Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
AMbrOSE
“Avery Ross! Avery Ross!”
The chanting grows deafening, though I try to ignore it. Feet stomp. Claps shatter the air. Like a pep rally spinning out of control.
“We should send him out next,” Hawk repeats, eyeing Kurt, my fire chief. I feel like a scapegoat being tossed to the wolves. “Otherwise, they won’t bid on anyone else.”
Kurt frowns. “Yeah, but what’s to say the whole crowd won’t up and leave once bidding for him ends?”
Nothing like being in the same room with people talking about you in the third person. Like you have no say over your own life.
“Or worse,” Sheriff Christian says, the creases in his forehead deepening. The ice-eyed sheriff in a Stetson is all steel and disapproval, arms crossed over his chest in a wide-legged stance. “We’re on the edge of a riot. I’ve already told Axel to pull back the booze. But damn …”
Hawk peeks between the curtains, shaking his head and laughing. “There’s this woman out there in a red shirt. Shit, is she drunk! About to start dancing on the tables.”
“I can’t imagine she’s alone,” I mutter. I imagine Catalina tucked nervously in a corner, wishing she’d left before it got out of hand. I wish I could, too.
The momentary elation I felt when Roxy confirmed Catalina is here vanishes in a sickening nausea as I realize what she’s about to witness. After this, she may never want to talk to me again. Not sure I’d blame her. It’s a lot of drama for one person.
I shake my head, pacing back and forth. “Maybe I should leave now. Sneak out and head home.”
Deafening silence fills the air for one pregnant moment.
“No,” Hawk, Kurt, and Christian all exclaim in unison.
I let out a long, pained exhale. “You guys could replace me. There won’t be nearly the same amount of drama …
” I don’t mean it rudely. They’re decent-looking guys and all.
But I can’t think of anyone else who could engender the kind of fervor I hear coming from the auditorium short of one of the Hollywood Chrises.
“Me up for auction?” Hawk asks, far more animated than I usually see him. “Roxy would kill me.”
“Same,” Christian grimaces. “Or, at a bare minimum, I’d be investigating my wife, Cricket, for the bidder’s murder.”
Kurt chuckles. “You’ve got a lady like that, too?”
Suddenly, all three turn their eyes towards me, as though I’m about to be burned at the stake or guillotined in front of a hungry French mob.
Kurt concludes, “Let’s put him out there and get this over with.”
Christian nods decisively. “Crowd dispersal is of utmost priority.”
Hawk nods, his face grim. “Sorry, dude. But you’re doing this for the greater good.”
And with that final proclamation, all three nod toward the stage where the announcer for tonight’s events, Dallas Kincaid, stands in blingy boots and a fringed black rhinestone shirt, teasing the crowd. “Ready for our first bachelor?”
“Avery Ross! Avery Ross!”
God help me. I mean the unspoken prayer sincerely as I take the stage to a chorus of rapacious screams, so deafening I can no longer hear the music blaring.
The blinding heat from the spotlights mixes with the scent of booze and perfume. The vibrations of the gym’s hardwood floor reverberate with the crowd’s stomping demand for a piece or two of my flesh.
I smile brightly into the lights, putting on my best charming actor facade. Maybe that’s what I most fear Catalina seeing—me being hopelessly, pathetically fake.
Flashbulbs. A wall of cameras. Strangers shouting my name like they own me. Red carpets, afterparties, and headlines I never asked for.
Back then, I couldn’t breathe without someone documenting it, twisting it, selling it. I feel like I’m there again. My stomach drops with a sickening thud.
Dallas’s face betrays momentary surprise at my arrival, messing up the order. He’s one of the rodeo announcers for this town. I found this out backstage while trading stories about how we got our belt buckles.
Turns out, we’re both team ropers. In the off-season, he’s also an auctioneer who can talk many, many miles per minute.
“Wow! We’re starting with the main course. Are you ready for this, ladies?”
“Yeeeeeeees!!!” echoes through the auditorium along with high-pitched screams that make me pull my cowboy hat a little lower, wishing somehow I could cover my ears with it.
