Finding Mr. Right Now

by Meg Benjamin

  He stepped inside, to the surprise of the hostess. “We’re closed for the evening, sir,” she mumbled. “Sorry.”

  He nodded. “I know. We’re missing a member of the television crew. I wondered if you’d seen her—about five seven or so, light brownish hair, probably carrying a clipboard.”

  The hostess shrugged. “They all went down on the gondola a half hour or so ago. She wouldn’t still be here.”

  “Apparently, she is.”

  The hostess frowned, moving from behind her desk. “I’ll tell Mr. Brooks, the manager. We shut everything down when we leave for the night.”

  As she walked toward the rear of the restaurant, Paul turned back toward the slopes again.

  Moonlight cast a muted glow across the flat area at the top where the skiers would gather before heading down for a run. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Monica,” he called.

  The only thing he heard in reply was the rattle of the wind in the aspen leaves.

  Monica told herself she wasn’t frightened. She wasn’t. Not exactly anyway. She could see the lights of the restaurant, she just couldn’t manage to find her way back to them. A walk in the moonlight had seemed like a great idea at the time. Now, not so much.

  She’d spent the evening running errands to keep Glenn happy and bringing tidbits to keep Ronnie happy. Billy Joe had also been keeping Ronnie happy, given the amount of champagne they’d consumed. At least the restaurant manager had been ecstatic at the bill they were running up, although Glenn had looked like he was developing a new ulcer.

  When the crew had started to pack up the equipment, she’d decided to walk along the top of the slopes again for a little while. She knew how long it took to get everything stowed away and ready to go. She figured she’d have lots of time to walk around a bit and see the slopes by moonlight.

  She wasn’t sure when or how she’d managed to take a wrong turn, but now she was deep in a pine forest, trying to find a way out without breaking her neck or taking a tumble down the ski slope. The lights of the restaurant glowed on the horizon. She couldn’t be more than a few hundred feet away, but it felt like miles.

  She put a hand on a nearby tree trunk, pausing to catch her breath. Sooner or later, they’d close down the gondola. She knew that. But they had to get the restaurant crew down first, so she still had time. Her heart thudded in her chest, reminding her that she was at a higher altitude than she’d been before.

  Of course, her rapidly increasing pulse rate wasn’t entirely the result of the altitude. You’ll be okay. Even if they close down the gondola, you can just wait until morning. That was undoubtedly true. On the other hand, the thought of spending the night on the mountaintop didn’t exactly fill her with confidence. Just because she hadn’t seen any bears yet didn’t mean they weren’t up here.

  She took another step toward where she thought the ski slope started, then paused, trying to get her bearings. She could have sworn she heard somebody calling her name. “Hello?” she called back.

  After a long moment that she spent leaning forward and trying to hear someone moving around nearby, the call came again. “Monica?”

  “I’m here,” she called. “I’m stuck in this damn forest. Call to me so I can come to you.”

  “How about if I come to you instead?”

  The voice was close enough to recognize now. “Paul?”

  “Who else would be up on top of a mountain in the middle of the night looking for you?” He didn’t sound like he was enjoying the experience all that much. She heard footsteps crunching through the brush at the side of the slope.

  Of course, she wasn’t enjoying the experience all that much either. “Okay, just talk to me. I’m stuck in this bunch of trees and I’m trying to find my way out. I’ll listen to your voice.”

  “Here.” Paul’s arm reached between the trees, his hand fastening on her elbow. “Come on.”

  A moment later she was standing in the moonlight in front of him, the restaurant lights gleaming on the slope above them. She’d been wishing he was there earlier in the evening. Now that he was, she wasn’t so sure she wanted him. Judging from his expression, he was pissed.

  “What were you thinking—wandering off like that? You could have been up here all night. Hell, if you’d kept walking, you could have gotten yourself so thoroughly lost they’d have had to send Search and Rescue after you.” His eyes looked very dark, not just from the moonlight, apparently.

  “I went for a walk,” she said stiffly. “I took a wrong turn, but I wasn’t lost. I could see the restaurant lights above me. I was working my way back.”

