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“Let’s get this party started!”
The song “I’m too Sexy,” by Right Said Fred begins to play, and the older ladies start dancing and swaying.
The guys strut across the stage. Evan is first, wearing a tight black t-shirt, while Beth dances along in the front row, holding one baby and rocking the other in a stroller. She waves and whistles at him; he turns and shakes his butt and winks at her. The room erupts in laughter and cheers, and everyone is clapping.
Ty comes out next, dressed in his blue coveralls with his ball cap on backward. He struts and waves at Mellie as he turns and heads back. One of the old ladies glares at another one and does two fingers to her eyes at another lady, staking her claim on Ty. This is so hilarious to watch. I’m almost doubled over with laughter.
Logan’s next, in his button-down shirt and dark jeans. He waves at Allie, who’s dancing alongside the stage, waving. He has a stack of romance novels in his arms and passes them out to the women in the front row like he’s handing out prizes. One of the women swoons and holds the book to her chest.
Now Preston struts out in his perfectly fitted navy-blue suit with a crisp white shirt and navy tie. When he turns, the energy shifts, and I can’t stop looking at him. Seeing other people swoon over him makes me strangely territorial. I’ve spent every day for the past several weeks with him, and it feels like he’s mine. Which, when I think about it, sounds completely irrational. But I can’t help it.
Several firefighters wearing helmets go next. They’re dressed in yellow suspender pants and navy t-shirts withFreedom Valleyon the back. They all line up and do a little dance together, which has everyone laughing even harder. They pause for pictures for the calendar, flexing their biceps.
The bidding begins, and Evan and Ty are among the first to get grabbed up.
When it’s Preston’s turn, all these ladies start to elbow each other and inch closer. What the heck? I don’t like this. I don’t care if it’s an all in good fun picnic or not. I will break a hip if I need to. My eyes scan the crowd for Mellie. I find her and grab her arm.
“I need your help.” I’m frantic at this point. I know they mean no harm, but I see a few of the younger women inching closer, too, with their paddles ready. The hell they will. Nope. All of a sudden, I have this overpowering urge to bid on him and win him.
“What?” she asks, wrinkling her brow.
“I need you to win Preston for me. Please.”
A grin spreads on her face, and she leans over and looks at one of the elderly women who’s passed out in a wheelchair but still holding her paddle. Mellie reaches over and gently slides it out of her hand. She grins at me.
One of the other older ladies shakes her head at Mellie disapprovingly, seeing what she’s done. Mellie looks at her and says, “Free produce for a month.” The lady shrugs and nods and turns back around again. Problem solved. I knew I loved Mellie. She’s a problem-solver.
“Okay, next up, we have Freedom Valley’s newest, most eligible bachelor, our very own Preston Steele. Preston, come on down,” Allie says into the microphone.
“Twenty-five dollars,” one of the older ladies croaks out in a raspy smoker voice.
Preston smiles politely as his eyes roam the room and land on me. Yep, way hotter in here.
“One hundred dollars,” another says, waving her paddle.
Allie’s eyes widen. “We have one hundred dollars.”
“I can’t do over a hundred,” Mellie whispers apologetically.
A quiet buzz fills the room, and people turn and are staring at a few of the single ladies up front who look like they’re ready to win an all-out bidding war.
My eyes go back to Preston. His are locked on me. He looks like he wants to stalk across this room and reenact the hot tub scene. And I’m fine with that. My eyes burn back into his, and I hold steady until he looks away and then back at me again.
“Five hundred,” one of the younger ladies in the front row shouts, smiling as she waves her paddle at Preston. I have no idea who this woman is either, and fear pulls through my chest. No. She can’t win him.
“Are you okay?” Mellie asks, looking at me worriedly.
“No,” I stammer. “He’s a jerk, but he’s my jerk!”
Before Mellie can reply, another woman sitting next to the single lady in the front row—another woman who looks about my age—cries out, “One thousand.”
“All right, we have a thousand,” Allie says. “Do we have any more?”
“Two thousand,” another calls out.
“He’ssohandsome,” one of the women says and fans herself with her paddle.
“Oh no,” I say under my breath and look at Preston as he’s watching me very intently.
