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I kicked a rock in the driveway and watched it skitter across the dirt into the scrubby grass. “I hate this town.”
“You love this town,” he retorted, smacking my arm. “You and my brother are the only people I know who’ve never once contemplated leaving.”
I sighed. He was right—I truly did love it here.
For one thing, I felt incredibly grateful for the bounty my ancestors had provided me and my family on this land. Our large property had sustained the Jackson clan as far back as anyone around here could remember. We owned acres of farmland, old growth and pine forest, three large ponds, and over a mile of river frontage. When I’d gotten the idea to start a flower and houseplant business, my granddad had parceled off several acres for me and helped me earn enough money to fund the first season of seeds and supplies.
And for another… well, I loved the people in this place. Thicketeers were generally a kind and openhearted bunch who meant well, even if their plans sometimes went spectacularly awry. I could even admit to myself that I kinda liked our weird traditions and festivals. Usually.
“Remember, you don’t have to bid on someone because you’re madly in love with them. I heard Ferdy Gaskins is gonna be in the auction, and you could have him take pictures of the barn as your date,” Brooks offered helpfully. “Or you could bid on Melanie Higgins. She’s a kickass plumber, and she’d probably help you install new faucets. Orrrr you could offer for Vivek Kaur,” Brooks added in a sly voice. “I have no idea what he’s good at, but word on the street is that he’s single, so maybe you could use your date to, you know, find out.”
I glared at him. “The apple clearly hasn’t fallen far from Cindy Ann’s tree, Brooks Johnson.”
Brooks laughed unrepentantly as he took his keys from his pocket and jingled them. “I’m just passing on information, Hunter. How you use it is up to you.”
“So generous. You know what? I will go tonight, but I will not be bidding on a date. Instead, I’ll make sure the whole town knows I’m buying two grand worth of castrations in your name. Maybe they’ll rename the affair the Brooks Johnson Castration Celebration in your honor.”
“You’re a true friend.” Brooks shot me the bird as he headed for his truck. “Asshole.”
“Love you too, boo! Don’t say I never gave you nothing.”
“Better get washed up and purty,” he called back. “I hear Melvin Murkle’s up for auction too. He got his dentures polished as soon as my mom asked him to be one of the bachelors. It’s fate, really.”
I tried unsuccessfully to hold back a laugh. “Tell your mom if Melvin’s willing to remove them altogether, I’ll pay extra,” I called before both of us finally shut our respective vehicle doors.
Then, I headed home for the world’s fastest shower and headed over to the community barn.
Apparently, I had a Biddin’ to get to.
“Why are you wearing a sweater?” my sister greeted me with a suspicious glint in her eyes. “And you smell nice. What’s going on?”
“I’m wearing a sweater because it’s cold as tits outside, and I smell like Safeguard bar soap because it was better than stinking like sweat and sawdust from the renovation work.”
She let out a little squeal of excitement. “Oh! Is the event space almost ready? Can I come see it? Will you meet me out there tomorrow?”
Before I had a chance to answer, our mother came shuffling over in kitten heels and a blinking pumpkin light necklace. Her black curls were sprayed into their usual helmet shape, and her electric-blue eyeliner displayed the heavy-handed effect she adopted for “special occasions.”
Fortunately for those who held stock in Maybelline, my mom thought most occasions were “special.”
“You have to bid tonight, kids. I insist.” Her eyes darted furtively around the room. “Cindy Ann has it from Tucker, who heard it from Carter Rogers, that some bigwig from out of town is planning on outbidding everyone for Quinn Taffet so Quinn can plan his daughter’s wedding. Lord knows why Champ didn’t object to his man volunteering for the auction, but it’s going to help out the charity big-time.”
She turned her gaze on me and narrowed her eyes until they looked like electric-blue slashes beneath her dark eyebrows. “According to the pamphlet, there are at least three gay men for sale tonight. This is your opportunity, Hunter. You ain’t gettin’ any younger, baby doll.”
I set my jaw. “You’ve pointed out every gay man in town to me at least three times,” I reminded her. “If I wasn’t interested in dating them before, I’m sure as heck not paying for a date with them in front of the whole town.”
“Hmph.” She sniffed delicately and put her chin in the air. “In that case, perhaps some generous soul will buy one for you. Like a present. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