  He didn’t look any happier. “And if they’d closed down the gondola?”

  “So what?” She raised her chin. “I’d have sat on the restaurant stairs all night if I had to. Then I’d have ridden down tomorrow morning.”

  “Goddamn it, Monica…”

  From somewhere above them, she heard another voice calling. “Monica? Monica? Where are you Monica?” The voice was painfully familiar.

  “Oh hell.” Monica sighed. “Ronnie.”

  “Hell is right,” Paul muttered. He started back up the slope, pulling her along behind him. “It’s okay,” he shouted. “I found her.”

  Monica had a perverse urge to disagree with him. She’d found him as much as he’d found her. But this might not be the best time to point that out, particularly since she needed to concentrate on not tripping.

  “Monica!” Ronnie appeared at the top of the slope, silhouetted against the moonlight. Two other people trailed along behind her.

  Monica squinted. “Is that Billy Joe? And Brendan?”

  “Terrific,” Paul kept towing her up the slope. “We can have a Salt Box reunion. Let’s just hope we don’t all get stranded up here together.”

  Monica contemplated the joys of spending the night on the porch with Ronnie and her bachelors. “No,” she muttered. “Definitely not.” She picked up her pace, walking side-by-side with Paul now.

  “Monica,” Ronnie cried when she saw her. “We were all so worried.” She threw her arms around Monica’s shoulders, hugging her enthusiastically. Apparently Billy Joe’s champagne hadn’t worn off yet.

  “I’m all right, Ronnie. It wasn’t anything. Really.” Monica managed to extricate herself from Ronnie’s embrace. “Let’s go back and get on the gondola now before they close it down.”

  Ronnie turned quickly toward Paul. “You saved her,” she cried, embracing him too. “Oh thank you!”

  Paul blew out an exasperated breath. “Let’s just get on the gondola now, Ronnie. We don’t want to get stuck up here.”

  “Oh.” Ronnie looked momentarily confused. “Well, okay.”

  Brendan draped an arm across her shoulders. “Come on, sweet thing, it’s kinda cold out here.”

  Ronnie gave him a dazzling smile. Billy Joe gave him a laser-eyed look that should have reduced him to ashes.

  “Come on.” Paul cast an irritated glance toward Monica. “Keep with the group. We don’t want you getting lost again.”

  “I won’t get lost again,” she said through gritted teeth. “I wasn’t exactly lost before. I told you. I just had trouble getting out of the woods.”

  “Well, stay on the path this time.” He sounded a lot like an irritated camp counselor.

  Ronnie wheeled back in his direction. “Don’t you be mean to my friend,” she snapped. “She could have been lost up here. She could have been…eaten by a bear. Or something. If somebody hadn’t helped her.”

  “Exactly, that somebody being me.” Paul’s voice was so laden with sarcasm not even Ronnie could miss it.

  She put her hands on her hips, her lower lip jutting out. “Don’t you be mean to me, either. I can send you home, you know. Any time I want to.”

  Paul blew out an exasperated breath. “Be my guest.”

  “Hey now, Ronnie,” Brendan said anxiously. “Take it easy.”

  Ronnie whirled toward him. “I could send you home too. And you.” She po
inted at Billy Joe. “I can send you all home. Only…” Her lower lip began to tremble. “Only then I’d be all by myself. Except for Monica.”

  Monica rolled her eyes, then stepped forward, putting her own arm around Ronnie this time. “Come on, sweetie. Time to get on the gondola. Let’s go downhill.”

  “It’s all downhill,” Ronnie muttered as she stumbled toward the restaurant. “It’s all downhill from here.”

  Monica thought she heard someone mutter “Amen” behind them, but she was too busy getting Ronnie onto the gondola to be sure.

  “Slow down,” Paul said from behind her. “You don’t want to trip up here in the dark.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she said between her teeth. “Just look out for yourself.”

