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He held his glass up in the air and swirled it. “This also has nice legs on it.”
I smoothed the skirt over my knees as we sat on a blanket on the beach. “Oh, well, thank you,” I teased with a laugh.
His eyes whipped to my legs. “Oh, I meant... I wasn’t insinuating that I...”
“Oh, I know. I’m sorry, I was just teasing. It was a joke.” Heat flooded my cheeks, but then Charles’s wide palm smoothed over my knee.
“I do appreciate those legs as well.”
I smiled and relaxed. There were times when it felt like Charles and I had nothing in common. Case in point: me trying to figure out how something that smelled like morning dew and rot was supposed to be an expensive glass of fancy French wine.
But then there were other times we could both relax and just be ourselves, and it felt much easier. Natural. I knew Charles was attracted to me, and I was certainly attracted to him. We had even kissed once in the back of his storeroom, and at the time it had felt really good. But since then there always seemed to be something between us. A barrier we couldn’t get past.
Around date five, which this impromptu beach date was, men got very prickly about my relationship with Lee. Charles had never mentioned Lee, which I also found a bit odd. It was no secret that Lee and I were close friends, but Charles seemed to always tactfully avoid the conversation regarding my friendship with the town’s playboy.
“So the Bluebird Book Club is finalizing details about the Matchmakers' Gala. Will you be attending?” I took another sip of the wine in an attempt to hide the nerves that tickled my belly.
“Of course. One of your lovely members reached out to see if I could sponsor some of the alcohol sales. I believe the hope is to offer a bit more variety than Abel King’s brewery. It seems that Outtatowner’s tastes have been slightly elevated.” Charles offered me a smile.
My fingertips twirled around the rim of my glass. “So you’re going, then?”
I was hoping he would pick up on the fact that I was quite literallydyingfor him to ask me to go as his date. “Did they also explain to you that a part of the gala is an auction?”
“She did.” He smiled. “In fact, I’m donating a few cases from my reserve for the auction. It’s a write-off for the business, and I’m always happy to extend money to charity.”
“That’s very generous of you. I’m sure they will earn a lot from that.” I looked down at the hemline of my skirt. “There’s also a date auction that you might not know about.” My eyes flicked up to his, and I willed myself to keep going. “Anyone who attends the gala without a date is entered into the date auction. So, for example, if I were to go without a date and someone like, say, you, bid on dates with me and won, then that money goes to the selected charity, and we have a set of prearranged dates.”
“That’s a bit archaic, isn’t it?” Charles frowned.
“It is, and trust me, some of us have been trying to get rid of it for years, but in reality, it makes a ton of money for the year’s selected charity, and there have been several marriage proposals as a direct result. In a grand finale, one couple is announced as ‘Top Couple.’ They get to present the funds raised to the charity,andreceive $10,000.” More times than not, that money went toward a pretty engagement ring, but I carefully left that tidbit out.
My thoughts immediately ran to my impending housing situation and how helpful that money would be to get my business idea up and running. It was well known that the majority, if not all, of the Top Couple prize money was a donation from the Kings, but pride be damned—I was desperate.
I looked at Charles. I coulddefinitelymake six dates with him work and convince the town that we were the top couple.
I shrugged, hoping to sound nonchalant and not the wound-up mess I was. “I think it’s just one of those things about Outtatowner that’s going to be around forever.”
Charles took what I shared about our quirky community. “These dates are put on by the Bluebirds?”
I smiled, proud to be a part of an exclusive club of women who essentially run the town under the guise of a book club. “We do. They’re usually really fun, quirky dates that bring everyone together. It’s a town spectacle more than anything.” I smiled, thinking about how I had seen more romantic marriage proposals in my lifetime than I ever thought possible. “But in the past it has always been a good time. Well ... if you get matched with someone good. Not Stumpy Larson.”
I gave him the abridged version of my series of unfortunate dates with Stumpy, and he shuddered.
“Exactly.” I laughed, finishing off the glass of wine. When I lowered it, I noticed Charles’s eyes taking in my empty glass. His glass was still half-full.
Shit.
I giggled. “It’s delicious.”
He lifted a new bottle. “Try this one. There are notes of seashell and pear. This wine is made from Melon de Bourgogne grapes grown on the Atlantic coast.”
I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip.
Still just tastes like wine.
Conversation flowed, and Charles went on about the region in which those particular grapes originated, and the topic of the Matchmakers' Gala seemed to fade away.
I only hoped I’d planted a seed and Charles would be willing to take a chance on me at the auction.
