by Maria Geraci
But he was so much more than that. He was funny, smart, and kind. He loved his family and put their welfare above his own. He was everything she could ask for in a man. No matter what the future might hold, Annie could never regret giving them a chance.
Don went through a series of scripted prompts that Sam good-naturedly went along with.
How has the show changed your life?
Is there anything you have to say to Hannah?
And so on.
“It looks like they’re not going to mention the letter.” Charlotte took a sip of her wine.
Millie looked at Annie. “Lucky you.”
They focused their attention back to the screen. Don leaned forward like he was going in for the kill. “So, Sam, this is the moment America has been waiting for.” He paused for ultimate drama. “I’m happy to announce that the network has selected you for next season’s Single Guy!”
Balloons fell from the ceiling. The audience went wild with applause. The other bachelors jumped from their chairs to congratulate him, slapping him on the back and wishing him well.
“See?” Millie said. “That Kelly Seacrest is always right.”
After a couple of minutes of fanfare, Don urged everyone back to their seats. “I just realized that in all the excitement, we still haven’t heard your response. So, Sam, what do you say? Are you ready to become America’s next Single Guy?” He turned to the audience and winked playfully.
“That’s right. You haven’t heard my answer yet, have you?” Something in Sam’s tone made Annie sit straight up in her chair.
“Go ahead, Sam,” Don said smugly. “Don’t keep your fans waiting.”
“I’ve given this a lot of thought, but I’m going to have to say no to being the next Single Guy. I do appreciate the offer, though.”
The audience began murmuring in disbelief.
“Did Sam just say no to Don Carmichael?” sputtered Millie.
“I believe so,” Charlotte said, sounding as amazed as Annie suddenly felt.
Sam was turning down Single Guy.
Don laughed nervously. “This guy!” he said, pointing to Sam. “What a kidder!”
“I’m not kidding, Don.”
Don’s face slowly hardened as realization crept in. “You signed a contract.”
Sam reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “You mean this? I haven’t signed it yet.” He made a big show of tearing the contract in half. Don’s jaw fell to the floor.
The audience roared in confusion.
For a few seconds, no one knew what to do. Then a woman wearing a headset scrambled onto the stage and whispered in Don’s ear. He shook his head. She whispered back more forcefully, then scurried back off camera.
“Um, folks,” said Don, looking as if he’d just swallowed a toad, “it looks like we need to go to a commercial break. We’ll be right back with the Single Gal Reunion Special.”
Millie glanced at her phone. “Holy moly. Twitter is going crazy!”
Annie pulled out her phone and opened her Twitter app. The GasStationSam hashtag was trending number one.
Gas Station Sam says NO to Single Guy! #SingleGuy #GasStationSam #IwantSam
Don Carmichael’s face looks like an eggplant. #SingleGuy #GasStationSamRocks
Wait. I’m confused. Does this mean Gas Station Sam isn’t going to be the next Single Guy? I’m boycotting the show! #GasStationSamforpresident
Does anyone else think that this wasn’t planned? #livetvisthebest #IwanttohaveSam’sbaby
Millie passed her phone to Mom, who then passed it to Charlotte so they could look at the Tweets. “Look!” said Millie, pointing to the TV. “The show is back on.”
“We’re back live in our studio audience with Sam DeLuca, the man who’s taken America by storm,” said Don, who’d managed to regain his signature composure while on break. He paused, then looked into the camera to address the viewing audience. “What you’re about to see and hear is, without a doubt, the most dramatic moment in reality television dating history.”
The camera panned around the riveted audience. Two women in the front row nervously held hands as they awaited the big news. Another woman was chewing on her fingernails.
“While we were on commercial break,” Don continued, “we took a minute to speak to Sam. What we found out will shock you.”
Millie grabbed another handful of popcorn. “Oh no. What do you think it is?”
“Quiet,” Mom ordered. “Sam’s about to talk.”
