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“Last chance, honey!” Serena whispers loudly next to me.
The auctioneer brings up Violetta Reed, our local Main Street director, to make an announcement about the final bachelor.
“We have a special treat tonight. This year’s Darling Creek Cowboy Auction has one final bachelor for you ladies to bid on.
Violetta wags her eyebrows mysteriously as the crowd murmurs.
“This bachelor will go on a date, or provide one lucky winner with a day of household chores. He says he can go all day. Allll day,” Violetta says, exaggerating the word and being quite obvious enough that I have to wonder if this is her ad-libbing or if the mystery bachelor actually wrote any of this about himself. “Whichever sort of date you choose, our bachelor says you’ll be treated to a gourmet dinner prepared by a world-class French chef and a horseback ride. Ladies, I think he’s got that backward. What’s that they say? Save a horse, ride a cowboy?”
Serena cackles and nudges me, and I groan. It was a matter of time before somebody referenced that song.
“I promise, he’s a looker! Let’s bring him out. Jesse? Come on out here!”
My stomach drops to my feet.
No, not that Jesse. It can’t be.
Oh, but it is.
“That’s Nate’s dad,” I breathe.
Maisy does a spit take into her glass of wine. I’m too busy staring agape at the stage.
The auctioneer’s words start to sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher as I stare at the man who cleaned me out of donuts this morning. “Let’s start the bidding at $100!”
The bidding begins, and I quickly realize why Violetta saved this man for last. Is it me, or did the bidding reach five hundred dollars, lickety-split?
Half a dozen women are fighting over Nate’s dad. Women quite a bit older than me. I mean, of course, they’re fighting over him. I should let them have their fun. I really should.
And how often have I criticized older men for not dating women their age? A lot.
I can’t explain my rage listening to other women bid on this man.
My heart is thumping like a rabbit’s, and my gremlin brain wants to stick it to Nate if he’s watching this.
“Six hundred!” I shout. This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong. Am I doing it anyway? Yep. Looks like I am.
Serena’s mouth drops open, and she playfully slaps my shoulder. “Good for you.”
I try to play it cool. “Yeah, I need to get out of the bakery occasionally. Might be fun.” I reply.
The bids climb up to eight hundred. One woman taps out. Two other women are still going back and forth, and soon it’s in the range of a thousand.
I must be out of my mind.
“Twelve hundred!” I shout.
One of the bidders is standing a few rows ahead of me and shoots me a deadly look. I recognize a face from somewhere. Ugh.
“Ma’am? Counter bid?” The woman who shot me a dirty look shakes her head no at the auctioneer.
There’s only one other bidder and me.
“Twelve fifty!”
Dammit. I’m saving this money to put a down payment on the bakery building. I don’t want to keep paying rent on the commercial space downstairs and the residential area upstairs where I live.
Maisy shouts too loudly in her Texas twang, “Girl, are you gonna let Joyce have your man? That bitch already has every property in town!”
