by Julie Benson
“You’re doing this for the money to pay for my treatment, aren’t you?” He wished she’d yelled at him. Her words, spoken in a low, tight voice, cut to the bone.
“That’s only an added bonus. I’m doing this to find a wife.”
“Griffin Ryan, do you really expect me to believe that pile of horse manure?”
Her use of his first and middle names indicated her irritation. One name meant she wasn’t too upset. Two, and things grew serious. At three he usually ducked for cover.
“Seeing Rory and Elizabeth so happy made me take a hard look at my life. It’s time I settled down.”
“I don’t want you doing this to get money for my medical bills.”
“I’m not.”
“Let’s say for the sake of argument that what you say is true. There are better ways to find a wife than dating a bunch of women on a TV show with the whole world watching.” For a moment a familiar sassiness filled his mother’s voice.
“Mom, you’ll have to trust me on this.”
“If you’re looking to get married, what’s wrong with the girls here?”
Sure, if he wanted a wife, that’s where he’d look, but this wasn’t about finding a wife. Being on the show was all about money. “I’ve known most of the women in Estes Park my whole life, and haven’t found anyone special. I took this director showing up as a sign that I should expand my horizons and meet some completely different women.”
“This is serious, Griffin. This will change your life forever.”
“My life could use a little shaking up.” That at least was true, and his mother didn’t need to know anything else. She had enough on her mind.
Who was he kidding? If he admitted he was going on TV only to earn the money for her treatments, she’d get mad, rattle off a lecture on misleading the women, and how nothing good could come of this because he was going in with the wrong intentions. Then he’d have to tell her he was doing the show anyway. “How’d it go in Portland?”
“Could be better. Could be worse. I’m still here to keep an eye on you, so things can’t be too bad.”
“Hang in there, Mom. You can beat this.”
“That’s the plan.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “You know I’ll support you however I can. All I want is for you to be happy.”
He wished he knew how to accomplish that.
The front doorbell chimed, the sound way too loud for nine in the morning. Griffin said goodbye to his mom and swallowed another swig of coffee, wishing he’d gotten the entire cup down before he met with Maggie. He walked across the marble foyer, plastered a smile on his face and opened the large maple door.
“How do you like the house?” Maggie, a briefcase in one hand, a brown paper sack in the other, her face glowing with annoying morning cheer, stood on his front step. Why had God created morning people? Probably as a punishment for night owls like him.
“Are you settling in? Are you comfortable? Is there anything you need?”
He motioned her inside. “Since you brought breakfast, you can come in, but Maggie girl, you’re gonna have to tone down the enthusiasm. I’m only on my first cup of coffee.”
“You’re not a morning person?” she asked as she set her briefcase on the floor, shrugged out of her wool coat and hung it on the coat tree.
“I like mornings just fine, but I like them quiet. The horses know better than to talk to me before ten.” He took the bag from her and peered inside. The scent of warm bagels drifted upward as he walked into the kitchen. “I hope there are chocolate chip ones.”
“I asked for an assortment,” Maggie said as she followed him.
After retrieving a plate from the cupboard, he dumped out the bag’s contents, grabbed a chocolate chip bagel and took a big bite.
Maggie joined him at the table, digging into her briefcase. “Here’s the bio on the bachelorette to replace the one you vetoed,” she said, handing him a plate.
Fortified with food and more coffee, Griff read the information, relieved to discover this woman, a fashion designer, suited his silence better than the single mom out to find a new daddy for her son. “She’s fine.”
Other questions spiraled through his brain. Why couldn’t the bachelorettes find a man on their own? His mind ran through a gamut of possibilities. Control freaks, overly needy, too possessive. He wondered what other baggage they brought with them.
“What makes a woman want to go on your show?”
Chapter Five
Maggie had wondered when Griffin would ask that question. All the previous bachelors did sooner or later. When she’d started with Finding Mrs. Right, she’d wondered the same thing and expected the bachelorettes to be more, well, like her. But who would tune in to watch a show with plain Janes? Gorgeous women made for sexier TV and higher ratings. And ratings ruled the world.
She longed to tell Griffin that the women who came on the show possessed a moral compass that didn’t point due north. Granted, some hoped to find love, but the majority wanted the TV exposure and fifteen minutes of fame. While everyone associated with the show acknowledged that, they didn’t broadcast the news. Viewers liked to think there was some reality in reality television.
How ironic that a show designed to find a wife for a bachelor rarely led to marriage, but would allow Maggie to have the children she’d always wanted.
Instead of telling Griffin the truth, she spouted the party line. “I know it’s hard to believe, but a lot of men don’t approach attractive women, because they fear rejection.”
“Any man who’s worth more than two cents wouldn’t be scared off because he might get shot down.”
“I agree.” A man’s confidence drew Maggie more than anything else. Good looks faded, but honor and self-assurance lasted. “While you and I may think that, studies tell us that most men do fear rejection.”