“Well, it’s pretty simple, Don,” said Sam. “I can’t possibility be your next Single Guy because I’m already in a relationship with someone. It was wrong of me to lead the network on and let them think I’d do the show, but it was the only way I could ensure that you’d bring me down to talk on camera. Because what I have to say isn’t just for Annie. It’s for everyone else in her hometown of Old Explorer’s Bay too.”
Annie nearly fell out of the recliner.
Charlotte’s wineglass froze halfway to her lips.
Millie dropped popcorn all over the floor.
And if Mom’s eyes got any bigger, they’d pop out of their sockets.
“By the way,” Sam said, now addressing the studio audience, “you all know Annie because one of the show’s producers leaked some footage of the two of us when I was down in Florida last month and it aired on Good Morning, USA.”
The audience began shouting. “It’s the woman who wrote him the letter!”
“It’s Annie from Florida!”
“Sam! Are you in love with Annie?”
Don motioned to the audience to calm down. “Now, now, let the man talk. Sam, can you tell us more about this Annie?”
“Her name is Annie Esposito, and she lives in Old Explorer’s Bay, Florida. She saw me on Single Gal and wrote me a letter that changed my life.”
“No!” Don looked as if he’d never heard the story.
“What a big faker.” Millie began scooping up the fallen popcorn. “As if he and his show weren’t responsible for that producer that hounded Sam and took that footage at the bar.”
Pop and Frank Jr. wandered in from the kitchen. “What’s all the ruckus?’ asked Pop.
Frank Jr. nodded toward the television screen. “Hey, that’s Sam on the TV.” His gaze flew to Annie’s. “What’s going on? He’s not talking about that letter again, is he?”
“Hush,” said Mom. “Sam is turning down his own dating show because he’s in love with your sister.”
Charlotte sighed. “This is just about the most romantic thing ever.”
Annie’s heart felt like it was drilling its way out of her chest. “Calm down, everyone. No one said the word love.”
“So all this started with a letter? Let me ask,” said Don, “was it love at first write?” He chuckled at his own pun.
Sam paused. “Let’s say I was more intrigued than anything else.” He went on to tell the story about how Becks and his mother had picked Annie’s letter out of the hundreds he’d received and how he’d made a deal with his sister that had resulted with him going halfway across the country to meet Annie.
Millie waved her phone in the air. “The Twitter is going crazy again!”
“Bring Annie on!” yelled someone in the audience.
They began chanting. Annie-Annie-Annie!
“Looks like we’re going to have to bring on this Annie or face a riot. What do you say to that, Sam?”
Sam got quiet. “I say it’s up to Annie. I’m hoping she’s watching right now.”
“Do you have your cell phone on you, Sam?” Don asked.
Sam reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone. The same producer who’d come out earlier to whisper in Don’s ear slipped Sam a piece of paper.
“Text that number to Annie. It’s a direct line to our studio. We can FaceTime her right here and now. What do you say?” Don asked the audience. “Do you want to hear from Annie?”
The audience nearly lost it, clapping and scre
aming in approval.
Don turned to the camera. “Annie Esposito, if you’re watching the show, then please call in. America wants to hear from you!”
Annie’s phone buzzed. With a shaking hand, she swiped to find the number to the studio, along with the rest of Sam’s text. I’ll understand if you don’t call.
“Well?” Mom urged. “Are you going to call?”
“Oh God … Do I look okay?” But she was already punching in the number.
“Look!” Millie cried. “There’s Annie! On the TV.”
Annie looked up to see an image of herself on a large overhead screen visible to everyone sitting in the studio. The audience caught sight of her and began cheering.
“There you are!” said Don Carmichael. “Glad to have you join us, Annie.”
She waved to the audience. “Hi,” she squeaked.
Sam smiled at her. She gave him a wobbly smile back.
Don turned in his chair to face the screen. “So, Annie, Sam tells us that the two of you are in a relationship. Care to expound on that?”