  “Right,” he mumbled. “I’ll be sure to do that from now on.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Paul was fairly certain that Ronnie would be shaking his hand at the next cut ceremony. It had been a long, silent ride down the mountain the night before, once they’d managed to convince the gondola operator to let them on. And once they were down, Monica had flatly refused his offer of a ride back to the resort. He ended up in a car with Brendan and Faisal, neither one of whom seemed interested in a conversation.

  Not that he was all that interested in talking to anybody himself.

  Monica had ignored him totally during the interviews that morning, and so had Ronnie. Not that Ronnie had ever paid a lot of attention to him, but this time it seemed deliberate.

  He figured she was still pissed at him, besides which she looked seriously hung over. All in all, the interviews were fairly subdued since Ronnie had let it be known that she wanted no loud noises in her vicinity.

  The prospect of being tossed out didn’t bother him particularly—he’d been pulling for Ronnie to cut him for weeks. If she finally got around to doing it tomorrow, he’d have a couple of days to make things right with Monica before they were done.

  The fact that Monica was still pissed did bother him. A lot.

  He should have been more polite when he’d found her in that pine grove. He should have been more sensitive. He should have been…something. But he’d been concerned about her, worried about her, damn it. And being a guy, he’d done exactly the wrong thing once he’d finally managed to locate her. He’d snarled.

  If it hadn’t been for the damned show, he could have apologized by now. But as soon as the interviews were over, the three of them had been bundled back to the Bachelor House to be given directions for tonight’s stunt. He didn’t know what exactly they’d be doing on their final group date, but apparently it involved water since they’d had to sign a new round of releases and pick up swimming suits. He just hoped Darryl hadn’t suggested any moonlight whitewater rafting adventures.

  He needed to get back into Monica’s good graces now before he got hung up in the whole final-interview-moving-out mess that would result when he was cut from the bachelor horde. Once they were in different parts of town, it would be that much harder to talk to her.

  He sat in the resort coffee shop and dialed Monica’s number again. His call went straight to voice mail—again—and he disconnected. Seeing as how he’d already left her three messages, he didn’t really want to leave her any more.

  He was also dealing with his folks, via long distance. They’d finally caught up with the first two episodes of Finding Mr. Right, and his mom was understandably confused about the chances of Ronnie ending up as her future daughter-in-law. She didn’t seem too upset when he explained he was just sort of a fill-in.

  “She seems like a very nice girl,” she said carefully. “Very pretty and all. But I don’t think she’s really your type.”

  “Nope,” Paul agreed. “She isn’t.”

  Monica, on the other hand… Paul sighed. He wasn’t sure what Monica was to him exactly, but he was beginning to think she was way more than a location hook-up. He needed to figure out how he felt about her. And he needed to guts up and ask her how she felt about him.

  Assuming he could get her to speak to him again.

  After another half hour of useless skulking around the resort, he caught the shuttle bus downtown, then headed down Main Street, still trying to figure out how to find Monica. He couldn’t do any more looking for her at the resort without the risk of running into Glenn Donovan. With any luck, she’d head into town for lunch and he might be able to run her down then.

  He glanced up at the end of the block and paused. Faisal had just come out of a western clothing store in the middle of the block with a plastic bag in his hand. And according to Brendan, Faisal was happy to talk. Paul sidled his way, pasting on his best artificial smile. “Hey, Faisal. You buy some western wear?”

  Faisal gave him a narrow-eyed look. Paul had to admit it was one of his less effective opening lines. “Boots,” he snapped.

  Paul tried desperately to think of some way to segue from western wear to the show, but there wasn’t one and he didn’t have time to screw around. “Where are we shooting tonight?”

  Faisal frowned. “I’m not supposed…”

  He shook his head impatiently. “The hell with that. We both know Ronnie’s going to cut me tomorrow, and we both know I don’t give a crap. I need to talk to Monica before we start shooting. Where’s the group date going to be?”

  Faisal shrugged. “Hot springs and spa outside town. Don’t ask me the name—I just go where they tell me.”

  Paul nodded slowly. “That’s okay. I’ll ask somebody else where it is. Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me. In fact, don’t mention me. As far as anybody knows, I never spoke to you.”