“There has to be more to it than these women just not getting asked out.”
Sure there was. Advancing an acting or modeling career, for example.
“It’s hard for women to meet a good man, one worth having a permanent relationship with. Careers, friends and families leave little time for socializing.” She’d learned that truth firsthand. “Finding Mrs. Right and online dating are examples of how hard it is to find a partner. Does that answer your question?”
“For now.”
She reached into her briefcase and pulled out her iPad and a large envelope. Once she’d retrieved the file containing her notes, she said, “We should go over a few things before taping starts. First of all, I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow for a photo shoot.”
“You do remember we’re doing TV, right?”
“We need stills for the website and publicity purposes.” Maggie slid the envelope across the table to Griffin. “Here’s the general plan and talking points for the first episode.”
“I knew reality shows weren’t real, but I didn’t know they were this tightly controlled.”
“Everyone’s reactions are real, and theoretically, everything that happens is, too. But how often does a couple get a private concert from a top-forty rock group? The shows should be called scripted reality TV.”
He withdrew the papers from the envelope and scanned them. Afterward, he neatly replaced them, and slid the packet back to her. “I don’t need dating pointers.”
“This has more to do with making good TV than your dating technique.” She pushed the packet back to him. “It includes topics that will engage and interest our viewers.”
“No one’s ever accused me of being boring.”
She bet they hadn’t, but reading the notes she’d put together would help him be better prepared. “Humor me. Keep the information and read it. I know this business well, but if you’re afraid to take advice from me, since I’m a woman, that’s okay. Studies indicate a lot of men have trouble working with a female boss because it undermines their self-confidence.”
She leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest and waited, suspecting Griffi
n’s ego couldn’t resist her challenge.
“I’ll look it over, but I’m going to handle the dates my way.”
Maggie bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. She’d learned something very important about Griffin and his ego. “I’ll give you the notes for the following week the day after the key ceremony.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask what that is.”
She explained how at the end of each episode the bachelorettes assembled in the mansion’s living room. Griffin called forward, one at a time, each woman he wanted to have continue. When she joined him, he revealed what he liked about her, and how he felt.
“Then you say she might hold the key to your heart, and ask if she’ll accept the key.”
Griffin burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding! There’s no way I can pull that off with a straight face.”
Maggie cringed at his open criticism. If the previous bachelors had similar opinions of the ceremony, they’d possessed enough manners to hide their disdain. “Then you better start practicing before a mirror, because the ceremony is nonnegotiable.”
He repeated the phrase, laughing every other word. “Do women really believe stuff like that?”
“They love grand gestures. We did market research on the subject.”
“What about the woman who doesn’t get called forward? Seems like it would be less painful to tell her up front rather than make her watch everyone else get invited to the party.”
Maggie, always the last one chosen for the team in phys ed class, knew exactly how the eliminated bachelorette felt. “Unfortunately, doing that wouldn’t have the same dramatic effect. After each name is called, a camera scans the remaining women’s faces for their reaction. The viewers are right there on the edge of their seats, wondering if you’ll call their favorite next.”
“I’m glad I’m on the other side of the ceremony.”
“You need to write a short welcome speech for the first episode. You don’t have to say anything earth-shattering. Previous bachelors have said how impressed they are by the women and that they look forward to getting to know them. This would also be a great time for you to share something about yourself.”
Maggie continued to explain that the women would arrive one at a time and Griffin would greet each candidate outside the bachelorettes’ mansion. After that, he’d join the women inside, make his speech and circulate around the room, getting acquainted.
“All this business talk is putting me to sleep.” Griffin reached into the brown bag, pulled out another bagel and stood. Then he walked out of the kitchen.
Not sure what else to do, Maggie trailed after him, something she seemed to be doing a lot. “Where are you going? We have more to discuss.”
He paused and looked over his shoulder at her. “I need to do something. Let’s play poker while we talk. For every hand I win, I get to ask you a question. For every hand you win, you get to talk shop.”
Maggie started to argue, but recognized the futility of doing so from his braced stance. Griffin was like a kindergartener with a five-minute attention span who’d been sitting for ten. “I don’t know how to play poker. We could play go fish.”
“That’s hardly a substitute.” He continued walking through the house. “How about blackjack? All you have to do is count to twenty-one.”
“If you’ve got questions about the show or the business, I’m happy to answer them.”
“Who said what I want to ask has anything to do with that?”
He couldn’t want to ask her personal questions. That made no sense. Why would he want to know anything about her or her empty life? Just the topic she wanted to discuss with a man whose social calendar hadn’t seen an opening since grade school.
“If you want to know about me, you’ll be disappointed. To say I live a boring life would be an understatement.”
“We could wander around the casinos and talk instead,” Griffin said as he crossed the threshold into the game room.
She would never hold his attention if they left the house, and she needed to ensure he was prepared for the first episode. “I’ll agree on one condition. When I win I get five minutes to talk business.”
“Deal.”
