AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No,” I said firmly. “It would not. Don’t even think about it.”
“I didn’t say me, Hunter, I said someone. Possibly someone anonymous who has a vested interest in your happiness.” She patted her shellacked curls, as though any of them would ever dare droop out of place.
I opened my mouth to retort, but Alana, ever the peacemaker, cut in. “Just think,” she said softly. “If you make your own bid, you could choose some big, strapping SOB, and your ‘date’ could be refinishing the barn floor. Romantic, eh?”
I snorted. This was very reminiscent of the conversation I’d had with Brooks. I hadn’t taken the suggestion seriously when he’d made it, but if it had the added benefit of getting my mother off my back…
“That’s not a bad idea,” I admitted.
Mom threw up her hands. Orange glitter nail polish caught the light and nearly blinded me. “I give up. The two of you are more interested in proving yourselves clever in the career department than settling down and making a family. I hope you realize that your plants and your event barn and your… your… whatever your next get-rich-quick scheme is will never take care of you in your old age!”
Alana slid her arm through mine and squeezed. “Yes, but wealthy entrepreneurs can afford to hire full-time staff, Mother. And I, for one, would rather have a licensed medical professional looking after me in my sunset years than some resentful br—”
“Kid!” I said, cutting her off before she could provoke our mother into a super-snit. One of Alana’s greatest joys was giving our mom the false impression she didn’t want children. The truth of the matter was my sister and I both dreamed about marrying and raising families. But we’d wanted to be financially secure first.
Now, though, my nursery business had finally leveled up to the point where I had five full-time employees (and triple that number in the high season), and there was a light at the end of the tunnel with the barn renovation. So maybe it was time to admit—to myself and never, ever to my mother—that I did want something more… and that the impossibility of the situation was making me tetchy.
The trouble was, as I’d explained to Brooks, pickings were slim in the Thicket, no matter how many people Cindy Ann had on her roster. I’d grown up with many of the gay men in town, and they felt more like brothers than potential romantic partners. Others had dated my friends over the years, and I knew way too many of their red flags to ever date them myself. Not to mention, the second I set my sights on anyone in the Thicket, I’d practically be inviting the Thicket’s busybodies and matchmakers—including my mom—even further into my personal business than they’d already invited themselves.
No, thank you.
I’d come up with a different plan. Eventually. But in the meantime…
“I’ll bid on someone tonight, Mom,” I promised.
She still looked suspicious of my motives—and rightly so—but let out a breath and patted her hair again. “Thank you, Hunter.” She turned her narrowed gaze on Alana. “At least someone around here cares about their mother.”
Thankfully, she stormed off before catching sight of Alana’s epic eye roll.
My sister craned her neck to see who was lining up to take the stage for the bachelor and bachelorette presentations.
I’d never bid on anyone before, but I sure as hell had enjoyed watching others do it. The whole town remembered the time Hetty Donaldson paid one dollar for a night with Victor Andréas just to lecture him for three hours on the proper way to slice her roast beef at the deli counter. Or the time Dunn Johnson had bid a thousand dollars to take his own husband on a date and told everyone it was because their pet pig Bernadette was “a sensitive soul who might be confused if she heard Tuck was spending time with another man, and I care too much about my livestock to upset them that way.” Or the time Princess Williams paid five hundred bucks so her boyfriend would put up the Christmas lights. Or the year the Powell triplets bid on dates with the Driscoll twins and the mayor insisted the high school math teacher stop the bidding long enough to give a simple math lesson.
No matter what happened—and there was an unspoken agreement it was all in good fun—it was bound to be entertaining. I knew all these folks, and they knew me, I reminded myself. I needed to stop taking this thing so seriously.
Alana and I made our way up front while having a brief, hushed discussion about which of the “bachelors” on auction we should choose.
“I say go for Gracie Mawbry,” Alana insisted as she dragged me through the last of the crowd. “She redid her own floors last year, so she gets the vibe I want, and… Ooof. What the heck, Hunter? You stopped so fast I nearly face-planted into the folding chairs. Are you…? Ohhh.”
