Test Drive (The Bachelor #1)

by Avonlea Cole

  -Drew"

  I hit the send button and turned my chair around to face the window. The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, and the other staff started to leave. I packed up my stuff and headed back down the long hallway to my father’s office.

  "Sir? Do you have a minute?"

  He nodded and motioned for me to come in but did not look away from his computer. "I finished setting up the meetings for you."

  "Good. Thank you." His gruff voice showed his distraction. "Is there something else?" His ice cold blue eyes darted over to me.

  "I wondered if you would allow me to sit in on the meetings with you. Maybe then I could get a feel for what needs to happen."

  "You would be interested in that?" He lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

  "Yes, father. I have noticed that my duties here are more like busy work, and I would prefer to take on a more important role if I need to be here every day."

  "Well yeah, son, you can add the meetings to your calendar, and I expect you to be there." He turned his attention back to the computer, and I showed myself out.

  I couldn’t remember my dad ever being this disconnected when I was a child. Of course his company had not exploded into what it is now until I was a teenager, and I spent most of my time away for college. I knew that I had disappointed him when my path didn’t lead directly to the pilot industry, but to be honest, heights scared the hell out of me. My dad couldn’t understand that I much preferred business and marketing to weather patterns and flight schedules. Not that he would ever let me handle that stuff anyway. My mother understood, at least. She had begged my father to retire and travel the world with her, but he couldn’t let it go.

  I had just sat down in the driver’s seat of my old, but fully restored, Nova when the phone rang. I checked the number, but it came up blocked. Normally that call would go to voicemail, but since it could be Sicily I answered.

  "Hi, this is Drew!" I tried to sound perky, but it came out as a yell over the roaring engine.

  "Hello, this is Sicily. Umm, you gave me your number so I thought I would call, but if you are busy, just forget it." I could barely understand her whispered words so I cut the engine off and apologized.

  "I’m sorry, my car is loud, and the echo in the parking garage would about deafen you. You said this is Sicily, right? I’m glad you called." She was quiet for a moment like she was immediately regretting making this phone call. "Sicily, are you still there?"

  "Yes, I’m here. What kind of car do you have?" She sounded as unsure as her picture looked, and I did my best to make her feel comfortable.

  I told her about my car and bits about the company I worked for, making sure to leave out the name. For over an hour, I sat in the garage talking with her about our likes and dislikes. She told me that she was a librarian, which was different than anyone I had ever dated. She was obviously into books and poetry. I couldn’t say I shared that interest, but I kept reminding myself that I wanted different.

  "Have you met a lot of people on this site? I am new to this, and I am not really sure how this works." I was being totally honest when I said that.

  "Umm sort of. I mean I have messaged with guys, but I haven’t made it to the date part. Either they lose interest or I find them creepy, but I read that you should know how you feel about someone in three dates."

  "Oh really?" I laughed. "I am intrigued, please explain what you mean."

  "Yes, I read once that you should meet first in public for dinner or coffee or something, and then the second the girl should pick the date, and the third the man should choose the date. Both should pick based on what kinds of things they enjoy, and by the end of the third date you should know where you stand." Her voice sounded like she read the words straight out of a fairytale.

  "I like that! Actually that is brilliant." And I just found my new motto. Who couldn’t survive three dates?

  I could hear the smile in her voice when she said, "Really?"

  "Yes, ma’am." I could hear a giggle escape from her mouth. "So how about it then? Wanna have date one?"

  "Um sure, when?" she said. She sounded so shy and quiet. I wanted to see that smile in person.

  "How about tonight?" I took a few breaths, and I could hear her withdraw from the phone. "Just for dinner. I give you my word that I am not a stalker, crazy person, or weirdo. Scout’s honor!"

  "Were you a boy scout?" she said.

  "Well no. But I do stand behind my word. How about this? You pick the place and time. I will get there early, and you can check me out. If you don’t like what you see, you can leave, and I will understand."

  "All right, I guess. Um, eight thirty at Nina’s Pizza on Main Street?" Her voice still didn’t sound certain, but I guess it could be risky meeting a stranger for the first time.

  "I have never been there before. That’s perfect, I will be there. Talk to you soon." We said our goodbyes, and I fired up the engine. According to my navigation system the restaurant was almost an hour away, and I still had to get home to change.

  I ENTERED THE RESTAURANT and scanned the crowded room for her face. I was early as promised, but the front entryway was swarming with people. I pushed through and waited at the front desk for someone to lead me to a table. I felt overdressed in my khaki pants and Italian Cashmere sweater. I hadn’t realized that the restaurant might not be four stars, but the food smelled amazing. I could practically taste the oozing cheese and the lightly roasted toppings from halfway across the room.

  I stood there like an idiot waiting for someone to seat me until a waitress pointed to the sign that read: "Please seat yourself." I was glad at that moment that I had arrived early before she could see me struggle to find a booth on my own. A waitress finally rescued me and showed me to a table in the back of the restaurant. I told her I was waiting for someone, and she disappeared into the crowd.