“We’ve become pretty good friends over the last month,” she said.
“Friends?” Don said slyly. “That’s it?”
Annie felt her throat thicken. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sam spoke first. “The truth is,” said Sam, “I’m crazy about her.”
“I’m crazy about you too,” she blurted. “And I have some news. I’m moving to Dallas.”
Their gazes locked on the screen. Right now she and Sam might be three thousand miles apart, but Annie had never felt so close to anyone before in her life. “That’s what you were going to tell me tomorrow?” he asked.
Annie nodded.
Sam grinned and shook his head like he couldn’t quite believe his luck. He stood and unclipped his mic, then handed it to Don, who stared at it a moment like he wasn’t sure what was going on. “Where you are going?”
Sam leaned forward to talk into the mic piece, “Where do you think? I’m catching a plane to Florida to get my girl.”
The audience leapt to their feet to give Sam a standing ovation. A producer came running back on stage to whisper in Don’s ear again. He nodded, then turned to the cameras, grinning. “And they say reality TV dating doesn’t work. It might have started out a bit unconventionally, but it looks like we can chalk up another successful love story here at Single Gal! Make sure to tune in tomorrow bright and early to Good Morning, USA for an announcement on our next Single Guy!”
The camera panned back to the remaining bachelors, who waved to the TV audience, still milking their fifteen minutes of fame.
Millie raised her wineglass high in the air. “I do love a happy ending!”
“I guess this means you’re leaving the book club?” Charlotte asked, her eyes twinkling with happiness for her.
“I’m sure you can find someone else to take my place.” Annie put an arm around her mother’s shoulder. “You okay, Mom?”
Mom nodded and sniffled at the same time. “I’m just so happy for you, honey. I really am.”
Pop shrugged like he was embarrassed by all the female emotion taking place in his family room while Frank Jr. immediately saw the upside. “Tell Sam if he’s ever in the market for another car, I’ll be happy to give him the family discount.”
Annie’s cell phone pinged. It was a text from Sam.
Pick me up at the airport?
You bet, Cowboy.
So how’d you like tonight’s show?
She smiled as she punched in the letters.
Best. Dramatic. Moment. Ever.
I hope you enjoyed Sam and Annie’s story as much I enjoyed writing it! Undercover Bachelor is the first book in a new romantic comedy series, Undercover Matchmakers. Read on for a sneak peek at Chapter one of FLIRTING FOR AMATEURS, a full length novel and the next book in the series!
FLIRTING FOR AMATEURS
CHAPTER ONE
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by…
Kate Giles-Armitage looked at the flat tire in disgust. Here she was on a Wednesday night in north Florida, lost on a deserted road that could have been the backdrop to a Stephen King novel. If she wasn’t mauled by gators or lured into the surrounding woods by a sadistic looking clown, she was going to be blinded by all the frickin’ love bugs swirling in the air.
She wasn’t sure who she should blame for her current predicament: Robert Frost, Google Maps, or her seemingly never-ending need for caffeine.
Lured by a Starbucks coffee shop, a bursting bladder, and the poetic notion that the two-lane road would be a charming alternative to a hectic highway, she’d gotten of the I-95 Interstate one exit short of her destination. She’d caffeinated, peed, and rerouted her GPS, giving her the illusion that she could make it the rest of the way to Old Explorer’s Bay by nightfall. But if the past year had taught her anything, it was that she could handle this. A flat tire in the middle of nowhere? Piece of cake. That’s what Triple A was for.
She pulled her cell phone from her shorts pocket and dialed for roadside service, but the call instantly dropped. She dialed again. Same result. She shook her phone, not sure what that would do, but it made her feel better, even if just for a few seconds. Fantastic. No cell phone service.
It wasn’t enough that the humidity was hovering at ninety percent, or that Florida’s bi-yearly scourge—the dreaded love bug—was defying science and hanging on extra-long this season, now she had to change her own flat tire.
