Undercover Bachelor (Undercover Matchmakers Book 1)

by Maria Geraci

  Pop grabbed some cookies off the plate. “It’s your last chance,” he said meaningfully. “We’re going to Paul’s house to watch the Braves kick some Mets ass tonight.”

  “Sorry, but it’s my turn to lead the book discussion.”

  “Don’t say we didn’t warn you,” Frank Jr. added ominously right before he and Pop walked out the kitchen door.

  Annie shook her head. Men. She’d long since given up trying to figure them out. She headed into the family room where the three other members of the book club sat on the couch, their eyes glued to the TV set. “What’s going on?”

  Mom blew her an air kiss from across the room. “Annie, sweetheart, grab a seat. You don’t want to miss this.”

  She followed their gazes to the screen. An attractive young woman with long, blonde hair wearing a skintight sequined evening gown stood in front of a room of men all wearing suits. It looked like a supermodel convention. “What are you watching? Did I get the date wrong? Isn’t this book club night?”

  “Shhh,” said Millie. “It’s the season premiere of Single Gal.”

  “You’re watching a reality dating show?”

  “Isn’t it exciting!” said Mom. “This season is Hannah’s turn. You remember me talking about her, don’t you? She’s the one who got her heart broke by that horrible Jeremy.” Charlotte and Millie shuddered at the name like he was a villain from a Dickens novel.

  “I thought we were supposed to be discussing Jodi Picoult’s latest book.”

  “We are. I mean, we will. Just not tonight. I would have never scheduled book club if I’d known Single Gal was going to be on.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Annie flopped down on her father’s La-Z-Boy chair. “You do know none of this is real. It’s all just a bunch of out-of-work actors trying to get their fifteen minutes of fame.”

  Millie turned to look at her. “But, Annie, honey, it’s on live TV, so it has to be real. Can you be a love and get me one of your mom’s chocolate chip cookies?”

  Annie suppressed a grumble on her way back to the kitchen. If she’d listened to Pop and Frank Jr., she’d be at her cousin Paul’s house watching baseball. Instead, she was playing fetch-it girl to a bunch of fiftysomething women in the throes of a midlife crisis. She picked up the veggie tray along with the plate of cookies and a full bottle of wine, then placed it on the table in front of the couch.

  Charlotte, who Annie had always considered the most pragmatic of her mother’s friends, appeared captivated by the image on the screen. She mechanically reached out to refill her wine glass.

  “So the three of you are serious? We’re really not having book club tonight?”

  “We’ll try again in a few days. How about that?” said Mom in the same tone she used to use when Annie was five and wanted a kitten. Annie never got the kitten (they already had three dogs and two hamsters), and it looked like she wouldn’t be discussing a book tonight either.

  Oh well. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. But have a chocolate chip cookie while you’re at it.

  “So what’s going on here?” she asked, biting into what was probably four hundred calories of flour, white sugar, and chocolate. I’m definitely not writing this down in my food journal. “Who is this Hannah?”

  “Who is this Hannah?” parroted Millie, her eyes gleaming rabidly. Someone had definitely been hitting the wine bottle. No driving for Millie tonight. Good thing she lived just a few blocks over. Annie could drop her off on her way home. “Just the sweetest woman ever, that’s who! She was on last season’s Single Guy. She made it all the way to the end, but then Jeremy”—Charlotte and Mom interrupted to boo—“picked that horrible Sydney, who no one in America likes, by the way. But it’s okay because Hannah has her own show now.”

  “She picks one of these guys here to date, right?”

  “Date? If all goes well, it will end with an engagement,” said Mom. “With a big fat diamond ring too.”

  “Engaged? After what, a few weeks?”

  “Six weeks,” said Charlotte. “Of very intense dating.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Annie sputtered. “How can anyone know someone well enough to marry after just six weeks?”

  “Oh, honey, not everyone is like you and Russell,” said Millie. “It could happen.”

  The room froze over in silence. Annie’s face went hotter than the time she accidentally swallowed an entire jalapeño hidden in the nachos at the state fair when she was fifteen.

