Page 116 of 10 Things I Hate About Mistletoe

Anthony smiled at her, holding his arms out to the side. “What do you think?”

“Um, no.”

Anthony laughed, the discoloration from the bruise on his cheek nearly faded. “What do you mean no?”

“You are not going out there looking like a snack in front of a roomful of horny women. My pockets are not deep enough to fight off the rabid hordes.”

“It’s just a suit,” Anthony said, snaking his arm around her waist, his mouth grazing the shell of her ear. “Meanwhile, I can’t stop thinking about getting you out of that little black dress later tonight.”

Delilah shivered because she was just as eager to get him home and have him all to herself. They’d been good this week, allowing each other to rest and heal, but it was well past time for her to get the full effect of Anthony Russo’s unrestrained passion, especially if their time together was running out. She wanted to have the memory of him giving her every last part of him to keep her warm in her sad, lonely years.

“Ten minutes to curtain,” Merry yelled, making her way through the throngs of bachelors. When she spotted Delilah, she pointed. “You are supposed to be by the door!”

“I actually traded with Nick,” Delilah said unabashedly. “I should be serving food or something.”

“Then get out of here and do that!” Merry roared, pointing at Anthony. “No canoodling with the merchandise until he is bought and paid for!”

“Way to dehumanize me, Merry,” Anthony called after her, earning a finger for his cheek.

Delilah sighed. “I better go before she comes back and boots me altogether.”

“I love you,” he said. Those three little words sounded like the sweetest melody and she wanted to hear them again.

“I love you.”

“And I’d love it if the two of you weren’t quite so nauseating,” Pike said, grabbing his tie and pulling it over his head. “Please go before I hang myself.”

“That’s rude,” Delilah said, making a face at Pike, “but I will go because I need to hit the ATM again. I want to be ready when they call your name.”

“Good luck,” Anthony said, green eyes sparkling and beautiful. If she were a man, or at the very least, a woman who lifted, Delilah would have thrown him over her shoulder and carried him out of there. As it was, she would just have to contend with the swarms of pick me’s thinking he was up for grabs.

Delilah pushed through the sea of people, almost snickering when she spotted Brodie’s face wasn’t quite as healed as Anthony’s or Pike’s wounds. Although it wasn’t the first time a man had targeted her looks after she’d turned him down, it was such a low blow that she didn’t feel the least bit bad for him. He deserved the puffy lip and bruised ego.

Delilah relieved Nick from door duty once more, although he gave her plenty of side-eye as he retreated toward the kitchen. Luckily, the flow of traffic had become slower and less dense, as it was a few minutes to nine.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Merry greeted the room from onstage, a black wireless mic in her hand. She wore a long black dress that hid her adorable baby bump until she turned to the side. “Please find a seat and get ready for an evening of charity, conversation, and Mistletoe’s finest bachelors!” The room erupted with excited screams and Delilah shot Holly a “what the heck did we agree to” look.

The lights flickered and music exploded from the speakers, signaling the start of the show, and everyone who was still standing started moving at once, scrambling to find their seats. Merry came back on the mic, waving at the crowd. “Thank you, everyone. This evening, I have the pleasure of introducing you to some of Mistletoe’s finest specimens of the male species. Handsome. Hardworking. Intelligent. Athletic?” The last was said with a playfully suggestive tone and the crowd woo-hooed, only quieting down when Merry continued. “Remember that every bachelor is a prize and that we are raising money for our children and our community so dig deep and bid hard. Are you ready?”

The crowd erupted with wild hoots and hollers, until Merry read the first name. “Sam Griffin, come on out. Sam is a thirty-eight-year-old tattoo artist with ambitions to own a shop of his own again. He is over six feet with dreamy eyes and tattoos in all the right places. Shall we start the bidding at twenty-five dollars?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Thirty!”

“Forty!”

The rapid fire of the bids were too fast to keep up with who was bidding what. Several more paddles flew into the air and Delilah watched the exchange nervously. She did not want to walk out of here tonight without Anthony, but these women were like ravenous wolves.

Maybe it was just Sam. He was a bad-boy commodity with a reputation and a huge fan base in Mistletoe. This type of bidding could be reserved for him and guys like him.

Holly came up alongside her and bumped her with a hip. “You’re looking nervous again.”

“I’m fine.”

“Does Anthony know you’re losing your place?” Holly asked, distracting her from the flurry of paddles.

“Yes, I mentioned it last night.”