t get the hint. “Yes, Mia, with the size twenty three waist, as she liked to tell everyone she met. I remember her. Since you’re following me, grab a pile of napkins off that table, would ya?”

  She took a detour past the empty table, swept up a pile of napkins and caught back up to me. “Well, she and this server named Patty used to fight over that man. Almost came to blows once in the backroom. Ursula had to step in and stop the fight.”

  “Maybe he was a great tipper,” I suggested cheerily.

  She laughed. “Oh, that he was, and more. The man’s a player, left, right and everywhere in between. Should be an interesting show this season.” Hannah had followed me all the way to the back room but stopped short of helping me get my heavy tray to the table.

  I glanced back over my shoulder. She was already scurrying back through the crowded bar. I quickly brushed off her words. It was silly, but I didn’t want to think of Rafe as a player, a guy who couldn’t commit to anything but a good time. He seemed so much deeper than that. But then he probably only showed that confident, thoughtful side to safe women. Female chums, like me. God, I was learning to hate that four letter word chum.

  It was going to be a long night. In fact, something told me it was going to be a long two months. And in the midst of it all, I had to keep my own feelings about America’s newest bachelor in check.

  I was relieved to leave behind my curious coworkers and serve drinks in the back room, a space that we kept open for large groups. The women were already in full party mode when I walked in. They’d even brought gifts for the new divorcee, who looked as if she was ready to float away on a cloud of happiness. The tray of drinks made them that much louder. Ruthie had taken the time to drop a pink napkin in front of the women who’d ordered wine and a green one in front of the ones who were drinking beer.

  I lowered my tray onto the side table and began handing out the drinks.

  “Oh my gosh,” one of the women blurted suddenly over the rim of her wine glass, “who here is watching Sealed with a Kiss?”

  A round of squeals made their way back and forth across the table. “Rafe Rockclyffe,” a woman cheered as I set a beer down in front of her. “That’s his name. I’m thinking about getting it tattooed on my ass.” Laughter shook the room.

  “Hey, Barbara, too bad your divorce didn’t come sooner. You could have tried out for the show,” one of the women suggested between sips of wine. “He’s a damn sight better than your ex.”

  Barbara, the guest of honor, laughed. “A damn sight better? Hell, James isn’t even in the same species as the bachelor—what’s his name? Rafe? Even his name makes me horny.” They lifted their glasses in a toast to the new bachelor.

  I picked up my empty tray and walked out to serve my other tables. I couldn’t keep from smiling. Rafe Rockclyffe. The poor guy had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

  My phone vibrated in my apron pocket. Ursula, being the kind boss she was, had allowed me to keep my phone with me. She knew my sister was in a wheelchair and that my mom wasn’t exactly a kickass caretaker. I put down the tray and pulled the phone discretely from my pocket. It was Jackson. He knew I was working, so it was strange for him to be calling. I dashed into the back supply closet and answered.

  “Hey, I’m working. What’s up?”

  “That’s what I was going to ask you.”

  “No time for puzzles, Jackson. You called. Why? And make it fast.”

  “Yeah, y
eah fast. That’s your only mode, sweetie. Fast. Anyhow, I got a call from Leo in security. He said the boss, the man boss, not the lady boss, asked for him to stay on late tonight as if he had some kind of premonition that something might happen up at the bachelor’s house.”

  I shuffled through the office supply shelf for a new order pad. “O.K. and what should I do with that information?”

  Jackson grunted. “Well, what do you think? You’re the one who left the bachelor house after your work hours. I thought maybe our bachelor was hatching some kind of plan. I heard rumors Doug was complaining that there wasn’t nearly enough heat on set. You’ve got the inside scoop being the bachelor’s butler. Is it true? Did Doug tell him to make something censor-worthy happen?”

  “I have no scoop other than our bachelor is feeling a little lost. Rafe was nice enough to allow me to hang out there because it’s closer to Sparky’s than my apartment. How do you know I left late?”

  He huffed in annoyance. “I told you, I was talking to Leo. He saw you drive out of there just after seven and just before Doug drove up to the house to talk to Rafe.”

  I heard Ursula’s deep voice roll down the hallway. She was heading to the closet. I picked up a new order pad.

  “Doug drove past me but I didn’t know he was visiting Rafe.” The door to the supply room creaked. “I’ve got to go, Jackson.” I hung up and shoved the phone in my pocket. I held the new order pad up triumphantly as if it took me hours to find one and slipped past Ursula.

  “How do you like Outlaw? Mr. Rockclyffe?” she asked quickly.

  “No real opinion, Ursula,” I replied with a wink. “It’s just my day job.” I walked back down the hallway and into the crowded bar. I had no idea why Doug had decided to drive up and see Rafe. It wasn’t something Doug did often. I wondered briefly if I would be in trouble for staying late, but I brushed that off. It wasn’t unheard of for the bachelor’s assistant to stay late. But his request that the head of security and house camera crew stayed on late was unusual. Jackson was right. Something was up.

  Chapter 12

  Rafe

  I stepped out of the shower and pulled on my jeans. The four mile run down to the main road and back uphill to the estate had helped clear my head. The unexpected visit from the director had put me in a dark mood, and I’d needed to blow off some steam. I’d already memorized the pattern and positioning of the outside security cameras and easily found a way past them without being seen. Technological invisibility cloak was what we’d called it in the army. There were enough blind spots and pauses in the studio’s camera system to make it clear around to the back of the house and over the fence to the back road without notice. It had felt fucking awesome to be away from the mess I’d fallen into.

  I’d spent weeks undercover, hiding in caves and sleeping in crevices along the Afghan landscape, but the walls of the bachelor’s house were closing in on me fast. And it had nothing to do with the house itself.