She swatted a couple of the bugs out of her hair. “Get a room, why don’t you?” she shouted at the amorous little pests.
As if mocking her, two more pairs of the tiny nymphos, entwined in perpetual coitus, flew past her nose. Yeah, yeah. The circle of life and all that jazz. The worst part was that those bugs were getting more nooky than Kate had had in the past year.
She took a deep breath. Okay. She could do this. Neil Giles-Armitage hadn’t been much of a father, but he’d made sure his only daughter could do three things: make a perfectly dry martini, understand the SMP 500, and change a flat tire.
The martini was the easiest of the three. Every night for the five years she’d been married she’d placed one in her husband’s hand as he’d walked through the front door upon coming home from work. Timothy Barrington, III, had liked his martini the same way he’d ended their marriage. Shaken, not stirred. The only one who’d been shaken, however, was her. He’d come out the other side of divorce court with every hair perfectly in place.
Reading the SMP 500 was a little harder but something she’d actually enjoyed—until she found out her parents had drained her trust fund. After that, why bother checking to see how much money she didn’t have anymore?
As for the flat tire, she’d changed one once, on her sixteenth birthday. It was the only stipulation her father had laid down before buying her the BMW.
“If you can’t change a tire you have no business driving a car, Princess.” Then he’d winked and added, “I should probably make you learn to change the oil too.”
Her mother had been horrified. “But, Neil, she’ll ruin her manicure!”
Being able to change a flat tire seemed like a good life skill, so Kate had accepted the challenge. It had taken her two hours, but she’d done it. But that was seventeen years ago. And changing a flat in a well-lit, air-conditioned garage (yes, the garage was air-conditioned because her father hadn’t wanted the south Florida humidity to ruin the paint job on his precious Bentley) was a far different animal from changing a flat in the dark on the side of the road.
As far as she could see, though, there was no other option.
She popped open the trunk. Four suitcases, a duffel bag, two totes filled with assorted household goods, and a camera case stared back at her. Hard to believe that this, plus one ninety-year-old abandoned house was now the sum total of all her worldly possessions.
Thank you, Timothy Barrington, III.
Ex-husband.
Lying sack of poo.
/> One day she’d look back at the past year and laugh. Today wasn’t that day. Today she had a flat tire and love bugs were doing the nasty in her hair. Time to get to work.
She pushed aside the luggage. Somewhere under all this mess there had to be a spare tire. Hauling the heavy suitcases out of the trunk, she tossed them onto the dusty ground. Sweat dripped off her back and down her legs. September in Florida, even at night, was still hot as hell.
Please let there be a flashlight in here.
She rummaged through the trunk to find not only a flashlight but the spare tire, a jack, and most importantly, a manual. Thank you, baby Jesus. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. A flat tire in the middle of nowhere? Things could be worse.
It could be raining.
Or …
She heard it first. The sound of another vehicle rumbling down the road. She spun around to see the lights of what looked like a pick-up truck coming straight at her.
This was the kind of worse she hadn’t wanted to contemplate.
Kate scrambled to grab her purse off the front seat of her car. It was in here somewhere…yes! She pulled out the pepper spray just as the truck rolled up behind her.
Please let it be a nice old couple offering to help me and not some crazy serial killer. Of course, just because a couple was old didn’t mean they weren’t serial killers too. She seen enough episodes of American Horror Story to back up that theory.
The truck door opened. Kate squinted, using the palm of her hand to shield her eyes from the truck lights.
“Need some help?” The voice was male. After a couple of seconds her vision adjusted to make out a man, mid-thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing steel toed boots, jeans, and a baseball cap with a Jacksonville Jaguars logo. The guy looked like he chopped lumbar for a living. From what she could see, no one else was in the truck with him.
Which meant she was now alone with a strange man in the middle of nowhere with no cell phone service. Worse just became a nightmare.
Kate tried to keep her voice from shaking. “Nope. I have everything under control. Thanks.”
