Blind Date with a Billionaire Professor
Blind Date Disasters
Evangeline Kelly
Copyright © 2019 by Evangeline Kelly. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book shall be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author. Blind Date with a Billionaire Professor is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Scripture quotations are from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. https://www.esv.org/resources/esv-global-study-bible/copyright-page/
Table of Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
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Chapter 1
Abby
Breaking down on the side of the road in my clunker of a car was not how I envisioned this day going. The nineteen seventy-seven yellow Corolla I purchased a while back had served me well for years, but its usefulness was coming to an end.
Please, just last a little longer. I cranked the engine hoping and praying it would start, but all I got was…nothing. Best-case scenario: the battery died. Worse case: I needed a new vehicle. Since I couldn’t afford to buy a car right now, I really, really hoped this wouldn’t set me back.
I typed out a quick text to my good friend, Nick. Car broke down on the side of the road. Can you help me out? Since I’d taken a day off from work to organize and clean his garage, he owed me one. He was one of those dreamy guys women fell for the second they laid eyes on him, and I’d had a little crush on him for… How long had it been? Almost ten years. You didn’t have to tell me how pitiful it was that I still had feelings for him after all this time. It would be smart to move on, and one would think I’d be over him by now, but I couldn’t seem to let go.
Over the years, there were a few great guys who showed interest in me, but I couldn’t get excited about any of them. I had this problem, and I knew for a fact I wasn’t alone in this. All one had to do was Google “why women like players” in order to better understand my “problem.”
Yes, I was drawn to players.
Yes, it was embarrassing but true.
And yes, I wanted to break that cycle, but I wasn’t sure how to make myself like the right kind of guy. Could you really force yourself to like one man over another? So far I hadn’t been able to do that.
I guess I liked the challenge, or maybe the charismatic types had a certain something that pulled me in. Believe me, if I finally got rid of this problematic issue and learned how to become attracted to the nice guys, I might find Mr. Right and settle down.
Sometimes it felt like my chances were weakening since I was thirty-five and still dealing with this. I wasn’t desperate to get married, which is probably why I hadn’t settled for just any guy. Being an independent single woman had its benefits, and I wasn’t opposed to remaining single for the rest of my life if that was what God wanted. That would be perfectly fine with me.
But on the other hand, it would be nice to have a partner, someone to share the highs and the lows with.
If I could just figure out how to stop liking Nick.
Or…I could find a way to make him fall in love with me, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about any of this stuff ever again. Of course, that was ridiculous. You couldn’t make someone love you.
His ears must have been burning because my phone lit up with a text from him. Sorry, Abbs. Got a spur-of-the-moment date with a cute redhead. Call Automobile Club?
Ugh. He always had a date when I needed him. A spark of jealousy rose up, but I stamped it down before it had a chance to fester. The redhead wouldn’t last. None of them ever did. Nick went through women like I went through socks. Strange how my socks disappeared after taking them out of the dryer, just like Nick lost track of who he took out last week.
I blew out a harsh breath and gripped my steering wheel. Why did I keep hoping things would change when it came to him? So frustrating. It was just a car problem, but I wanted him to be there for me like I was there for him.
All right, I could deal with this. It was creepy being alone on the side of the highway, but I had Automobile Club, and they would help me. That was what they were there for after all, and I had paid the monthly fee so it was time to claim the service owed to me. Nick’s response was disappointing, but I could handle this on my own.
I made the call to Automobile Club, and the customer service agent told me it would be about forty-five minutes until a tow truck would arrive. In the meantime, I checked my phone to see if my dad had responded to the text I’d sent the other day. Nothing. Not surprising. He lived in Washington D.C. and was pretty busy most days.
I called my best friend, Tammy. “Hey, you’ll never guess where I am.”
“Since you asked, I’ll wager you’re with Nick…helping him with one of his many projects.”
She was practically a mind reader sometimes. “Close. I finished cleaning his garage earlier, but now I’m stuck on the side of the road in this broken-down dump of a car, waiting for Automobile Club to bail me out.”
“Oh, no! Do you want me to pick you up?”
“No, it’s okay. The tow truck guy will give me a ride to the mechanic, but I might need you to pick me up from there.”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll stay with you on the phone until someone arrives.”
“Thanks.”
“Where are you?”
“On Grover Street.”
“Isn’t that close to where Nick lives? Call him. He’ll wait with you.”
“I already texted him. He’s on a date.”
She sighed, and it was one of those long-drawn-out sighs to make a point. “You always drop everything for that guy, and he never returns the favor. He takes advantage of the fact that you’re interested in him.”