Dallas laughs, and I shift my weight uneasily, blinded by the bright white spotlight illuminating the stage. The light is so harsh it carves me out of the crowd like I’m something on display, not someone.
I squint into the glow, searching the crowd desperately for one girl, Catalina Dupont. Every time I blink, I see spots, and every time I squint, I imagine Catalina out there, watching me stumble through this circus. The not knowing what she sees, what she thinks burns worse than the glare.
Please be here. And please don’t be put off by this.
I whisper the words internally like a mantra.
My only hope for escaping this auction in one piece.
But honestly, she means far more to me than that …
though I can’t yet express what that might be.
It’s why I desperately need to see her again … alone. So, I can try to figure it—
My heart jolts like a lasso snap. There she is.
Our eyes meet for one long, searing moment. I think they meet, that is, because the lights disorient me. I can’t imagine what she’s seeing from her vantage point.
A mixture of relief and apprehension fills me. On the one hand, I hope against all hope she’ll somehow bid on and win me. On the other hand, I can’t think of anything worse than her watching me get objectified like this.
She’s the one who looked at me and saw a man, not a TV rerun. And now she’s watching me get sold off like a prize bull.
As Dallas wails on and on about my TV career and celebrity status, my eyes find Catalina again, locking for certain this time.
She presses her gorgeous, juicy lips firmly together in a frown, eyes flickering to groups of women surrounding her who jeer and wail with anticipation.
She breaks the stare, looking down and scrunching her face.
God, I wish I could get closer, see her expression more clearly, and try to sort out what the lovely, nerdy girl is thinking. All I know is this night would turn around in a heartbeat if I could just get my big, rough hands around her waist for one devastating kiss.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, are you ready to get started?” Dallas hollers.
A deafening roar floods the gymnasium. The lady in the red shirt screams above the din, sloppy, inebriated, and spilling her drink.
I cover my ears reflexively, unable to hold back any longer.
“Get those paddles ready, girls. Bidding starts at one hundred doll—”
“One fifty!” an auction attendant calls from the audience, and my heart drops. I try to remind myself that I’m doing this for a good cause, but self-preservation weighs heavily on me. I wonder what exactly these ladies will expect from me on our date?
“Two hundred … to the woman in the red shi—”
“Three hundred,” another attendant calls from the opposite side of the room. “To number sixty-nine.”
Number sixty-nine. Of course. As if the universe didn’t already think this was a joke.
So much for a quiet, simple life in a small town. I shield my eyes, squinting into the distance for my lifeline. But the spotlight blinds me.
How did I ever let myself get in this situation?
That thought loops through my mind on repeat as I stand there like a piece of fucking meat.
The numbers climb in a dizzying blur—five hundred, seven-fifty, eight-fifty—each one another nail in my coffin.
Red shirt. Blonde hair. Fur coat. Diamond earrings. Sixty-nine.
Nothing sounds familiar. I can only wager that none of the bidders are Catalina. Besides, there’s no way she would bid on me at this high a bankroll. I can only imagine the pained expressions I’m making at this point.
Straining, my eyes find her again, among the seething crowd, eyes wide and bewildered, paddle clutched in her hand. Raise it. Pick me. But she hesitates, shaking her head in the frenzy.
Dammit.
For a split second, I swear she wants to.
Her knuckles tighten, her shoulders tense like she’s fighting herself.
My chest aches with the urge to shout her name, to tell her just to do it, take a chance on me.
But then her chin tips down, and the paddle dips lower, and I feel the loss like a punch to the ribs.
She vanishes in the crowd. I’m out of fucking luck. The woman’s probably so horrified she’s making her escape. I wouldn’t blame her. Unfortunately, my night’s just beginning …
“Nine hundred.”
At least, I’m not hearing from sixty-nine anymore …
“Nine fifty from sixty-nine.”
Lord, help me.
I can’t see a thing. I should’ve worn sunglasses on this stage.
“A thousand dollars to the lady in red.”
Dallas eyes me, pleased. “A thousand dollars!” he repeats. “Do I hear fifteen hundred?”
“Two thousand!”
“Three thousand!”
