Chapter 9 #2
Since last night. Honestly, he had thought about it before. But when Michaela mentioned boats last night, the idea had suddenly coalesced. He had to have a yacht. “At least a hundred and fifty feet.” He ignored Clay’s question.
When that evidently shut his brother up, he went on, “She’s very good at what she does.
She matched my buddy Dirk and his wife.” He leaned forward, pointing his fork in the air.
“Do you know that she brought the two owners of FoodFast together? One of them was earning money by running out to get food for the other students who were studying, and she matched him with the perfect programmer. Without her, we wouldn’t have FoodFast. And she did that when she was in freaking university.
” He couldn’t help adding, “She had a full-ride scholarship to Stanford.” He dropped his fork so he could hold his arms out as if to encompass how incredible that was.
Using a knife and fork on his burrito, because God forbid he should pick it up, Fernsby said, “Troy and I had the privilege of spending more time with Miss Killian at the book signing last night. Apparently, she’s a fan, and it was quite a surprise to see her there.
A delightful young lady. And very appreciative of Mathilda Sullivan’s work, I might add. Such discernment is admirable.”
Dane raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so Troy went too.” Then he asked, “How was the book signing?” He probably wanted to glean any tidbits about Fernsby and the author from the man himself. “Did you get your signed copy?”
“I did indeed, sir. And I shall treasure it.” Which was all he seemed about to say on the subject.
Fernsby’s droll tones reminded Troy of that scene with Mathilda Sullivan.
When she’d called him Rolly. No way had she said my boy .
His first inclination had been to run to the family and tell them everything he’d witnessed, from the name to the way Fernsby had stammered, to the card with her phone number, to how he’d stared down at Mathilda’s inscription in the book.
But the more Troy thought about it, the more he questioned whether he had any right to reveal what he’d seen, since he’d basically horned his way into the book signing anyway.
It was Fernsby’s secret to tell, not his.
Just as Troy couldn’t break into the payroll service to find out Fernsby’s first name and age, he shouldn’t reveal what he’d overheard. It wouldn’t be right.
Even if he was dying to tell them all.
Thankfully, none of them asked him. Maybe because Ava had told them it was none of their business.
He didn’t have another moment to think about it when Gabby said, “You seem to be talking an awful lot about Michaela Killian.” She speared him with a too-knowing gaze that made Troy think back. Had he talked about her that much? Sure, he’d lauded her accomplishments. But?—
Gabby steamrolled right over him. “I think you’re smitten.”
He had to turn the tables on his little sister. “At least I’ve been on a date she set up for me. What about you?”
She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Michaela hasn’t found the right match for me.
” She smiled like a cobra ready to strike.
“Men are easy to match. Their needs are so one-dimensional. Women are much more discerning.” All the ladies at the table tittered.
Then Gabby went in for the kill. “Even if she does find a match for me, you’re going to lose this bet. ”
Dane’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what bet?”
Ava wagged her finger at both of them. “What have you two done?”
Before either Troy or Gabby could answer, Fernsby said in his most cultured British drawl, “These two—” He waved a hand between them.
“—bet one million dollars on who would fall in love first.” His eye twitched.
“But the million dollars will go to a good cause.” Was that a wink?
No, Troy had to be wrong about that. Then Fernsby added, “No matter which of them loses, a worthy cause will benefit.”
Troy gaped at him. “How do you know all that?” Then he flashed a glare at Gabby. “Did you tell him?”
She clucked her tongue at him. “Why would I ever do that?”
Dane shook his head. “Guys, get a grip.”
Then all those matched couples chimed in unison, “Fernsby knows everything!”
Fernsby put a hand to his chest. And though Troy was sure he had to be mistaken, he thought that might be an eye roll. “Of course. I am Fernsby. And though some of you seem to be in doubt, Fernsby does know everything.”
A raucous round of laughter raced around the table. The other patrons glared at them, the waitstaff gawked, and the ma?tre d’ appeared ready to rush over until, finally, they settled down.
Clay skewered Troy with a look. “Tell us about this match thing you’ve got going.”
“I hired Michaela Killian, the billionaire matchmaker, to find the perfect match for Gabby.”
Gabby snorted. “Fat chance.”
Ava gave Troy an equally piercing look. “Yes, Troy, tell us more about these matches.”
Troy couldn’t help the slump of his shoulders, then said in disgust, “I allowed those two women—” It was obvious to everyone he meant Gabby and Michaela. “—to con me into letting Michaela match me .”
Gabby had to jump in. “Only after you hired her to make a match for me.”
Saskia said with barely concealed laughter, “And?”
He told them everything. Even though Gabby was sitting right there.
“I wanted Michaela to match Gabby, but she wouldn’t do it without talking to Gabby first. Then they concocted this idea that Michaela had to try to match us both for everything to be fair.
So I let Michaela set me up on a date with a woman last Thursday because I was hoping to make Michaela jealous. ”
Cammie gasped. “Did it work?”
If he wanted help, he had to be honest. “I’m not sure. She doesn’t appear to be jealous.”
Fernsby gave a soft snort that Troy chose to ignore. “All I found out is that Michaela won’t date billionaires. The lady I went on the date with told me that.”
This time, he was sure Fernsby had rolled his eyes. With Rolly , it was hard to tell. His facial expressions were the most minute Troy had ever seen.
Then Fernsby said, “But, sir, as I recall, you asked her to set up another date for you. Was that more of you pursuing your goal of making her jealous?” He arched an eyebrow.
Troy shrugged—answer enough.
Fernsby didn’t let up. “You had dinner with Michaela after the book signing. Did you make any progress at all?”
“That’s when I learned all this incredible stuff about her.” Troy couldn’t help defending himself. “I call that some sort of progress.”