  I looked around studying all the decorations that lined the wall. Several pizza relics, some football jerseys, and a huge poster showing all the toppings you could ever think of putting on a pizza. I checked out the menu to see what my options were, smirking as I noticed all the pizzas were named after cities in America and several countries around the world. There was a sign at the bottom boasting the no silverware rule. I looked around to see how that was working out for the customers trying to slide the mounds of toppings in their mouths with no silverware to catch it. The customers at the surrounding tables all had napkins stuffed down their shirts, and they were rolling and folding their pizzas to keep it all in.

  I glanced up at the entrance just in time to see a petite brunette squeeze through the crowd. She was wearing a knee-length purple floral dress with a long-sleeved gray sweater. She wore black flats exposing her lily white legs. I couldn’t tell through the dark rimmed glasses if the shy beauty was in fact Sicily, but when her face turned red as she scanned the room I knew it must be her. She was pretty, not gorgeous, but definitely cute. I waved her over, and she looked down at her feet like she was trying to convince herself to go through with the date.

  I stood as she approached our table. "Sicily, right? I’m Drew. It’s nice to meet you."

  I reached to shake her hand, and she extended her hand slowly. I had thought about kissing her hand, like a gentleman of course, but decided against it. She looked petrified, in total disbelief over the fact she was here. I couldn’t pinpoint whether that was a good or a bad sign.

  "So have you been here before?" I asked trying to break the awkward silence.

  "Yes, many times. They have great pizza." She made eye contact when she spoke but then went right back to the menu hiding her light brown eyes.

  "Wonderful! What do you usually get?" I clasped my hands together on top of the menu giving her my full attention.

  "Well, normally I get the Kitchen Sink Pizza." I was shocked. I looked down at the menu and read off literally every ingredient they had.

  "Wow, that must be a huge pizza. And you eat that yourself?"

  "You can buy it by
the slice, and I can normally eat two." She was smiling now at least. I hoped that she would break out of her shell a bit. I was not used to having to lead the conversation. Usually I was the one with the short answers.

  The menu offered a variety sampler, The Tour of America, and it came with eight different slices. I couldn’t deny that my appetite had built up thinking about the gobs of cheese I was about to inhale. Our food was delivered, and I continued to force the conversation. She was responding, but I could tell she was either very nervous or very uninterested. This strain made it difficult for me to get to know her, or maybe this was her. I couldn't imagine this being an everyday struggle, but she was sweet and smart, and I wanted to find out if she could be bold too.

  She pushed her square black glasses farther up her nose and bit into her folded Philly style pizza. I watched the thick mozzarella cheese stretch down her chin. She quickly scooped up the cheese and twisted it into her mouth. Her thin lips curved into a quiet smile. I knew my staring was making her uncomfortable, but watching her cheeks flush and her eyes dart away was kind of sexy.

  "Well, this place is awesome. I will definitely be back, although it’s gonna take me a year to try all of the different pizzas." I laughed, stretching my arm across the booth. "We should do this again sometime."

  "Yeah, I will call you. It’s going to be a busy week at the library, but I’ll be in touch." She quickly reached for her purse as the waitress dropped off the ticket.

  "No, please." I stuck out my hand snatching away the receipt. "Allow me."

  She only nodded in response and quickly stood from her seat. "I hate to rush off, but it’s been a long day. It was a pleasure meeting you, Drew. Safe travels."

  I swallowed the urge to call bullshit as she spoke.

  It was around nine forty-five, and the party boy in me wanted to point out that the night wasn't even close to over, but she had to work the next day, and so did I. I briefly remembered my dad's warning. She thanked me and repeated her statement that she'd be in touch. She didn't wait for me to follow her out, and I didn't want to push into her comfort zone.

  I was certain I’d blown it. I dropped a hundred dollar bill on the table and told the stunned waitress to keep the change. She quickly wrapped her arms around me; her swishing ponytail splashing the strawberry scented shampoo in my face. Briefly. Briefly, I thought about whether I could take her home instead. I could use a pick me up.

  I no longer recognized the guy I was becoming. The old me wouldn’t have blinked about possibly taking a hot waitress out for drinks or something a little hotter. The drive home was full of uncertainty. I wondered if maybe I was not her type or maybe I am not anyone’s type. I was almost positive my last string of girlfriends were only interested in my money, and now with the girls not knowing, what if they weren't interested at all? It was a sobering feeling; one that I wasn't willing to linger on.

  I pulled into the garage and parked the car giving the engine one last rev before shutting it off. I laid my head on the steering wheel feeling both exhausted and disappointed. The date with Sicily had gone okay, but I had no idea what she was thinking.

  I wanted to be on time to work so I headed straight to bed. I didn't immediately fall asleep, and instead I decided to check my email one last time for any other responses. None!

  Great, I thought, perfect ending to a rough day. I cranked up the wave machine next to my bed and drifted to sleep picturing myself in a better place.

  The alarm came too early the next morning, but I forced myself to get up. By the time I walked through the doors at work, I felt totally refreshed. The other employees stared in disbelief when I rushed right to my mailbox in search of work to do. I came in today hoping to prove myself and well, to take my mind off my failing love life. I was starting to wonder whether I was cut out for this type of relationship or if I should stick with the mindless gold diggers? They did cater to my every whim—as long I paid for theirs.