“Not true. He helps me out a lot, and he has no idea how I feel.”
“Oh, I guarantee he knows you’re interested. It’s obvious to me and everyone else. You’re like a puppy dog trailing her master when it comes to him.”
“Great. Thanks for that analogy. Now I feel like a real winner.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad about yourself. You’re my best friend, and I love you. I just want you to find a good guy who deserves you. Someone you can trust. Nick isn’t terrible, but he abuses your friendship.”
“You’re making it sound like he purposely let me down this time. That’s not the case. He had a date, and I don’t expect him to drop everything.” I had hoped he would but that didn’t need to be voiced.
“I k
eep telling you, Abby, move on. Nick isn’t serious about settling down. He’s not marriage material.”
“He’s a Christian, he has a job, and he’s a decent guy. Yes, he dates a lot, but I won’t hold that against him. He struggles with commitment but one day that will change.” It had to.
“And you’re hoping he’ll realize the right woman has been under his nose this entire time? That he’ll suddenly want to commit?”
“Of course.”
She sighed long and hard again. “It pains me to tell you this, but he’s just not that into you. If he was, he would drop everything to help you.”
Her words sliced into me, cutting the deepest parts of my heart. Somewhere, in the depths of my psyche, I knew she was right, but I didn’t want to hear that right now. Nick was the only man I’d ever really cared about. We met through mutual friends at church when I was in my twenties, and we dated briefly. Everything was hunky-dory, and I really believed he was the one. He broke my heart when he said he couldn’t date me anymore because he wasn’t ready to get serious with anyone. Instead of letting him go as I should have, I told him I was fine with being friends, and I really was at the time. He’d moved on to a larger church since then, but I’d stayed put, not wanting to leave my small but intimate fellowship group.
“Look,” I said. “I’m not going to date a man I’m not attracted to. I can’t help it if—”
“There are plenty of attractive men with good character out there who would love to go out with you. You need a nice, reliable man. Someone who will be there for you.”
“Nice guys finish last.” I smiled at my attempt at humor even though it wasn’t really that funny, but a part of me actually believed the statement.
“Oh, boy.” Tammy sighed yet again like I was testing her patience. “You need to change your mentality, girl, or you’ll never find anyone. Do you want to be an old maid for the rest of your life?”
“Excuse me, that’s an outdated term, and I don’t like its implications. I’m fine being on my own. Besides, you’re not married either, so…”
“Right, but I’m not following after men like Nick. All I’m saying is you can do better if you’ll open yourself up to other possibilities. Don’t you want someone to share the rest of your life with?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
I hated it when she was right. But I was right too. She just couldn’t see it at the moment. Maybe Nick would finally wake up and realize what he had, but if he didn’t, I was fine remaining single. There was no rush. My biological clock was not ticking, not that I was opposed to having kids, but I was getting up there in age and I’d already come to terms with the fact that I may never have children. And that was okay.
“Promise me you’ll at least try to give another guy a chance,” she said. “If an opportunity presents itself, take it.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
We chatted until the tow truck driver arrived and then he brought me to a local mechanic to get my car checked out. Thankfully, it was just the battery as I’d suspected, and I was able to wait at the shop until they finished working on it.
When I got home, the sun was setting behind the large California mountains, and it was as if God had taken splashes of red and orange and streaked the colors across the sky in His own real-life painting. I took a quick picture with my cell phone and went inside. Later in the week, I would attempt to paint that sky, and I would do my best to capture the hues and contrasting colors.
A deep sadness washed over me as I thought about the conversation with Tammy. I was content to be single and on my own, but it was also true that I longed for a once in a lifetime kind of love. I’d had feelings for Nick for so long now that it was hard to move past that. Tammy’s suggestion of giving someone else a chance wasn’t anything new. I had tried—no one could accuse me of not trying. There’d been a string of boyfriends, but none of those guys ever came close to Nick. The saying was true: the heart wants what it wants.
All right, Lord, I know I’m in a rut. If you bring another man into my life, I’ll give him a chance as long as he loves You. But if it’s Your will, please let things work out with Nick.
Prayer had a way of pricking one’s conscience, or perhaps it was God moving in my heart, guiding me. Tammy was right—Nick wasn’t a bad guy, but he didn’t challenge me to grow closer to the Lord. Lately, I’d come to the conclusion that my spiritual life had grown stagnant and that concerned me. Maybe it was because I’d stopped spending time in the Word as much, or, perhaps, I’d been focusing on all the wrong things. Either way, I knew something had to change…I just wasn’t sure how to go about it.