  Mom and Charlotte gave her what she liked to call the “Poor Annie” face, and Millie immediately backtracked. “What I meant to say is, of course, you’re right. Marriage isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

  Annie took a deep breath and counted to three. “No worries. That was years ago. I’m totally over Russell.” It was the rest of the town who couldn’t stop talking about the failed relationship that had caused her to come crawling back home with her tail between her legs.

  “Well of course you are!” said Millie, who seemed to realize that she was only making things worse but didn’t quite know how to stop herself. “You’re dating Walter now and, well, he’s just … darling, isn’t he? He’s nothing like Russell. Nothing at all.”

  “Walter is fabulous,” said Charlotte with way too much enthusiasm. “Big reader too. He comes into my store every Saturday morning like clockwork.”

  Mom didn’t say anything, which made it more awkward.

  Charlotte pointed at the screen. “Look! There he is!” Mom squealed. Millie fanned her face like she was all hot and bothered.

  “There who is?” asked Annie.

  “Sam,” Millie said. “Isn’t he adorable? I know it’s just night one, but he’s already our favorite. The minute he stepped out of the limo, I was like ‘That one!’”

  “Quiet,” Mom commanded. “He’s about to talk to Hannah.”

  Millie and Charlotte edged forward in their seats.

  Annie checked this “Sam” out. He was cute enough, with his wavy, light brown hair and dimples and … were his eyes green? Yep. He had perfect white teeth too. They were probably capped. Definitely an actor.

  Annie swiped another chocolate chip cookie off the plate. Sam had a nice voice too. Deep, with just a twinge of a Southern accent. Texas, maybe?

  Hannah and her double Ds leaned toward him. “What do you do for work, Sam?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

  “I supply gas.”

  Millie looked around the room. “Did he just say he supplied gas?”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Mom.

  “He must be nervous,” said Charlotte. “Maybe he meant something else?”

  “So you work in a gas station?” Hannah asked. Annie could hear the not-so-hidden contempt in her voice. What a witch.

  “Not exactly,” Sam said, rolling his neck to the side. Annie revised her opinion of him. This guy was no actor. He looked too miserable in front of the camera. “What do you do?” he asked Hannah.

  Annie poured herself a glass of wine. She would never admit it to Mom and the rest of the book club, but she could understand how just after a few minutes of watching him on TV, Sam had become their favorite. There was something endearing about his awkwardness. He seemed like a normal, everyday guy. Except ridiculously good-looking. And that voice … She suppressed a shiver. Annie had never believed in love in at first sight. But lust? Oh, yeah.

  She focused back on the show.

  “Tell me about your previous relationships,” Hannah asked with all the enthusiasm of someone reading off a cue card.

  “Don’t answer her, Sam!” Annie shouted at the TV, surprising not just herself, but Mom and Charlotte as well. They turned to look at her with upraised brows.

  “Looks like someone is getting vested in Single Gal,” Millie sing-songed.

  “I’m not vested,” Annie protested, “it’s just—”

  “We know,” said Mom. “This show is addictive. Like crack.”

  Annie wasn’t sure she wanted to know what
her mother knew about crack.

  “What do you want to know?” Sam asked, clearly uncomfortable.

  “You know, the usual. Ever been married? Any serious girlfriends?”

  “Never been married. One serious girlfriend.”

  “What happened?” asked Hannah.

  Annie took a swig of her wine. Yeah, what happened?

  “She was a Longhorn. I was an Aggie,” he drawled. “It was never going to work out.”

  Annie snorted with laughter. Terrific answer. Good-looking. Nice voice. And a sense of humor. So what if he worked at a gas station?

  “What’s your family like?” asked Hannah.

  “They’re great. My mom and my sister, Becks, that’s short for Rebecca, are big fans of yours. They’re the ones who submitted my application for the show.”

  “That’s so sweet! I love them already!” Ugh. Hannah was so disingenuous. Hopefully, Sam could see through her.

  “Yeah, well, they love you too.”

  “How old is your sister?”