When Maggie entered the room, she froze. “Wow. A teenage boy would kill for a room like this.”
Four leather recliners faced a TV screen that practically filled the wall. Video game controls littered the couch to the left of the chairs. To the right was a pinball machine. On a raised area behind the recliners stood a poker table, and across from that, a wet bar.
Once they were seated at the table, Griffin picked up a deck of cards, shuffled and dealt.
Maggie frowned at her hand, a jack and a six. Too high to take another card, but not high enough for a good chance of winning. When Griffin asked if she wanted another card, she shook her head.
He flipped over his hand, revealing a queen and an eight. “I’ve got eighteen. What do you have?”
She tossed her cards onto the table. “Sixteen.”
“I win. You have to answer my question honestly.”
Maggie swallowed hard. The sly smile plastered on his face couldn’t be good news for her. “I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.” Unless I absolutely have to.
“I’m finally going to get the answer to something that’s been bothering me since we met.” His grin widened. “Why do you wear clothes that look like they belong on a seventy-year-old?”
To save money, her mother had sewed her clothes. Though they were better made than anything purchased in a store, the kids at school had known her outfits were homemade, and had teased her mercilessly. In high school, she’d gotten a part-time job and bought her own clothes in an attempt to be fashionable, but the teasing continued. Defeated, she’d given up and gone to the opposite extreme.
Under no circumstances would she share that history with Griffin. She’d never said she would tell him the whole truth. There was answering honestly and then there was being an open book. “I choose my clothes based on comfort.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “That’s not the real reason, and we both know it.”
“Too bad. You asked your question. I answered honestly. To get a follow up question you’ve got to win another hand.”
Hopefully by then I’ll have a better answer.
On the next round she took a card at fifteen and ended up with twenty-two.
“To follow up on my last question,” Griffin said with way too much enthusiasm, “I think there’s more to your clothing choice than comfort. I think you use them to hide. The question is why?”
“I want people to notice my ability and my intellect rather than my clothes and looks.”
“It’s not working. The first thing I noticed about you was your clothes, and not in a good way.” Griffin shook his head. “No, that’s not right. It was the second thing I noticed. The first was what a persistent pain in the ass you were.”
“I guess that’s something we have in common.” Maggie smiled to show she was half teasing. “I don’t have the time or money to spend on dressing in the latest fashion, and I hate shopping.” And the money she saved would go to fertility treatments.
“I thought a woman who didn’t like shopping was an urban myth,” he commented as he dealt the next hand.
When she won with a queen and a ten, she turned the discussion back to business. “One of our bachelorettes is going to wear her high school cheerleader outfit during the first few episodes.”
Again the melodic sound of Griffin’s laughter wrapped around her. When he calmed down enough to speak, he said, “Are you kidding? Why would she do that?”
“Some women like to do…” Maggie paused, searching for the right word. Insane, ridiculous, stupid…
“Weird?” he suggested.
“…unusual things to get a bachelor’s attention. They think it helps them stand out from the crowd. She came to us with the idea, and we thought it would be a great gimmi
ck. On the website, we’ll have viewers vote on whether or not they think the outfit will help or hurt her chances. It should make for great water cooler talk.”
“Any woman who needs attention that badly should be on Dr. Phil’s show, not yours.”
“If this doesn’t work out for her, maybe I’ll mention that.” Maggie leaned forward. “I shouldn’t tell you, but—”
He flashed the Boy Scout sign. “On my honor, I won’t say a word.”
“You were a Boy Scout?” She couldn’t see Griffin in a uniform, working toward badges. He didn’t seem the type to work that hard.
“For two whole years.”
“That long, huh?”
His gaze locked with hers, clear and open. “When I give my word, it means something.”
His voice, low and confident, worked its way inside her. Despite his charmer ways, she believed him to be a man of his word. “I thought the idea was odd, too.”
“Then why didn’t you tell her not to wear the cheerleader getup?” When Maggie didn’t answer, he continued. “Let me guess. Another decision from higher up?”
“It’ll make for good TV. Her being dressed like that will drive the other bachelorettes crazy. That means we’ll get good interview clips when we ask them about the issue.”
Griffin glanced at his watch. “Your time’s up.”
When he won the next hand, he asked, “What do your parents think of your job?”
Maggie froze. Her smile vanished.
Griffin had suggested the card game question session because he’d been bored. He figured he’d have some fun, get to know Maggie, and put her on the spot for a change. Rory always said he pushed the fun too far, until it wasn’t fun anymore. This time Griffin had opened his big mouth and shoved in both feet, judging by her hurt expression.
“Never mind.”
“I said I’d answer your questions.” Her gaze met his and her chin rose almost defiantly. “My mom was killed by a drunk driver two months before my graduation from NYU, and I haven’t talked to my father in years.”
Griffin thought of how much he missed his dad, but at least he still had his mother. He had Rory and Avery, too. Maggie had lost both parents. What had happened between her and her father to keep them apart?
