Imperfect Match (Elixir Bachelor Billionaires #1)

DAISY

Double-check the security at town hall—we don’t want any uninvited guests sneaking in.

I mark a check on my to-do list, before proceeding to the next item.

Make sure there’s water ready for Charles.

Just imagining Charles’ parched throat as he’s facing the camera makes my own throat go dry.

This isn’t the time to start feeling sympathy pains for your boss, Daisy.

He’s probably nervous enough as it is, with the whole town watching.

Unlocking the door, my hand lingers on the key fob.

Do I need to use the restroom again?

You’re not trekking through a desert, there are bathrooms at town hall, girl!

Right, let’s go. I head down the stairs of my apartment building and am not surprised to find Dave, one of Charles’ bodyguards, waiting for me on the street. On special occasions like today, I’m sure my boss doesn’t want me to take a chance with a cab.

“Hey, Dave. Thanks for picking me up.”

Slipping into the back seat, I pause. The faint scent of Charles’ Tom Ford cologne, a mix of vanilla and tobacco, still lingers in the air. I take a deep breath before noticing the car freshener on the dashboard. Vanilla and pine.

Dammit, Charles, your nerves are rubbing off on me.

Flipping through my notes, I circle the most urgent tasks in red when my phone interrupts with a ring.

“You don’t have to start a new habit of calling me instead of sending your pointed texts, Charles. I promise, everything’s going to be okay.”

“I’m not Charles, hon.”

“Aunt Mel?” I glance at the caller ID and groan. “Sorry, it’s a big day and I’m a little stressed. You might have already seen on TV—”

“You need to come home, Daisy.”

“Yes, I will. I promise. These last few days have been crazy with work, but I’ll be there on the weekend.”

“No, honey. You need to come right now. We can’t find your dad.”

My fingers pause on my colorful notes as all air leaves my lungs.

“I saw him in the morning through the kitchen window, picking up his newspaper. But when I went to check on him after breakfast, he wasn’t in the house. His sneakers were gone, and his furry house slippers were still at the entryway.”

My stomach rolls. Dad and I bought those matching reindeer slippers last month while shopping for new Christmas tree ornaments. He promised to wear them all season, and to make sure he doesn’t forget, he placed them near the front door.

“He left the home unlocked. The coffee pot was on the stove. I was just in time to prevent any accidents in the kitchen. Fred and the neighbors are looking for him now. I don’t think he’s gone far, but he’ll be scared and disoriented when we find him. You need to be there for him, kiddo.”

My fingers clutch the edges of my skirt, memories of the last time Dad vanished like this flooding my mind.

“Did he take his jacket?”

“No.” That single word is wrapped in sympathy and pain.

How does he remember to change his shoes but forget the jacket right above them? But who knows what Alzheimer’s does to a brain.

“I’ll be right there.”