Two thousanddollarsfor a date with Tate Bailey?
God, I’d pay that just to stare at him for a couple of hours without being creepy.
Nah. It’d still be creepy.
“Twenty-five.” This was from another couple. Ah, the Olsons. Knowing them, they weren’t looking for yard work either.
“Twenty-six,” Hannah said, less confident this time.
“Twenty-nine.”
My mind spun, listening to the bids. But relief flowed through me too. I’d harbored a secret crush on Tate, and if I’d come here to bid on him, I would’ve been wiped out after the first bid.
Following the relief was a dismal cloud settling in. He’d go on a date. Everyone would talk about it. Then he’d go on more. He’d been in town for a year and hadn’t been out beyond running errands and taking his kid to the bar and grill, but people talked about his prowess “back in the day.” They also discussed his postdivorce love life before he’d moved into his mountain cabin on his family’s land. Apparently, it was juicy enough to ride the small-town grapevine the forty miles from Bozeman to Bourbon Canyon.
I let out a long sigh. The bids were up to five grand.
Could I leave mid–bidding war? Claim I had to use the bathroom and walk home to my small rental house? A documentary on a serial killer would be better than watching the guy I’d dreamed about walking out with another woman.
Hannah rallied and shouted, “Ten thousand!”
Silence fell. I thought the first guy going for eight hundred was obscene—yet quite generous. This was for charity. If I kept that thought forefront in my mind, maybe I wouldn’t consume my weight in chocolate-covered almonds tonight.
“Ten thousand to Hannah!” Wilna scanned the audience. “Going once…”
Summer brandished her paddle. “Eleven.”
What? Everyone had turned to stare at us, but I kept my head down. I was used to a class of kids eyeing me. But anyone else and I wanted to melt through the floor. It’d been worse since my breakup two years ago.
My ex’s words rang in my mind.You’re just…uninspiring.
Summer’s foot bobbed up and down, the only sign all the attention was getting to her.
Was she trying to get her brother to be her bitch for a day?
I snuck a peek at the front. Tate’s dark brows were drawn together, and he was giving his sister aWhat the hell?look.
Wilna beamed. “Eleven?—”
“Twelve,” Hannah snapped before Wilna could finish.
“Fifteen,” Summer countered.
Hannah’s nostrils flared. “S-sixteen.”
I almost felt bad for her. She wasn’t a mean person, but she was forward, especially with the men in town, which didn’t make her a fan of their significant others.
Summer fanned her paddle in the air. “Twen-ty,” she said in a singsong voice like she could bid all night.
“Oh. Say.” Wilna tapped her fingers together like hundred-dollar bills were falling from the sky. They sort of were. “Twenty thousand. Going once… Going twice… Sold. Tate Bailey to…” She ran her finger down her chart of names.
“Scarlett Breen.”
* * *
Tate
My stunned gazewent from my sister to the woman shrinking into the bench next to her.