  “She’s almost eighteen,” said Sam.

  “That’s a bit of an age difference, isn’t it? You’re, what … ?”

  “Thirty-five,” he said.

  “So you have to be ready to settle down. What’s your dad like? Is he a fan of the show too?”

  “My dad passed away ten years ago.” His voice went tight with emotion. Baring your soul to America was part of the show and what he’d signed up for. Still, Annie couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She took another swig of her wine. Run away, Sam!

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Were those tears in Hannah’s eyes? The camera went in for a closeup. She dabbed a manicured finger around her outer eye, presumably to wipe away any smeared mascara. Bleh.

  “Let’s talk about what you’re looking for in a girl. I hope you like blondes,” she teased, clearly fishing for a compliment.

  “I don’t really have a type,” Sam said.

  “All men have a type,” said Hannah. “C’mon, tell America all about your perfect girl.”

  “First off,” said Sam, “I don’t want a girl. I want a woman.”

  Millie raised her glass in the air. “Well said!”

  “Go on,” Hannah urged.

  Sam shrugged adorably. “I want the same thing my parents had.”

  “Which is what?” Hannah persisted.

  “A marriage that lasts until death do us part, and even after that. I don’t care what color hair she has or if she even has hair. I want someone who’ll make me laugh and laughs at all my stupid jokes. Who doesn’t mind that I wake up grumpy and don’t like to talk until after I’ve had my coffee and work the crossword puzzle. I want to feel that zing you get when you meet the woman you know you were meant to spend the rest of your life with.”

  Annie sucked in a breath.

  “Oh my,” whispered Charlotte.

  “He’s … perfect,” said Mom.

  Annie couldn’t agree more.

  A man dressed as a duck came up to Hannah, interrupting her conversation with Sam.

  “I hate to ask,” said Annie, “but why is that guy dressed like a duck?”

  “Every season someone does something outrageous,” said Mom. “It helps them get noticed.”

  Millie snorted. “This is actually pretty tame. One year a guy came in wearing nothing but a loincloth.”

  Sam was forced to say goodbye to Hannah so that she and the Duck could get in some “quality” time. Their conversation was so boring and pretentious that Annie had to eat a third chocolate chip cookie just to get through watching it. Then one of the bachelors serenaded Hannah with an “original” song he’d written about her. Another bachelor brought her a donut from his grandmother’s bakery. One guy read a poem that left Hannah in tears afterward.

  “FYI, he didn’t write that,” Annie shouted at the screen. “It was written by Keats.”

  “Isn’t this better than discussing that sad Jodi Picoult book?” asked Millie. “Who do you think Hannah will cut tonight?”

  “Definitely the guy in the duck suit,” said Mom.

  Charlotte nodded. “Bless his heart.”

  “She’ll keep the born-again ex-football player,” said Millie. “He’s husband material.”

  Annie’s cell phone pinged. It was a text from her boyfriend, Walter.

  How’s book club?

  Annie wasn’t about to admit to watching some silly reality TV dating show. Walter only watched PBS or the occasional golf tournament. Not because Walter played golf, but most of the partners at the law firm he worked at did, and Walter said it was necessary for him to be able to discuss the sport intelligently. Television, he said, was a mind suck for the masses.

  She texted him back. We’re having fun.

  Not exactly the truth but not exactly a lie. Technically they weren’t discussing a book, but she wasn’t having a horrible time either.

  Mom glanced over curiously. “Who are you texting?”

  “Just a friend.” She wasn’t trying to be duplicitous, but if she told them it was Walter, then they would all want to talk about him. Annie didn’t want to have to tell them for the umpteenth time that she and Walter still weren’t engaged, let alone that they hadn’t even talked about marriage for months. But this was nothing like the Russell fiasco. Annie wasn’t uprooting her life and career to chase after a man. That lesson had been learned and catalogued in the “Never Again” column of her life.

  I want to feel that zing you get when you meet the woman you know you were meant to spend the rest of your life with.

  She mentally shook her head. Get a grip, Annie. It was a reality TV dating show.

