He shrugged it off like the bite was nothing. “I told you, be your kinky self. I’m cool with it.”
I’d bit him and he still didn’t believe me. Was I that unbelievable?
“Baby,” he said, “right now, I just need to know that you’re gonna bid on me.” He smiled devilishly. “You’re going to bid on me, right? Because I want to go finish what we started, you sexy little vampire.”
Did he think this was role-play?
I nodded and smiled weakly. I would make him understand later, but for now Mariah B. Gary took the stage and tapped on the mic. “It’s time for everyone’s favorite part of the night, the SugarBoo bachelor auction! Gentlemen, take the stage. Ladies, get out your paddles.” She started singing “All I Want for Christmas Is You” as basically every man in Valentine walked onto the stage. This was not aMagic Mike–style auction, but a true charity event. Every dad bod in town was for sale.
Mariah took a break from singing. “Buy one of these guys for an evening and do your worst. Make him run errands, take your kids to soccer, or”—she shimmied her shoulders and threw the crowd a sexy look—“enjoy a candlelit dinner and…” She winked. “Just remember happy endings are not included.” She clapped a full-on grandpa in suspenders and a flannel shirt on the shoulder as she said this.
The grandpa laughed. “Unless you refill my prescription.”
Dr. Rosetti started laughing way too hard, so hard that she spilled her drink. The town’s vault of secrets appeared to be getting drunk.
Jessica flashed a smile my way. “Bidding?” she asked.
I nodded.
Mariah shifted from pimping out someone’s grandpa to a more formal introduction. “Let me remind everyone of the history of the SugarBoo bachelor auction. It started in the year of our lord 1987, when the maple syrup season was a bust because of inclement weather. The town councilhosted the first auction to get the local farmers through the season. The tradition continues today.”
Vlad sidled up next to me. “Why aren’t you up there?” I asked.
“My seven hundred years of sexual experience would be wasted on these country folk.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That’s not true. No one could use seven hundred years of cunnilingus practice more than these women.”
He huffed.
“Plus, it sounds like these ladies are shopping for someone to fill in at the carpool or fix a leaky sink.”
Vlad’s body grazed mine and he whispered, “I’m still waging a campaign to chaperone you and fix your leaky sinks, not to mention use my considerable cunnilingus training on you.”
I couldn’t say that didn’t send tingles to places I wouldn’t currently admit, but between Vlad and Tyrone, my senses were spinning out of control. With an imperious tone, I said, “Love is not a campaign to wage. It is not war.”
He angled his brows. “Then you haven’t been paying attention.”
Mariah called out, “It’s time to start the bidding. Our first bachelor is Pete. He’s one of Valentine’s brave firefighters. As a master of the flame, he knows how to heat things up.” Reading from a card, Mariah added, “He also brews his own beer and belongs to the church choir.”
“How about him?” I suggested to Jessica, selfishly trying to get rid of my competition for Tyrone.
“Do you think he’d repaint my stairwell?” she asked.
“I don’t know what you’re into, but I gave him a BDSM manual a few weeks ago.” I caught his eye and waved discreetly. Pete blushed furiously.
Jessica started choking on her drink. After she collected herself, she said, “Maybe he can paint my stairwell in a ball gag?”
“Why not?” It seemed fine to me.
Jessica bought him for seventy-five dollars.
After a few more bachelors had taken the stage, the spotlight shifted toTyrone. He walked to the front of the stage as a couple of older women hooted and hollered.
“Mmhmm!”
“Take me, Santa!”
“Santa’s coming tonight!” Valentine was showing the effects of the spiked eggnog. A little liquor, and I was seeing shades of LA.
