Chapter 7
Colt
I saw what happened. Liz picked her own bidding fight with Hallie.
He’s got to realize that my sister was just helping out a friend.
None of it makes sense. My high school ex hasn’t reached out at all over the years.
And since I’ve been back, the only time she’s even talked to me was the double flirting weirdness earlier.
Time crawls as three more bachelors are auctioned off, and damned if I can’t take my eyes off Hallie the entire time.
Even across the room, Hallie Emory hits me like a damn beacon in that gorgeous emerald dress.
Seeing her lean over to my sister, whispering secrets behind the paddle, sets my soul at rest in ways it hasn’t been in a long time.
And then awareness slams into me like . I want Hallie to bid on me, not any other motherfucker in this place.
Just. Me.
Before I can think too much about it, the emcee announces Gentry’s turn, my focus shifting center-stage.
My buddy has always been a showoff. I was the broody, quiet one, while he was the life of the party.
Made for some fun times. But even I’m surprised when he grabs the mic away from Archer Beaumont mid-announcement.
“Good evening, Stone Ridge!” He works the stage, addressing the crowd like a politician right before the big election.
“Let’s make some money for the outreach tonight.
I’m great with power tools, I bake a mean cobbler and,” with a salacious wink, he adds, “I don’t mind being someone’s bad idea for the night. ”
The crowd goes wild. The offers start climbing, and before you know it, the price reaches fifteen hundred dollars. As the numbers rise, the two remaining bidders are Liz, who keeps side-eyeing my sister, and one of the college girls who keeps grinning at Gentry like he’s the last meal on earth.
When the emcee asks, “Do I hear sixteen hundred? Come on, ladies and gentlemen. Gentry’s brave enough to run into burning buildings… surely that’s worth more?”
As Liz raises her paddle one more time, Brooke elbows Hallie right in the ribs.
“Nineteen hundred!” Hallie blurts, then slaps a hand over her mouth as if she didn’t mean to say it out loud.
The emcee leans into the mic with a grin. “Going once, twice…” and with a flourish, slams the gavel down, shaking the holiday wreath hanging from the podium. “It looks like our hometown firefighter is off the market, ladies. Good luck surviving the heat!”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are we in the Upside Down? What twisted episode of Stranger Things is this? I’m going to kill my sister.
I don’t even have time to process that Hallie just won three dates with my best friend because I’m up.
“Next is our hometown rodeo champion, Colt Sawyer, back in the fold where he belongs. Ladies, get your paddles ready. Do I have fifty dollars?”
A chorus of cheers breaks out, probably ‘cause half the town’s already halfway drunk on margaritas and nostalgia.
I tip my head and give a slow grin. “Careful now. I ride better than I behave.”
Laughter ripples through the crowd, and bids start flying.
“Seventy-five!” someone yells.
“One hundred!”
The emcee fans himself. “You hear that, folks? He cleans up nice, but he’s still got that bad-boy dust on him.”
I work the stage like I’m not dying inside, tossing a wink toward a table of older ladies who practically swoon.
But every time I glance at Hallie, my pulse goes off-kilter.
Twinkle lights catch on her hair every time she moves, making it impossible not to stare.
Her fingers worry the paddle, tapping it against her thigh like she can’t decide if she wants to use it a second time or throw it across the room.
Liz’s smile is all teeth and no warmth when she lifts her paddle with a sharp snap of her wrist. Hell, she’s not even looking at me. She’s aiming every ounce of her petty energy at staring a hole through my sister instead of actually buying a date.
The college girl who bid on my buddy throws up her paddle, bringing the charity bid to over a thousand. The widowed librarian gives her a run for her money along with Liz and Carol Ann Simmons, a PTA mom who pretends she’s bidding for charity but definitely wants a date.
“Fifteen hundred.”
“Sixteen hundred.”
“Eighteen hundred.” That’s from one of my old high school buddies who’s out and proud. I tip my head, glad to spend my time catching up with him when Liz throws out a bomb.
“Twenty-two hundred.”
Fuck. No way the universe is handing me off to my ex with the highest bid of the night. But no one raises their paddle, sealing my fate.
“Going once… twice… and sold, folks!” The gavel cracks like a damn rifle shot. “Our hometown rodeo champion is officially off the market.”
I didn’t even want to be on the market, and now a girl I might be catching feelings for (yes, I said it) is going out with my best friend while I’ve been roped into spending time with my ex.
All because my sister insisted I join this stupid auction in the first place. The only saving grace from this shitshow is that she’s stuck with whatever chaos she just unleashed into the world.
Pushing past the enormous tree, I slip out of the meeting hall before Liz can corner me about scheduling our dates. The last thing I need right now is to pretend I’m excited about this arrangement.
Gentry follows me outside, the cool December air hits as he claps me on the shoulder. “Well, that was interesting.”
“That’s one word for it.” I loosen my bow tie, feeling like it’s choking me.
I need a drink. And air. And to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to sit through three dates with my ex when the only woman I want to spend time with just bought dates with my best friend.
By the time we make it next door, I have two words on my mind: full bar.
Three dates with my ex? Fine.
Hallie on someone else’s arm? Fine.
Everything’s fucking fine.
Now somebody pour the damn whiskey—and make it strong.