  “Fine by me. I have no idea who you are.”

  Faisal muttered something that sounded like “fuckin’ right,” but by then Paul was already headed in the other direction.

  Al Monteith’s garage still looked like it had half the cars in town parked outside. He stepped in the side door, hoping his luck would hold. It did. Nona was seated at her desk, her phone glued to her ear.

  “Listen, Mick, he’ll get to it when he can. You know that. And I’ll call you when he does. You know that too.” She glanced over in Paul’s direction, giving him a quick smile. “Okay, then, I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up, her smile widening. “Look what the cat dragged in. You need a car?”

  He shook his head. “I need information. Is there a hot springs around here?”

  Her forehead furrowed. “There’s the municipal pool downtown. That’s fed by a hot spring.”

  “This one has a spa. And it’s supposed to be outside town.”

  After a moment, Nona gave him a slow, faintly crafty smile. “You mean Carter’s Falls?”

  He shrugged. “Could be. Is it private?”

  Her smile broadened. “Is it ever. After dark, it’s suits optional.”

  “Oh.” He shook his head. “Somehow I don’t think they’ll be using that part on basic cable. What else do they have going on?”

  “Quite a bit.” She gestured toward a somewhat rickety chair opposite her desk. “Have a seat, my boy, and let’s talk.”

  Monica sat in the cabin they’d rented for Ronnie’s dressing room at the hot springs. Ronnie had largely recovered from all the champagne she’d had the night before, but she still looked a little shaky in her sandals. Monica considered the advisability of giving her more aspirin and rejected it. They were already over the dosage limits and she didn’t want Ronnie to end up with a perforated ulcer.

  “Are you sure these look okay?” Ronnie said doubtfully, gazing down at her wedge heels.

  “They’re great,” Monica replied automatically. “You look wonderful.” Hopefully, Ronnie wouldn’t be able to tell that her heart wasn’t entirely in it.

  Ronnie sank down into one of the camp chairs. “I’ll be glad when this is over.”

  “You don’t like the hot springs?” Monica herself thought it was a great place. It didn’t even have the sulfur smell you got at most of the springs she’d been to.
And the pools were set in picturesque stone grottoes with waterfalls at the side. It should look terrific on camera, assuming Faisal found a way to shoot around the “suits optional” areas.

  Ronnie shrugged one shoulder. “It’s okay. I meant the show. I’ll be glad when the show is over.” She heaved a mighty sigh. “I’m tired.”

  What the hell? At this point in the show, Ronnie was supposed to be bubbling over with enthusiasm at the prospect of finding Mr. Right. “But you’ve got three guys left to choose from. That should make the last two or three episodes interesting.”

  Ronnie shrugged again. “I guess. To tell you the truth I kind of liked Salt Box better than the resort. I liked it when we were all together. I don’t want to cut Paul.”

  Monica’s stomach gave a quick twinge. She’d never thought Ronnie had any particular feelings for Paul one way or the other. That could make everything a lot trickier. “Are you planning to cut him tomorrow?”

  Ronnie’s eyes widened. “Well, I mean, I just kept him around for you. And then you had that big fight, so I figured you didn’t want him here anymore. So yeah, I’ll cut him now. But I’ll miss him. He’s funny.”

  Somehow Monica managed to keep her jaw from dropping. “For me? You kept him around for me?”

  “Sure. I mean, the two of you had a thing. I figured if I cut him, they might send him home and you’d be unhappy. But then he was such a jerk up on that mountain last night when he found you.” Ronnie frowned, her brows drawing together. “At least I think he was. I mean I was sort of drunk so I don’t remember it exactly.”

  Monica blew out a breath. “He was pretty abrupt. But I think he was worried about me.”

  “You’re not still mad at him?”

  She took a moment to assess her own feelings, then shook her head. “No. Not really. I mean he came up and found me when he didn’t have to. Glenn sure didn’t bother to send anyone up to check.”

  “Oh.” Ronnie sighed. “Well, maybe I’ll think about it then. The thing is, though, I have to cut somebody. I mean, we’re getting so close to the end and all.”