Sighing, I sat down at my desk and checked Facebook. Nick had already posted a selfie with the redhead, and it appeared like they were having a night out on the town. They were both laughing, their heads smashed together for the photo. No one could deny they looked like a great couple. She was certainly gorgeous. Nick always looked gorgeous…no surprises there. I clicked out of Facebook and did a search on “How to make a guy fall for you,” knowing this was one of those unimportant things I shouldn’t be focusing on, but I did it, anyway.
Maybe I’d sunk to a new low, but curiosity got the best of me.
There were a ton of articles on the subject, and I clicked on the first one that showed up: Five Ways to Make Him Fall Madly in Love with You. If there was a formula that could bring about that result, I would gladly follow it. I was skeptical, of course, but I quickly scanned the text and then printed out the article. There was a lot of information, and I wanted to look back at it later.
I skimmed through the text until I came to the final point. Let him know you have options by dating another guy. That made me sit up a little straighter. Would it work? I put a star next to that one and then folded the paper and shoved it in my front drawer.
I couldn’t believe I was resorting to advice from a stupid article on the internet, but a woman had to do what a woman had to do.
***
The next morning was a Saturday, so I slept in. When I finally got up, I made myself a cup of coffee and then did research on car options. I wasn’t sure how long my Corolla would last, and I needed to prepare myself for the day it breathed its last breath and died. That day would be here sooner than later.
Problem was, I didn’t have a lot to spend on a vehicle because I’d recently made a huge life change. Even though I graduated with a degree in Art, I’d always worked in an office. Some of my employers provided a generous salary, but the work hadn’t been fulfilling, so I took the plunge and quit my job. Now, I worked through a temp agency and concentrated on my art. One day I would make it big—I just knew it. It might take time, but it was worth the sacrifice.
After breakfast, I headed to my crafting club. We made all kinds of things in that club, but for the next month, we were concentrating on scrapbooking. Wilhelmina Drover was the leader, and we met at her house. I absolutely adored Wilhelmina. She was thirteen years older than me, but she had the energy and vibrancy of a twenty-year-old. She’d dyed her hair bright blue—and not just a few strands. Her entire head of hair was blue…like Smurfette blue.
It was a well-known fact that I liked to infuse strands of color in my hair—I was an artist after all—but Wilhelmina took it to a whole new level. As if the blue hair wasn’t enough to draw attention, she periodically wore dresses from the nineteen-fifties. Some outfits were from thrift stores, but most she’d made herself using vintage patterns. She was a very talented woman. Not only was she crafty, but she had a science background and worked as a lab tech at the local university.
Oh, and one last thing: she had tattoos all over her arms—a testament to her wild youth. She’d changed since then, but she still had her own unique style. The tattoos weren’t screaming sculls or crossbones or anything like that. She mostly had roses and vines and a few fifties characters. Funny, she’d married an attorney, and he was as straight-laced as they came. The two of them didn’t look like they went together,
but they were remarkably compatible. Go figure.
I arrived at her house early as was my custom. We liked to chat and catch up on life before everyone else came. Wilhelmina answered the door wearing a red dress with white polka dots. It had a black band at the waist and flared out at the bottom.
“Hey chickie, it’s about time,” she said. “I was about to call you. Thought maybe you weren’t coming.”
“Sorry, I got caught up in researching cars. It won’t be long before I need to buy a new one.”
She looked behind me at my clunker. “Smart move. The Corolla doesn’t look like it’ll hold out much longer.” She held the door open. “Come on inside.”
I followed her to the kitchen where she made two cups of tea. The space was adorable with blue cabinets and red curtains—her favorite colors. She had a Hallman oven and a small table with red and white chairs. Sometimes I wondered if she had a time machine and was secretly going back in time to the nineteen-fifties to get ideas.
“So, how’s the painting going?” she asked.
My shoulders slumped forward as if they had a mind of their own. “It’s going.”
“Try not to sound too enthusiastic.” She handed me a teacup, and we headed into the living room to sit down on the couch. That room had a modern flair that was completely different from the kitchen. According to Wilhelmina, she didn’t want to go overboard on the fifties’ theme, which was amusing considering everything about her said blast to the past.
“I’ll get there one day, but, right now, my sales are dismal. I recently spoke to a local gallery owner, but she prefers modern art. Believe it or not, it’s really hard out there.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Wilhelmina said, taking a sip of her tea. “Maybe you need to expand outside of that one gallery.”
“I’m trying, but it’s difficult to get my foot in the door. A lot of gallery owners want well-known artists, and if your name isn’t recognizable…”
Blind Date with a Billionaire Professor (Blind Date Disasters) Page 1