  I walked out to the kitchen and pulled a beer from the refrigerator. I returned to the front room with my beer, dropped onto the couch and picked up the remote. In my training, I’d learned to detect even the slightest changes in sound. A whirring sound, light as a feather dragging over cement, alerted me that the outside cameras were moving, as if following someone or something across the yard.

  On the front stoop, a shuffling sound was followed by a giggle. I stood up from the couch and opened the front door. I was slowly starting to put names to faces. Shyla, who’d made an impression on me the first night by nearly crawling into my lap during our private conversation, was standing on the front porch with her hand resting against one of the posts. She had on a short top that stopped just below her breasts and a pair of shorts that were only several inches wide from waistband to hem. A diamond sparkled in a belly button that was surrounded by a flowery tattoo.

  She took one step and faltered, confirming what I’d already deduced. She was very drunk and the porch post was the only thing holding her up.

  I grabbed her hand as she stumbled forward and I helped her inside. “Shyla, what are you up to?”

  She laughed. “Why, I’m here to see you, silly.” She used her unsteadiness to her advantage and fell against me. Overhead, the ceiling cameras beeped as they turned on. It seemed the director didn’t trust my word, and he’d decided to get things moving faster. And of all the women, Shyla was the one Doug had told me I should keep on the show. At the time, I figured it was because she was a big drinker and someone who might start some drama. But now it seemed she was part of his team, a pretty woman planted on the show to stir up trouble and scandal.

  “Who sent you over here?” I brushed a dark strand of hair off her face and took the time to finish the gesture with a light rub of my thumb across her bottom lip. Her breath was rich with the smell of booze. Her long lashes fluttered down, and for a second, I was sure she’d pass out in my arms but then she opened her eyes.

  “No one sent me.” She returned the touch by pressing her fingers against my mouth. “And do not tell anyone I was here. The other girls will be pissed.” She giggled, and the movement that came with it made her head loll back as if it was filled with sand. She threw her arms around my neck and pressed her mouth clumsily against mine.

  Shyla’s body rubbed against mine, and her hand went straight to my fly. Her fingers trailed the outline of my cock as she kissed me. “If this is what they want, darlin’, then what the fuck,” I muttered against her lips.

  I took hold of her waist and pushed her up against the wall, in just the right angle from the camera. I had no idea how much they could get away with on a prime time television show, but that wasn’t going to be my problem. Doug had left a bitter enough taste in my mouth about the whole fucking show that I just didn’t give a damn. And Shyla was obviously being paid extra to boost the ratings.

  Her arms stayed wrapped around my neck as I reached between us and slipped my hands beneath her short top. She hadn’t bothered with a bra, which wasn’t a big surprise.

  I lifted the shirt and lowered my face to her breasts.

  She tangled her fingers in my hair. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe this hair, Rafe. I can’t believe I’m standing here with you.” She arched her back and pushed her nipple hard against my roving tongue and, oddly enough, she continued her conversation. “I figured I’d never have a shot with you. So many pretty girls in that house. That’s why I took this chance. I needed some time alone to prove that I was the right woman for you.”

  I lifted my face but continued to tease her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. She was good. I actually almost believed that she was here as a legitimate contestant.

  She reached for the button on my fly. “Take me, Rafe. Take me now.”

  “Even the script is original,” I quipped.

  As drunk as she appeared to be, my comment seemed to sober her up. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s all right.” I lowered my mouth to her ear so the audio couldn’t be heard. “I know Doug sent you over here.”

  Her hands fell to her sides. I could feel her body tense between me and the wall. I looked at her face. Her eyes were glassy as if she was on the verge of crying. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I snuck out hoping I’d get a chance to be alone with you.”

  Her words were genuine. It seemed she had no idea that we were being filmed. She threw her arms around my neck again. “I’m in love with you, Rafe. Almost from the instant I met you.” She reached down to remove her shorts, but I took hold of her hands. The tears I noticed earlier fell.

  “We’re on camera, Shyla.” I pointed up to the corner of the ceiling.

  Her face paled as she looked up at the blinking light. She swayed forward. I caught her and held her steady. She turned her face toward my shoulder, and her body shook with sobs. “I thought they were only filming us at the hous
e,” she said between shuddering breaths. “I just wanted to be near you. The girls are going to kill me when they see this.” She peered up at me with sad eyes. I felt like a complete ass, just like the jerk the director wanted me to be. But he could fuck himself. I was going to be myself on camera. Just like Eliot had advised.

  “It’s all right, Shyla. I’m glad you came by. By the way, you’re one hell of a kisser.”

  Her sweet smile returned. “Yeah? Well, you’re not too bad yourself.”

  “Let’s get you back to the house.” I held her arm with one hand and opened the front door with the other. Another surprise. Peyton was standing on the front stoop dressed in a slinky, short dress, looking as if she was on her way to a dance club. Or on her way to seduce the bachelor next door. But her practiced sultry gaze turned cold and harsh when a tottering Shyla stepped around the door and into view.

  “Shyla,” she snapped, “you’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Are you?” I asked.

  Peyton fidgeted on her pink high heels, and her silky dress shimmered under the porch light. Shyla looked anguished by the whole thing, but Peyton looked angered, as if some long thought out plan had been spoiled. It seemed I’d just discovered the mole on the Sealed with a Kiss set.

  “Well, ladies, this has been an interesting night. Shyla was out for a walk and lost her way. She’s had a little too much to drink. I was just about to walk her back home, but if you don’t mind, Peyton, I’ll just send her back with you. And, as you well know”—I looked pointedly at her—“the cameras are rolling out there. So be nice.” I ushered a reluctant Shyla out the door and closed it before Peyton had a chance to respond.

  Chapter 13

  Eliot

  “Where the hell are you?”

  Jackson’s urgent sounding text came through just as I parked my car. I grabbed my backpack and climbed out.