  No. I didn’t want that anymore.

  I sat down at my computer, and against my better judgment, I checked the inbox. This time there were two messages. My sullen mood picked up only to crash and burn. The first email was a response from Amelia, the book editor, and she replied with "Thank you for your inquiry, Drew, but I have recently moved to New York and just haven’t updated my profile. Good luck!"

  Wow, I thought, my batting average was tumbling and if things didn’t pick up who knows how desperate I’d get? Email two was a response from Jenna, the yoga chick. I read her three sentence long reply. "Hey Drew! I’d love to get to know you better. Want to meet sometime?"

  "I’d like to take you skiing, and I’d definitely like to see you . . .” I said aloud.

  "Oh really, son, I didn’t think you could handle the heights?" My father’s voice boomed into my office causing me to almost choke on the words coming out next.

  "Uh, father!" I desperately clicked out of the message and mindlessly stacked some papers on my desk. "What can I do for you?"

  "Well, I can see you are here this morning . . . although who knows what you are working on? No matter. I wanted to know if you would be interested in coming to the board meeting this morning? We will be discussing employee benefits and some complaints from the staff."

  "Sure! I’d love to. Where is the meeting being held?"

  "It’ll be in the conference room next to my office, and it starts at ten sharp." His no nonsense personality had always put me on edge. He had gotten rigid in his old age; well, I guess it started when the company took off. I no longer knew the man who came to all my baseball games and award ceremonies. He had even missed my college graduation because of a last minute flight issue with an important client.

  I checked the clock; it was nine fifty. I quickly pulled the message up and sent a quick note back to Jenna. I listed my personal cell number and said she could call or text about where or when to meet. I grabbed a notepad and headed down the hall. I had never sat in on the meetings, so I had no idea how awesomely . . . boring it would turn out to be.

  Two hours of my life that I would never get back. My stomach rumbled, and my fingers itched to slip the phone out of my pocket to look at anything, even just the deserted island screensaver. "Son, what do you think of the employee complaints? Do you think that we should accommodate their requests?"

  Busted! What do I say? How could I answer a question I hadn’t really heard? "I think that without the employees, this place could not run effectively so if there is something we could do to make their time here easier, then I say yes."

  The bullshit I had just spewed out of my mouth seemed to have surprised the old man. "It sounds like you should handle the task. I want to appoint you to handle the rest of the employee evaluations, and you can manage their requests and see the process through. All right, gentleman, have a good lunch!"

  Whoa, whoa! What had I just signed up for? I regretted zoning out the entire meeting. I should have given them a strict "No" and continued about my day. Bob, the employee benefits director, reluctantly dropped off the heaping pile of employee evaluations. He gave me a sad nod as he exited. I could tell he had no confidence in my ability to see this through.

  I just read the top evaluation, which listed that there should be a machine with feminine products in each of the women’s bathrooms. Great. This was bound to be excruciating.

  I headed back to my office with the pile of complaints and slapped them down on the desk. Well at least I’d have something to keep me busy. I thought about Sicily’s sweet smile from the night before. I tried to keep her polite personality in mind as I began reading through the outrageous complaints. They got worse. Everything from office supplies to a massage machine to put on the back of the chairs? I was beginning to feel like the employees were making this shit up just to be rude. I had been given control over this project, and I intended to weed out the ones that were too out there.

  Jenna had asked me to join her for lunch at a local farmers’ market. My morning had been spent doing—I kid
you not—interviews with employees to figure out some kind of solution to their needs. Just shoot me now if I have to hear one more woman complain about her "sudden, without warning, heavy flow." Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't want to take their place for a minute. I had just not expected so much graphic detail poured into my brain like cement, giving me a full picture of the emergency. Another surprising detail was that apparently all the women felt the same way, which left me no other solution than to check on the cost of such an addition to our ladies’ room.

  My escape to lunch was well deserved. I only wished I could drum up some sort of appetite. I entered the farmers’ market just in time to see Jenna ordering a salad from the deli. Her long hair was in a ponytail today and even then, it stretched way down her back. I stopped inside the door to admire the view before making my way to join her. I could only see her profile, but her dark blue yoga pants and white tank top showed everything I wanted to see. Her toned body and supple assets were mouthwatering and even from the side her smile was inviting. I strode up to the counter and introduced myself.

  "Jenna? Hi, I am Drew; it's nice to meet you." I extended my hand, and she gripped it, rather tightly I might add.

  "Oh wow, thanks for meeting me today. Sorry about my wardrobe, I was teaching a class at the gym, and I didn't have a chance to change. Please join me." She motioned to a table in the corner, and I said I'd be there shortly. I barely managed to breathe when she walked away. The tight pants formed to her every curve. Women shouldn't do that to men, I thought.

  She took her seat at the small café table, and I snapped out of my trance. I ordered a chocolate-banana smoothie and made my way to our table. "This place is delish, right?" she said, dumping the container of granola onto her strawberry pecan salad. She didn't use any salad dressing, which struck me as odd, and instead squeezed a half of lemon over the kale leaves.