Singled Out

Chapter 2

Istepped away from the bar with my vodka cranberry and took in the room at large.

The ballroom of the Marks Hotel was decorated elegantly with colored fairy lights against a midnight blue backdrop, silver accents that picked up the array of colors, and centerpieces made of unique-shaped bottles with more fairy lights inside, arranged on a splash of silver confetti. The sum of it all illustrated the “Art Lights Up Lives” theme perfectly.

The townspeople of Dragonfly Lake had embraced the event and sold out the three-hundred-ticket fundraiser to benefit arts in education. They’d shown up in summery cocktail dresses for the women, a wide range of attire for the men, and good spirits. I’d finally settled on a short sequined fuchsia dress with a halter-style neckline, because I couldn’t wear a boring black dress to an event celebrating color.

Naomi would love the hell out of this. It was exactly as she would have wanted it.

I felt the familiar, raw pang of grief in my chest at the thought of her. Instead of shoving it down deep as I often did, I took a full breath, picturing my friend and mentor with her beautiful smile. Just for a second.

“Cheers, Naomi,” I whispered, the corners of my eyes damp. I lifted my cocktail slightly, then took a drink.

I made my way back to my table, dabbing at my eyes, glad for the low light, smiling at people as I walked by.

Dessert had been served while I was in line for my drink, I noticed as I retook my seat next to Loretta Lawson, the town’s sixty-something gossip queen with a mostly good heart.

“Harper, hon, I didn’t know if you wanted dessert, so I just told them to give you some. Dakota too,” Loretta said. “If you don’t want it, I’ll sacrifice my figure and eat it for you.”

Laughing, I eyed the picture-perfect slice of lemon meringue pie. It was Naomi’s favorite, as I’d told the event planners when they’d asked. “I prefer to drink my dessert tonight,” I told Loretta, pushing the plate toward her.

“Bless your heart,” she said. “That cocktail looks almost as pretty as pie.” Her smile faded a little as she looked closer at my eyes, probably still damp. “You were close to Naomi Finley, weren’t you, dear?”

Ahh, shit. The sympathy in her voice caught me off guard, and my throat clogged with emotion. I nodded and took a drink to wash it away. “Yeah,” I managed with a faint smile as I set my glass down. I dabbed at the corner of one eye again and said, “Dammit,” then laughed. “Everything about tonight is so Naomi. It’s as if she’s still here.”

She had, in fact, been in on the initial planning. The fundraiser was her baby, her idea. Her life motto had been “Art for everyone,” and she’d been an untiring advocate particularly in funding art programs in schools throughout the state of Tennessee.

“Are you planning to bid on a bachelor?” Loretta asked as she dug into the second slice of lemon meringue.

“That’s what I want to know,” Dakota Dawson, who I’d come with, said as she sat to my left. She and I had become close over the past year as we both spent a lot of time at Naomi’s studio.

“You never know,” I said, not trying to be mysterious. I just hadn’t made up my mind yet.

Though I was a server at the Dragonfly Diner and perpetually low on funds, tonight I had money to spend. Dakota was the only one who knew my secret. Naomi had left me in charge of appropriating what she called her petty cash fund, money she’d set aside expressly to donate to her causes. I knew she wouldn’t care if I used it for the silent auction or to bid on a bachelor or just made a lump donation. She only insisted it went to the cause tonight. I had just over five K to donate.

As plates were cleared and two organizers appeared on the stage, gearing up to start the bachelor auction, Dakota leaned closer. “For real though, are you going to buy some man meat?”

“When you put it like that, how can I resist?” I grinned and sipped more pink vodka.

Loretta had turned back to discuss the meringue in great detail with Nancy Solon, her fellow Dragonfly Diamond, enabling me to confess to Dakota without being heard.

“Nothing at the silent auction really spoke to me.”

“Not the getaway weekend here at the Marks?” Dakota asked.

I shook my head.

Her grin widened. “Man meat it is then.” She leaned over so she was right next to my ear. “I think you should bid on Max.”

“Your brother?” I asked in surprise.

“I dare you.”

My brows went up as I considered the idea. Max Dawson was…well, good-looking, loved by everyone, and about ten years older than me.

“He works for my dad,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, so?” Dakota’s smile was full of trouble, and that did nothing to turn me away. If anything, it egged me on. I’d never been one to shy away from trouble. “He’d be good arm candy for the gala.”

“A handsome-as-hell former-NFL player as my date would fit the bill, yes.” I frowned. “Why do you want me to bid on your brother though?” I asked, suspicious.

“Someone’s going to win him. Might as well be you,” she said flippantly.

“Sure, okay. What’s the real reason?”

Her smile disappeared, and she eyed the other eight people at the table. No one was paying attention to us. The four older ladies—Loretta, Nancy, Dotty, and Darlene—were wrapped up in dessert talk, something about the proper amount of butter. On the other side of Dakota, two of the Henry brothers, Seth and Knox, and their better halves were also deep in discussion.

Dakota leaned closer. “I’m worried about him. He doesn’t have fun anymore. Doesn’t go out. Hasn’t dated since he took Danny in. I know becoming a single dad is a huge thing, but he’s not himself.”

“What do you think I could do about that?” I asked in disbelief.

