C5 The ONE

“So we hit a bit of a snag…” Roxi’s voice sounded through my car’s Bluetooth as I drove home.

“What kind of snag?”

“The stepbrother guy I had picked out fell through. I have a back up…”

“Yay.” I spoke with as much sarcasm as I could possible use. “A backup… seriously I’m so done with these guys!” I heaved an exasperated sigh and rolled my eyes, even knowing she couldn’t see me.

“You have two types left. And I have two set up back-to-back, but you’ll need to travel. Is your passport valid?” She completely ignored my sarcasm.

“Wait. How did we get to the passport question? Where are you planning on sending me?” I narrowed my eyes at the road, waiting.

“You’ll love it! You’ve always wanted to go there and now you have the perfect excuse! And it will all be a tax write off as well as expensed so you’re golden!”

“You have way too much enthusiasm for me to believe you right now.”

“It’s Scotland, Mere. Scotland.”

“No. Freaking. Way,” I whispered. Number one on my bucket list… it was a carrot she knew I couldn’t resist.

“Wait… who is in Scotland?”

“The Stepbrother guy and the Millionaire.”

“Seriously, you couldn’t find either of those in America?” I spoke with thick sarcasm. “Not that I’m opposed to Scotland—”

“I’m not just going to set you up with anyone. I need credentials and—”

“And the backup guy is the one with credentials? Wait… I thought we were going for a billionaire?”

“Yeah… that changed too. I only had so many people volunteering—”

“And the last guy had volunteered? Yeah… not buying it.”

“He was… unique.”

“He was a masochist that makes me want to take a shower after thinking of his name,” I shrieked, shivering.

“He wasn’t that bad.”

“Says the spider to the fly,” I yelled inside the car, knowing my tone would carry through my Bluetooth.

“Are you going to go to Scotland or not.” She sighed heavily into the phone and I winced at the sound.

I paused, narrowing my eyes at the road. “Do I get first class?”

“No.”

“Do I get a nice hotel?” I twisted my lips.

“Depends on how fast you say yes.”

“Yes.”

“You’re booked at Hotel Indigo in Edinburgh. You fly out in three days, and I’ll have your first guy pick you up from the airport.” There was a victorious tone to her words that made me growl.

But I was getting Scotland out of the deal. And honestly, how much worse could the guys get?

I took a deep breath. “Who is this first guy… and why are you having him pick me up?”

“You’ll see. Don’t worry, he knows the city well. You’ll be in good hands.”

“So he’s my Allstate agent?” I responded cynically.

“Ha, ha, funny. No. But you’ll be fine. I gotta go. Keep up with the writing, it’s perfect, funny. I love it all, and the blog is booming from it. So keep it up! Bye!”

“Bye.” I sighed the word, arching a brow in suspicion.

At least I got something pretty awesome out of the deal.

Scotland.

Yeah, I could deal with a lot if I got to go there.

****

The flight was ten hours of red-eye nightmare. It was impossible to sleep with the amount of turbulence we experienced, and I wasn’t exactly a calm flyer anyway, so I basically white knuckled it for the entire time to Edinburgh International Airport. Then, as I was pulling out my carry-on, a wheel snapped off and smacked a kid on the head. And yes, I totally pretended it was the guy in front of me. Glaring at him, I shook my head and passed through the aisle as the mother of the child subjected him to a hard stare.

I never said I was mature.

The line for customs was blessedly short, which was good since my bladder was growing more impatient by the moment.

With the wheel broken off, my carry-on dragged along the floor, one pathetic wheel spinning freely while the other two rocked back and forth like a shopping cart from hell. As I passed a restroom I debated on whether or not to go in. Honestly, I didn’t want to see my own reflection. It would be rough… in the kindest sense of the word. Yet my cursed pride wouldn’t let me meet this mystery bachelor number four without at least trying to wipe the smeared mascara from under my eyes.

I had standards.

Had being the operative word. The last ten hours had made me almost abandon them all.

Grumbling, I hauled my wobbling suitcase to the restroom. I passed a few mirrors and glanced up.

It was bad.

Forget the mascara smears; it was like any makeup I had worn had melted off my face and dripped down two inches from where it had started. After taking care of the bladder situation, I found a diaper changing station and set my waddling carry-on on top of it. I laid it on its side, unzipped it, and retrieved my makeup bag. Time to go to work.

Fifteen minutes later, I was at least recognizable to myself. Tucking everything away, I straightened my shoulders and walked… directly to a coffee shop.

“Hi. Can I have black coffee with a splash of cream?” I ordered and pulled out my card.

“Course.” The Scottish brogue teased my ears, and I couldn’t help but smile.

I was in Scotland!

“But I have no cream. Will milk do?”

“No cream?” I asked, puzzled. Who didn’t have cream for their coffee? At a coffee shop no less!

“’Fraid not. Skim or part skim? Whole milk perhaps?” she asked politely.

“Whole.” I blinked, then handed her my company card.

“I’m afraid I canno’ accept that.” She handed the plastic card back to me.

“Pardon?” I glanced at the Visa Logo. Apparently they were not everywhere you wanted to be.

“No chip.” She shrugged. “Do you have a chip and pin card?”

“Uh… I have cash? But I haven’t exchanged it yet.” I was starting to sweat. The line behind me was growing and I really wanted that blasted coffee!

“I can do that.” She smiled, but it was less friendly.

I handed her a twenty in American dollars and watched in fascination as she counted back the change in pounds.