“Uh-uh. Don’t you dare start this, because you’re just going to get emotional and ruin your makeup.”
“I know. I’m so scared, D.”
“Don’t be. Just go out there first. You haven’t even procured a bidder, and you’re worried about the wedding.” She chuckled.
“What if they don’t bid on me?”
“They will. I have strategically placed someone out there to bid on anyone who doesn’t get a bid,” she declared, winking at me.
“Damaris Stevens!”
“Just kidding. Seriously, though, just go out there and be beautiful. When you do go on a date, look at it as a onetime commitment. Have fun and think nothing else about it. You owe yourself that.”
I smiled as someone knocked on the door. “It’s time,” Erin called out.
“Come on, let’s go,” Damaris stated, tugging me toward the door.
I walked into the conference room and greeted our other guests.
“My apologies for being late, ladies and gentlemen, but I was having a mini meltdown in my office.”
“Oh, Delaney, you’re going to be fine. This is an awesome thing that the museum is doing, and I’m excited to help out,” Lloyd Simmons, the owner of the local mall, stated.
“Me too, but like Delaney, I did have a meltdown today on the way over,” Charity Cole, the bookstore owner, confessed.
And just like that, the entire room started talking about their experiences before tonight and their expectations of the night. One by one, Erin and Chase called participants’ names and led us to the stage where Damaris and Yogi introduced each person one at a time. The auctioneer would then begin the bidding process on the person standing on stage.
I watched as the bids went on and on, and I was happy for each person who received excellent bids. I was definitely happyfor the museum, but my nerves grew tighter the closer it came to my time to be called.
Damaris called my name last, and she had already prepared me for that. I stepped out onto the stage under the sparkling lights. I could only see the first few rows of tables with guests, but not any of the guests in the middle of the auditorium or at the rear.
I listened as Damaris introduced me and hyped up who I was. That was what besties were for, but this wasn’t the time for that. The auctioneer we hired started the bid at ten-thousand-dollars as he had done everyone else’s. I listened as the bid climbed, but then it jumped from sixteen grand to forty grand. From there, the bid continued to rise, and my heart stammered hard in my chest.
It continued until it stopped at two-hundred-fifty grand. I was shocked and rooted to the floor, wondering who had that type of money, and why did they want a date with me so badly. My bid was the highest bid out of all the bachelors and bachelorettes of the night. The second closest bid was one-hundred grand.
I left the stage feeling stunned when Damaris motioned for me to do so. Despite the chatter between Chase, Erin, and Yogi, I heard nothing. I couldn’t fathom who’d spend that sort of money to have a date with me, even if it was for the museum. Although everyone was happy for me, including the other business leaders, I had a sick feeling that something good wasn’t coming my way.
“Are you ready to meet your date?” Damaris asked twenty minutes later.
I knew she had been thanking the other guests, pairing them with their dates, and checking in with the staff tasked with taking payments for tonight’s auction.
“Girl, yes, because I cannot imagine who would do this.”
“Stop acting like that. You’re beautiful, fine, intelligent, and successful. Any man would be lucky to have you, and I’ve seen him. He’s damn good looking.”
“I don’t know about successful. Clayton’s ass wiped me out.”
I had taken a loan out to pay everything the judge had given him in the divorce settlement. Now I was still repaying the loan.
I followed Damaris to meet my date, and my feet were rooted to the floor the minute that I laid eyes on him. She was right. He was fine and good-looking as hell. At six feet and just over two hundred pounds, the brother was everything any woman would want. His smooth gingerbread-colored skin tone was one most women attempted to achieve with thousands of beauty products, and his body looked great in his suit.
Before he turned my way, I took in that short, upturned nose that looked like he looked down on people because of it, the downturned, heart-shaped lips that had a fuller bottom one, and the low, wavy haircut that was faded on the sides.
I watched as he pulled his fingers over that full mustache and stroked them down to finger comb his shiny, bushy beard. His double silver hoops in the left ear shone brilliantly, even under the dim recessed lighting. Then he turned those chestnut-brown, almond-shaped eyes my way, and I wanted to scream, but they lit up like the night sky.
The man himself was more dangerous than the fabled dragons wrapped around a dahlia and tattooed on his neck just above the collar of his dress shirt. He gripped the ivory carved handle of his cane and squeezed it tightly. I wondered, not for the first time, if that limp he sported had something to do with that extra heavy package he seemed to be carrying in his pants. Then I rolled my eyes and shook my head. My traitorous body would not have me falling for the enemy.
When he caught my gaze, I noticed that he fingered the scar on the upper lobe of his left ear. I was sure that it was a nervoustick that he had because I had seen him do it once before, at my divorce hearing.