“You’ll show him a good time,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Well, yes. I’d like to think so. How much of a good time do you want him to have?” Innuendo was heavy in my voice, and I couldn’t help grinning.

“As much of a good time as you want,” she said, “but if it’s too good, I don’t want to hear about it.”

I didn’t allow myself to think about too good of a time with Coach Dawson. I definitely didn’t need to tangle with him that much, but I was open to bidding on him. Maybe.

“You said it yourself. He’s going to get bids no matter what. Why do you want me to steal him away from some poor girl who’s probably pining away for him?”

“That’s just it. Half the women here”—she gestured to the room—“are pining away for him. They want to land him, ensnare him, marry him. That’s the last thing my struggling brother needs. You’ll get him out of the house for a night of fun, but you won’t want more than that.”

“Truth.”

“You’re the last person looking to settle down.”

“Also true.”

“So you’re perfect.”

I considered the idea. Showing up to the art foundation’s gala in Nashville with a former-NFL player would outshine being the mourning girl accepting an award in her dead friend’s stead.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” Mayor Constantine’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Welcome to the pinnacle of tonight’s event—the bachelor auction.”

The crowd responded noisily, telling me this was going to get lively.

“You all know the proceeds of the evening will go to a very important cause. This town hasn’t had a proper art department at the high school level since our own Berwin Jepp was the starting quarterback.”

Collective laughter rang out because Berwin was nearing sixty.

“He took the team to state his senior year,” the mayor continued, “but regardless, I think we can all agree that’s too long for our education system to be lacking in any way. We need art in our schools. Creativity is as vital as the ability to calculate what MC squared equals. So I’m asking you all to open your wallets as wide as you can. Get yourself a date with a Dragonfly Lake dreamboat.”

There was laughter again, though judging by the names and profiles listed on the town app, the Tattler, he wasn’t exaggerating about dreamboats. The guys they’d recruited to go on the auction block were some of the best-looking ones our town had to offer.

While the mayor explained how the auction would work, Dakota sought eye contact with me.

“Well?” she asked.

“Maybe,” I said noncommittally. I’d never been accused of being a planner. I’d do what I did with everything—I’d go with my gut.

First up was Elijah Watt. Dakota worked with him. He was good-looking but too young, barely of legal drinking age. Taking him to a black-tie event in the city…no.

Next up was Anton White. Midthirties. Decent looking. I wasn’t feeling him either.

Sergio Vega, age seventy-two and proud of it, was third. Our table exploded in cheers when Nancy timidly bid on him and won him for six hundred fifty dollars. One of the Diamonds, the card-playing mostly over-sixty ladies’ group, she was adorable. She even blushed when her victory was announced.

I watched, unmoved to bid, as Luke Durham, Pablo Benitez, and Gideon Webb, who graduated the same year as me, were offered up. Luke, a quiet, muscular farmer, got the highest bid yet at nineteen hundred.

Jake Bergman, whose family had owned the hardware store for longer than I’d been alive, was up next. Not gonna lie, he looked good, but I wasn’t sure he was black-tie material. Plus he was forty. It turned out it was just as well I wasn’t interested, as Darlene Lionetti, who was twenty years his senior at least, drove the bid up to nearly thirteen hundred to win him, much to the audience’s delight. Her fellow Diamonds hooted and hollered as if she’d made the score of a lifetime, and as the longtime Country Market clerk, maybe she had. I would’ve hated to rain on her parade.

A while later, I’d just finished my drink and was thinking about another one when Mayor Constantine introduced Max, the younger of the two Dawson brothers and, in my opinion, the better looking. Both were in the auction, and either would be a catch if you were looking for that sort of thing. I stayed put, gauging the room. Collective interest was tangible in the air.

There was no debating Dakota’s brother was delectable. With dark hair that was a little shaggy, an olive complexion, and a warm smile that took his face from handsome to enticing, he was celebrity-level hot. He had the lean, muscled body of a quarterback even though a lot of time had passed since he’d played pro football. He somehow oozed confidence and charm without crossing into egotistical. My eyes were locked on him.

Bidding had started at fifty dollars for most of the guys, but for Max, Mayor Constantine went straight to three hundred. Within thirty seconds, it was up to a grand, and I had yet to jump in. Isabel Ballantine, Rissa Raymond, and Lucy Whitmore were raising each other by fifty dollars at a time.

I felt Dakota eyeing me from the side, so I looked at her, keeping my expression blank. She widened her eyes, as if to say, Do it! I shrugged.

I turned back to watch Max on the stage. Most people’s eyes were ping-ponging between the three women bidding on him instead of the stage. From where I sat, though, I could see his chest rise with a slow, deep breath, and he subtly tapped the side of his leg as if he was uncomfortable and couldn’t wait for this to be over.

Lucy dropped out when the bidding reached fifteen hundred. I glanced around, wondering if anyone else was playing my game.

“I’ve got sixteen hundred dollars to spend an evening with Coach,” Mayor Constantine said. “Can I get seventeen?”

Rissa raised her paddle, and Max made something between a grimace and a smile. Possibly a grimace covered by a smile.

As the mayor continued trying to get fifty extra bucks at a time, I glanced at Dakota, who sent me a questioning look.

I tried to stifle my smile. Then I raised my paddle and called out, “Five thousand dollars.”