I coughed on a laugh. Summer giggled next to me and Autumn pinched the bridge of her nose. I’d rather be at the bar and grill downtown than here. It wasn’t often the three of us could get together. Autumn was a teacher at the same school as me, but Summer lived and worked in Bozeman at the family distillery.
“She’ll never get tired of that joke,” Autumn muttered.
The distillery had gotten its start in Bourbon Canyon with the Baileys’ grandparents, hence the name of the town. And hence Wilna’s joke.
The first bachelor was up. He was the janitor at the church and the elementary school, married, and auctioning off his handyman skills. An older couple that lived on a ranch outside of city limits won his bid for an amount that made me choke.
Damn. How much would Tate go for?
How much did I have in the bank?
No.No.
I wasn’t here to bid. I didn’t have a paddle. That was that.
Another guy walked to the podium. A local cop who had offered a day of yard work.
Maybe I should’ve bid. My lawn was in bad shape, and I had an acrimonious relationship with my lawn mower.
Could he fix roofs?
Didn’t matter. The whole no-money thing was the deciding factor.
With each auction, Wilna ran her finger down a list to check attendees’ names against their paddle numbers before calling out the winner. She could name each person in the audienceandwhen they’d been born, but she’d always been a stickler for routine.
Summer bounced her leg next to me. Was she nervous? Did she have her eye on abachelorbachelor? She’d never mentioned having the hots for anyone in town.
After seven men had been bid on and won, Tate walked up to the podium. My heart rate kicked up. He’d kept to his jeans-and-flannel look. His green-plaid shirt lightened his dark eyes. The way he clasped his hands in front of him looked casual, but tension rode across his shoulders.
I almost felt guilty for visually devouring him while no one could see. Everyone’s eyes were on him.
What a dessert. I could lick him upside down and sideways.
But he wasn’t mine. He’d be some other girl’s lucky date.
Would he take them to the bar and grill? Or out to the massive cabin he’d built on family land? Did he have some epically romantic ideas in mind, or was he the type to pick up a girl, doze through a movie, then expect her to put out after his minimal effort?
I was projecting. A mediocre date with Tate would probably blow my best date out of the water, but then it wasn’t hard to win over the one that had ended with “Babe, you sure you want to add a dessert onto what you just ate?”
I studied all the single women in the crowd, my jealousy ratcheting up. My attention caught on a few married ladies tapping their paddles against their hands. This could get ugly.
Tate Bailey might be worth it.
When he’d moved back to town, the chatter had been unhinged. Star high school football wide receiver. Valedictorian. Big brother to “all those poor kids”—his foster siblings. He had two biological brothers too, but Tate was the mystery. He’d moved away after high school, earned his degree, and worked at the main distillery, and then when his dad had gotten sick, he’d come home to take over the ranch. Local golden boy swoops back home to roost.
“Tate Bailey is our last bachelor. He’s offering a date—an entire day and on into the evening for the winner.” Wilna’s grin was wide. Dollar signs were in her eyes. “Open bid.”
“One thousand!” a woman yelled from the front, her paddle waving in the air with a number one. Had she camped outside before the doors opened?
Wilna knew the woman’s name, but she checked her sheet once again. “One thousand from Hannah Kline.”
“Fifteen hundred.” Another woman brandished her paddle.
“Sixteen hundred.”
“Eighteen.”
“Two.”
