I took a step closer, squeezing her hand rather than dropping it. “Whatever you want, Saffron.”
She removed her fingers from my grasp. “I should get back to the table.”
“Wait!” I called out when she spun around and stalked away. When she didn’t stop, I hurried and got in front of her. “Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”
Her brow furrowed. “I said I’d tell you after.”
“Whatever it is must be a doozy, then,” I joked. Not that her expression indicated she found it funny.
When she walked away again, I let her go, then circled around to the bar. My bourbon sat waiting, and when I didn’t see the bartender, I tossed it back and dropped a twenty, determined to get to the bottom of what was up with Saffron before the night came to an end.
Rather than take a seat, I stood in the archway, listening as Alex announced the name of the first bachelor. That I’d never even heard of the guy had to mean I was too old for this shit. Next year, I’d turn my sister down flat. Five years was fucking enough, especially since the money she raised from my bid came out of my own pocket. Not that I minded. I’d still donate that much or more if she’d let me off the hook of this farce.
The early bachelors went quickly. A tech entrepreneur sold for four thousand to a wine industry venture capitalist’s daughter, and a sommelier Alex had convinced to come up from Santa Barbara fetched five grand from a local restaurant owner. The next guy up, whose family had purchased one of the larger vineyard estates last year, caused a minor bidding war between three women that ended at twelve thousand with a lot of good-natured laughter. The rest, I tuned out.
“And now, ladies, a crowd favorite returning for his fifth year. My brother tried to hide in the back, but we see you, Snapper! Come on up here!” Alex’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
I made my way to the stage, shaking my head at her theatrics. Rather than take a direct route, I weaved my way through the tables, past where the Hopes sat.
“Got your paddle ready?” I whispered in Saffron’s ear.
“She told me she’s starting the bidding at twenty thousand,” Felicity teased.
“I’m worth at least double that, right?” I nudged Saffron, and she rolled her eyes. I counted that as a win. Anything was better than another half-assed grin.
“Salazar ‘Snapper’ Avila,” my sister began as I got closer to the stage. “Is a championship team roper, an accomplished winemaker, and yes, ladies, he’s single. Though I should mention he’s currently recovering from a shoulder injury, so maybe keep the date activities low-impact.” She paused to give the audience time to laugh.
“Thanks for making me sound fragile, Alex,” I said into the microphone, wishing she’d just get on with it so I could head back over to Saffron’s table.
“Bidding starts at five thousand dollars,” Alex announced.
“Ten thousand.” Isabel’s response cut through the room.
“Twelve thousand,” called another woman, who I couldn’t see through the bright stage lights but knew wasn’t Saffron.
“Fifteen.” Isabel countered.
The bids went back and forth, each one upping a grand, but by twenty thousand, most had given up, and Saffron hadn’t bid once.
“We have a bid of twenty. Anyone want to raise it to twenty-five?” Alex called out.
“I will,” said Isabel, even though hers was the last bid.
“Twenty-five thousand going once,” Alex started.
Just when I started to get nervous, Saffron raised her paddle. “Thirty.”
Isabel’s head turned in that direction as if to challenge her. “Thirty-five thousand.”
“Forty.”
“Fifty.” A minute ago, Isabel had sounded bored. Now, she was annoyed.
Saffron raised her paddle. “Sixty.”
Isabel pushed away from the table and stood. “Seventy thousand.”
I looked out at Saffron, who, for the first time, was looking at me. I raised a brow.
