“Are you serious? You nearly spent forty thousand dollars, and you still want to bid on other things?”
“It’s an auction. It’s for a good cause.” Noah plucked the program out of her hand. “There’s a barbecue in here somewhere that Mabel told me about.”
Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “Have you cooked a meal on a barbecue in the last ten years?”
“Of course I have,” Noah muttered.
If his nose could have grown, it would be as long as his arm.
Cassie pointed to lot thirty-two. “It’s there. If you win the barbecue, I want a picture of the first meal you cook on it.”
For some reason, Noah looked incredibly smug. “Deal.”
John banged his gavel on the desk and the next item appeared on the stage.
Before Cassie knew what was happening, she was in a bidding war for two baskets of preserved pickles and jams.
If Cassie thoughtNoah’s bids on the painting were extreme, she was in for a shock. Because, regardless of how much he had to pay, he was winning the next item.
Pastor John banged his gavel. “Lot twenty-six consists of a beautiful piece of jewelry created by C.J. Davis. Cassie’s lovely gold, pearl, and diamond necklace has graced the cover of Marie Claire. It also featured in an article about up-and-coming artists of the twenty-first century. I have a pre-auction bid for five thousand dollars. Do I have another bid in the room?”
Cassie’s mouth dropped open. “Who would have placed a bid for—”
“Six thousand,” Noah yelled.
The room erupted in applause.
“No,” Cassie hissed. “You can’t buy my jewelry.”
“Yes, I can.”
Pastor John looked at one of the volunteers. She had a cell phone to her ear, bidding on behalf of another person.
The volunteer stuck her hand in the air. “Six thousand five hundred.”
Cassie’s head swiveled back to Noah. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Ten thousand.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Cassie was almost hyperventilating. “That’s too much money.”
“Ten thousand five hundred.”
Noah settled in for the long haul. “Eleven thousand.”
While the audience was clapping and cheering, Cassie sent him a ferocious scowl. “This is ridiculous. I’ll make you another necklace. You can donate some money to The Welcome Center.”
“It’s my bid,” he reminded her, “and I don’t like losing.”
Cassie’s gaze darted to the volunteer who was on the phone. “Think of it as a strategic retreat. But whatever you do, don’t go any higher.”
The volunteer’s hand rose. “Eleven thousand two hundred.”
Noah looked at the picture of the necklace on the data projector. Two rows of cream pearls came together in an art deco clasp of polished gold. Small diamonds shone from the clasp and wound their way through another strand of smaller pearls, adding sparkle and drama, and something even more special to the design.
Whether Cassie agreed with the bid or not, he wouldn’t be going home without it. “Twelve thousand.”
She brought the auction program up to her face and hid behind it. “This can’t be happening.”