The sound of the crowd shifts … less excited, more ravenous. It’s not laughter anymore but shrill cries, greedy gasps, claws dragging across the gym’s air. They don’t see me. They see what they can take. The auction block isn’t a stage. It’s a cage.
Numbers continue in rapid-fire progression until I’ve raised ten thousand dollars for the animal rescue. It’s all well and good, but what in the hell is someone going to expect for five digits?
Silence settles apart from the shuffling of feet.
“Ten thousand five?” the shiny cowboy asks.
A resigned quiet overtakes the auditorium. I look down at my boots, coming to terms with my fate.
“Sold to the pink lady for ten thousand dollars!”
Pink lady? Huh.
Wild cries of disappointment rise above the din of the murmuring crowd, inebriated, wild.
Dallas shakes his head. “Oh, boy! Do you realize that we could stop the entire auction right now and be halfway to our original projected goal?”
As if they needed encouragement, groups of women start sullenly heading for the door, expressions irate.
Dallas shoves the mic in front of my face, spotlight still burning a hole through my retinas, as I strain to see Catalina.
I have to register her expression, try to read her thoughts, and whether she’ll ever want anything to do with me again …
. or the date I tried to ask her out on before we got interrupted.
“Thank you,” I say, swallowing loudly. “But don’t leave yet.
There are plenty more small-town bachelors to be had.
My firemen brothers-in-arms, sheriff’s deputies, search and rescue guys, cowboys, ex-military men, farmers …
” I feel like a snakeoil salesman caught red-handed, peddling things the majority of women in this crowd don’t want.
Suddenly, my eyes find Catalina again. Her expression looks grim, disappointed.
It reflects everything I feel inside. I wonder if she bid at all.
I can’t imagine it, seeing as we quickly skyrocketed into the four digits and beyond.
I wonder if she’ll ever talk to me again outside of politely serving me at the DMV counter …
I nod in Catalina’s direction, and her cheeks brighten. At least, that’s what I convince myself. Dallas grabs my arm, whispering under his breath, “We know you like bright lights and big stages, Hollywood. But time to give it up to the next lot number.”
Behind the curtain, the other bachelors break into cheers and jeers. Sheriff Christian still stands with his arms crossed, his face stony and unreadable. Hawk’s very much the same, though adjusting the lighting and audio makes him draw his face in concentration.
“Nice job, Hollywood,” Kurt grumbles, clasping a hand on my shoulder. “Now, you’ve ruined the auction for everyone else.” He narrows his gaze sternly before laughing. “At least you made a lot of money doing it.”
I drag a hand down my face, the adrenaline gone and nothing left but bone-deep fatigue. I thought leaving L.A. meant leaving the performance behind. But out there under those lights, I was the same damn actor, selling a version of myself I don’t even want anymore. And Catalina saw that.
Hawk’s cell phone vibrates, and he pulls it from his pocket, accepting a call and holding it up to his ear. He speaks in tones so quiet I can barely make out what he’s saying as Christian and Kurt go back and forth about my next steps.
Finally, the Native cowboy looks up, grinning, an expression generally out of character for him. “So, the drama continues,” he teases, heading off the conversation between the Fire Chief and Sheriff.
We all stare at him, waiting for elaboration.
“Turns out pink lady doesn’t want you for herself, though she’s still good for the ten thousand. She just gifted you to another bidder.”
“Huh,” Kurt says, looking puzzled. “No matter, you’ll have a place in these annual festivities for as long as you like.”
Just what I don’t want to hear.
“I need to get this over with,” I groan impatiently, ready to put this evening behind me. A rustling from the side of the stage catches my attention.
I brace for the worst … until Roxy appears, dragging the one woman I prayed for behind her.
The curvy, nerdy girl is even more stunning than I remember her from the tree earlier, her cheeks glowing and her dark, intuitive eyes rounding.
“Catalina!” I exclaim breathlessly, wishing we could meet again under any other circumstances.
“Cat’s the winning bidder,” Roxy says with a broad grin.
Relief crashes through me, fierce and overwhelming. The first time I’ve ever wanted to be won.
Of all the women in this gym, the one I wanted most is here. My shoulders drop, my lungs unclenching as I take a deep breath, heart thudding because she chose me.