Bachelor Swap

to zone out after the first ten seconds, and it isn’t until we’re in the air and the flight attendant is delivering more drinks, do I realize I should probably be paying attention.
This will be my life for the next thirty days.
Even though Matthew and I haven’t spoken much in the last few years, I’m headed to Boston to meet up with my brother. The one who vowed to get me out of my latest pickle if I do just one little thing for him. Something we agreed to never do again.
Switch places.
***
Turns out, Morris lives in the same building as Matthew. I figured that out quickly as we flew across the Midwest and he wouldn’t shut up about the place. The older man has a serious hard-on for what’s known as the Bachelor Tower. Every amenity you can imagine at your fingertips. Women in the bar just waiting for an invitation to join you upstairs. More business contacts than a man knows what to do with.
Except, apparently, it’s not just men anymore.
Morris bitched for thirty minutes straight about the fact there’s now at least one female living within the confines of the men-only apartment complex. Something about the niece of the previous owner and how she wrecked the empire her late uncle built. I wanted to ask who gives a shit, but apparently, it’s a bigger deal than I thought. Women don’t belong in the Bachelor Tower, according to Morris.
When the plane finally lands, I’m more than ready to get the hell away from Morris Thompson. I quickly unbuckle and stand, stretching my lower back. I open the overhead compartment and grab my duffel bag, anxious to get the hell out of this tin can. Away from Morris and his nonstop jabbering.
Since luck hasn’t been on my side in the last year, at least, I’m stuck exiting the plane with the man right behind me. When we make it inside the airport, I try to speed up, but surprisingly, Morris keeps pace. Even with his suitcase and garment bag, he remains by my side as we maneuver through the crowded airport.
When I reach the front entrance, I start to look for the driver my brother was sending. I have no idea what he looks like, but since I’m the spitting image of the guy’s boss, I figured it’d be no problem for him to pick me out of a lineup.
“Ahh, I see George is here, Mr. Wilder. Pity I didn’t message Frank to cancel my ride so we could ride together,” the man who has been my talking shadow since the moment I boarded the plane says.
“Yes, pity,” I reply, heading toward the man I assume is George.
“See you soon,” Morris announces before turning and heading toward his own driver.
“How was your flight?” George asks as I approach, reaching for my bag.
“Fine,” I mumble, slipping through the open door and sinking onto the soft as butter seats.
George closes the door behind me and deposits my bag into the trunk. I sigh, relaxing for the first time in more than forty-eight hours. Hell, probably even before that. Life has been…stressful lately.
I’m not usually this much of an asshole, I swear. In fact, I’m the fun, easygoing twin. Matthew has always been the focused, driven brother, the one who rules the boardroom and closes any deal, not caring who he fucks over along the way.
I’m the other brother. The one who jumps in with both feet without weighing the odds, who rarely listens to the advice of anyone around him, and who usually skates through life by the skin of his teeth.
Well, my teeth weren’t able to save me this time.
I’m in deep water with no raft in sight.
That was, until Matthew called me.
I should be surprised he found out about the shit back in Montana, yet I wasn’t. His laser-focused attention to detail and keen eye picked up on the fact my ranch was in trouble. That or he knows the bankers in town, which wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Matthew has contacts all over the world, why not in Casper, Montana?
The ride to where my brother lives isn’t too bad, despite being midafternoon on a Saturday. Even as we move steadily through the city, this place is nothing compared to Casper. Two stoplights and a Walmart are all we have back in the southern Montana town, which suits me just fine. The less populated, the better, in my book.
Eventually the car stops in front of a big building. It’s large and regal with floor-to-ceiling windows and a view from just about any angle. I can already see why my brother loves it. It’s better than Park Avenue in New York City. When the door opens, George is standing there.
The first thing I notice when I step outside is the sky is as gray as my mood, and the fact it looks almost odd against the pristine building laid out in front of me. I can’t help but stare up at it, as if it were a painting in a museum.
“Good afternoon, sir. If you’ll follow me,” a gentleman in a uniform says, opening the front entrance.
“Thanks,” I reply, stepping through the doorway and into the spacious lobby.
Then I notice is a large bar. There are a handful of men sitting around, but it’s the women who catch my attention. There’s almost twice as many women as men in the room, all dressed to the nines with their assets on full display. Yeah, this place is nothing like the Smoky Saloon back home.
Sighing, I follow the doorman to the elevator. “Mr. Wilder is expecting you, sir.” As soon as the car door opens, I step in and wait, not sure where I’m going. The doorman makes it easy though and presses the button for the twelfth floor. “Twelve oh four, sir. Have a good day.”
Then the door closes behind him and I’m left in silence.
Sagging against the back wall, I close my eyes and contemplate all my options once