Then Ransom asked—why did he have to speak up now?—with a slight smirk on his lips, “Did you ask her why she doesn’t date billionaires?”
Once again, Troy could only tell the truth. “The timing wasn’t right.” In another defensive move, he added, “Is it ever right to ask a question like that?”
He was gratified that his family all seemed to nod in agreement with him. Then he burst out with his final coup. “That’s when I decided to ask her to help me find a yacht to buy.”
Clay thrust his hands in the air, but all he said was, “Dude.”
Dane asked the sensible question. “What do you want a yacht for?”
“It’s a party boat. For all of us. With a hundred and fifty feet, we can do a lot of partying.”
Ava shook her head sadly, as if he was the biggest buffoon she’d ever met. “You are so bad at this. At thirty-five years old, do you still know nothing about women? You have to woo her. Romance her.”
He wasn’t the romancing type. He’d never had to romance a woman before, but he couldn’t say that. “How do I do that when she adamantly will not?—”
Gabby cut him off. “Fall for your usual bullcrap?”
There was no hope for it. They were right. Troy could only shrug. “I guess so.”
Ava tapped the top of her head as if she were putting on her thinking cap. “Okay, romance. Find out what her favorite movie is, then watch it with her, and tell her it’s the most amazing story you’ve ever seen.” She made a face. “Even if you have to lie.”
Then she leaned in to kiss Ransom, and it was no peck on the cheek, but a full-on, open-mouthed kiss.
The rest of his siblings were not to be outdone. “You can borrow my sports car,” Clay offered, “and take her for a drive down the coast.”
Dane posed, “Why don’t you fly her to my private island? Fernsby will send you off with the tastiest treats.” He winked at Fernsby.
Good God. Another eye roll? Troy still couldn’t be sure. And yet Fernsby nodded ever so slightly.
Troy wasn’t sure he liked any of those ideas. He shot a glare at Gabby, who’d gotten him into this whole thing in the first place. “You’re pretty quiet, dear sister. Aren’t you going to give me any ideas?”
She grinned like the cat that ate the cream. No, wait, many cats were actually lactose intolerant. Gabby was more like Cinderella’s wicked stepsister who’d cut off her toes so her foot would fit in the glass slipper.
“I’m trying to figure out what charity I want you to give that million dollars to,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
Holy heck, she was right. It didn’t even bother him to finally realize he was falling for Michaela. “Yeah, you’d better do that,” he admitted. He wouldn’t miss that million dollars one bit.
But he couldn’t let his siblings get the better of him, and he let his gaze flare across them all. “All right, peanut gallery. Thanks for the vote of confidence you did not give me. All your ideas completely suck.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll come up with my own.”
He might just buy a yacht for her.
The moment he left the mastermind, his phone blew up with texts from the family, all of them saying the same thing: Tell all about the book signing.
He’d already decided it wasn’t right to share Fernsby’s secrets. The only answer he could give was: Nothing to tell. It was just a book signing.
Besides, he had other things to deal with. Because once he’d made that declaration about Michaela to the Harrington family, he’d better follow through.
If I can’t win Michaela, I will never hear the end of it. Ever.
The truth was, if he didn’t win Michaela, his heart would be the loser.
But now he had a mission. To make Michaela fall for him.
Or, at the very least, to accept a real date.
Fernsby wanted to rub his hands together with glee like the Wicked Witch of the West when she sent her flying monkeys after Dorothy.
It had been obvious last night that the boy was smitten. Even better, today Troy had admitted it.
Fernsby smiled inwardly, where none of the others could see. It wouldn’t do for them to notice his glee.
His work here was done. And he hadn’t needed to do a thing.
He looked hard at Gabrielle. She didn’t meet his eye, her gaze alighting on every one of her siblings, yet skipping over him.
Have no fear, my little pretty, you’re next on my list.
Michaela called Troy just after nine on Monday morning. He’d been expecting her call since Friday, when he’d told her to set him up on another date. She’d probably been going through her list of amazing women and making calls.
Yesterday, he’d gone for a long hike in the hills behind his house. The Santa Cruz Mountains were notorious for bad cellphone reception, so if she’d tried to call him, there was no evidence of it. She hadn’t even left a message.
The hike had been his time for reflection on how to woo her or romance her or whatever else Ava had said.
And yet, during that entire ten-mile hike, he hadn’t come up with the perfect romantic gesture that would make Michaela fall for him, or, at the very least, blow her socks off.
Despite his being both a billionaire and her client.
Her voice on the phone sounded chipper—too chipper. “I’ve found a lovely woman for you.”
He had to cut her off before she got him to agree to another date. “I’ve changed my mind.”
She sputtered a moment and then said, “You can’t do that.”
He turned his face to the morning sun. “Of course I can.”
“But you agreed that if I set Gabby up on a date, you have to go out too. You have to let me matchmake for you both.”
Oh yeah, he fully intended to let her matchmake for him. She just had no idea there was only one woman she could match him with. But she’d find out soon. “Look, I’m right near your office. I’ll come up, and we can discuss this like rational human beings.”
Though he had to admit he wasn’t quite rational. Not where she was concerned.
First, he had to figure out why she didn’t date billionaires and change her mind about that. Then he had to get her to agree to date him . And finally, he had to come up with the perfect romantic montage.
The moment he stepped into her office, she pointed a finger at him. “You agreed. You have to go on this date.”
He had a strategy. He just didn’t have any tactics with which to implement it. He said the only thing he could. “I’m not going out with any other women you fix me up with.”
She jammed her hands on her shapely hips. God help him, he wished they were his hands on her. She said indignantly, “Why not?”
He told her the unvarnished truth. “Because the only woman I want to date is you.”