  Eventually, she and Walter would get engaged. It was just a matter of finding the right time in their careers. Everything in Annie’s life was just the way she liked it. Neat, orderly, predictable. Which might sound boring to some people, but who needed a roller coaster when the carousel was perfectly wonderful? Besides, no one ever fell off a carousel and broke their neck, did they?

  She was about to switch off her phone when a Twitter notification came across the screen. It was from a celebrity she followed. Curious, Annie tapped on the icon to open the Tweet.

  LOVE LOVE LOVE Gas Station Sam! #SingleGal.

  She scrolled down to see more Tweets.

  Gas Station Sam is a hottie! #SingleGal

  If Hannah doesn’t want him, I do! #GasStationSam #SingleGal

  Millie pointed to Annie’s phone. “What are you looking at?” she asked, slurring her words.

  “It looks like this Sam you all love is pretty popular.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Charlotte.

  Annie handed her phone to the older woman. “See? All those comments are about him.”

  Charlotte pulled out her readers and studied the screen. “How do I see more of these?”

  Annie showed her how to access the Tweets.

  “What are the pound signs for?” she asked.

  “Those are hashtags. It lets other people know what you’re talking about. See, she’s hashtagged Single Gal so people know she’s referencing the show.”

  Charlotte handed the phone to Mom, who then handed it over to Millie. “There’s hundreds of these hash browns with Sam’s name on them!”

  Oh yeah, she was definitely driving Millie home tonight.

  “Why are they calling him Gas Station Sam?” asked Mom.

  “Probably because he works at a gas station,” said Charlotte.

  “Look!” said Millie, bringing their attention back to the TV. “It’s Don Carmichael!”

  The show’s host came on screen and announced that it was time to hand out the roses, declaring that this would be the show’s most dramatic moment ever.

  “What’s going on?” asked Annie. “Why is this going to be the most dramatic moment ever?”

  Charlotte waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, they always say that. It heightens the tension.”

  “Yeah,” said Millie, “but it always turns out to
be the same old thing.”

  Hannah stood in front of her twenty-five suitors and gave a little speech about how humbled she felt being their Single Gal. Tonight had been the best night of her life, and she appreciated all the men taking time out of their busy lives to come support her dream. She finished by saying that she was positive that her future husband was standing in front of her.

  The men, all dressed in suits (except for the duck), smiled back. The camera kept panning between Sam, who had a noticeable sheen on his forehead like he was sweating, to the guy in the duck suit, who Annie thought looked a bit too cocky for a guy wearing feathers.

  Hannah wet her lips (dramatically!), reached out for a rose boutonniere and smiled at the men. “Dave,” she called out.

  A tall guy with sandy colored hair walked up to her.

  “Dave,” said Hannah, “Will you accept this rose and continue on the Single Gal journey with me?”

  Dave grinned, revealing the whitest set of teeth Annie had ever seen. “No need to ask, pretty lady. I’ll always accept a rose from you.”

  Yuck.

  Hannah pinned the rose boutonniere on his lapel, then reached out to hug him. “Thank you!” she gushed.

  She handed out a few more roses to guys who looked more like models than real people.

  Annie glanced down at her phone screen.

  For Sam’s sake, call him already! #GasStationSam #SingleGal

  Why hasn’t Hannah given Sam a rose yet???? #SingleGal #IwantSam

  I hate Hannah for making Sam wait! #SingleGal #Hannahissodumb

  “What is she waiting for?” asked Charlotte. “Why hasn’t she given Sam a rose yet?”

  “She’s making him wait until last because she wants to show him he’s special,” said Millie.

  “Doesn’t seem like a good way to show him he’s special,” Mom said.

  The three older women began to chant, “Sam! Sam! Sam!”

  Finally, Hannah gave out all the roses except one. Don What’s-His-Name came on screen again. His smarmy gaze went from Hannah to the lone rose boutonniere lying on the platter, then back at the men again. “Gentlemen,” he said solemnly, “there’s just one rose left. Which means the rest of you will be going home tonight.”