“I’ve heard of pumpkin carving,” I said. “But I’ve never heard of gourd carving.”
“Time-honored tradition,” Muddy said as she approached the table with her arms full of gourds. “Eloise has the touch for growing them. In fact, the woman can’t grow anything else, but it doesn’t matter. Every October she supplies the entire town with gourds. Which one did you carve?”
I lifted the gourd in question into the air.
“Nice,” she said.
The crispy autumn air teased my cheeks and when it brushed against my neck I shivered.
Brooks turned up the collar of my jacket and let his hands rest on the lapels.
Jo and Gary Calhoun were chatting with Grampy, who looked completely at ease in his new small-town life. Between the poker games and making a daily appearance at Sweet Teeth, the town had quickly grown accustomed to my Brooklyn-accent-having, no-bullshit grandfather.
I was glad to have him close.
“Which basket is yours?” Muddy asked Brooks.
“The one with the blue ribbon on it,” he said in embarrassment. “I still don’t get why the men have to make baskets and their women have to bid on them.”
“The Belly Basket Auction is a time-honored tradition,” Muddy explained. “You put anything in there besides saltines and ginger beer?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Her hazel gaze settled on me. “How you feeling, sugar?”
“Happy.” I looked up at Brooks when I said it. “With a touch of morning sickness.”
Brooks wrapped me in his arms again, my back pressing into his chest as his large hands settled on my still flat belly.
“I promised Wyn we’d get some videos for her,” I said. “But I keep forgetting.”
“Lucy’s on it.”
I nodded my chin in the direction of an attractive blonde with a digital camera pressed to her face. “She’s on it too. Whoever she is.”
“That’s Arden,” Muddy said. “She owns a photography business in town. You guys better get in place. The auction is about to start.”
Brooks and I ambled toward Hadley and Salem. Hadley’s face was pinched in pain, and she placed a hand at her back as she began to rub it.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered. “Let’s get the show on the road, yeah?”
My normally easygoing and chipper friend was clearly having a day.
Declan didn’t say anything, he just dropped his hand from her shoulder and walked away. A few moments later, he returned with a chair. Hadley shot him a grateful look and then sat down.
“You want a chair, tater tot?” Cas asked Salem.
She shook her head. “I’m good.”
Gary Calhoun, the owner of Dark Timber Ranch, took the stage with a podium and a gavel. On the table next to him were all the baskets that the men of Huckleberry Hill had made for their women to bid on in the name of charity.
Gary banged the gavel, and everyone began to quiet down and pay attention.
“Thank you for coming to Dark Timber Ranch for the annual Belly Basket Auction and Barn Dance. We’re here for a great cause. All proceeds will be donated to the Huckleberry Hill Women’s Shelter. Remember, the first bid can’t be your wife or girlfriend. That spoils the fun.”
He picked up a wicker basket with a braided handle. “Bidding will start at five dollars.”
“It’s worth more than five bucks,” a man called out to let everyone know it was his basket.
