Chapter Twelve
Twelve
Felicity had never imagined she would be attending a bachelor auction.
But since the new charity foundation had listed child services as one of its causes, she needed to make an appearance. And truth be told, she found the notion of Conrad on the catwalk to be something she didn’t want to miss.
The dinner portion of the Mikkelson-Steele charity fund-raiser had concluded. The partiers had relocated to the barn for the bachelor auction.
Tally stood next to her, red hair falling in loose, romantic curls. If she didn’t know her friend better, she would have assumed Tally was happy. She certainly kept a ready smile in place.
Years of training told Felicity otherwise. Her friend’s relentlessly straight shoulders spoke volumes about the tension she was feeling. Pain radiated from her.
Risk and trust were close cousins. They accompanied each other. Sometimes they did damage together. A fact she knew all too well.
And a fact that caused Felicity unease of her own. She watched Conrad button his tuxedo jacket. He caught her eye, gave her a wink.
Conrad moved quickly with determination and charm.
His romance game unsettled her, scared her.
The wounds of her failed marriage still stung.
For all her skill with communication and people, she couldn’t seem to find the words to tell her appealing suitor that things needed to move slower.
Why couldn’t he understand given his own relationship failures?
The auctioneer for the event cleared his throat, effectively extinguishing the conversation in the room.
Felicity looked at the runway. Tally had a hand in helping the event come together.
Her friend had hung heart-shaped snowflake formations from the barn’s rafters.
Faux snow blanketed the runway. Tall, skinny pine trees decorated the back of the stage. A mini winter wonderland.
Conrad walked down the runway. Slow, determined strides.
Women in the audience murmured about his sexy, tight-lipped half smile.
A bidding war began between a bleached-blonde woman in a gown of sapphire and a brunette in a deep burgundy.
Cheering erupted as the women drove Conrad’s price higher and higher.
Deep in Felicity’s stomach, a pang of jealousy bubbled. She had no claim, no right to the emotion and no room in her life for romance. She didn’t have the emotional reserves to risk another heartbreak.
With a deep breath, she did her best to not be distracted by how downright handsome Conrad looked in his custom-fitted tuxedo.
The blonde raised her paddle, and the woman in red tapped out.
The auctioneer almost called it until Naomi Steele, one of Conrad’s nieces, shot her paddle into the air, upping the bid substantially. The blonde shook her head.
The auctioneer nodded, attributing the bet to...
“Felicity Hunt.”
Felicity stifled a gasp through sheer willpower. All eyes turned to her. Anger iced her. She knew a setup when she saw it. And Conrad had very clearly maneuvered this to push forward his agenda.
Conrad descended from the runway, heading toward where she and Tally were seated at the back of the rows of chairs.
For a brief moment, Felicity felt like a hypocrite, turning away, needing to put space between herself and the admittedly sexy man.
It didn’t matter that she’d just spouted romantic encouragement to her friend Tally.
Felicity wasn’t in the market for following her own advice, for being open to deeper feelings.
The truth was, as much as she’d hoped she could indulge in a light relationship with this man, she just wasn’t ready. Her divorce had left her too raw.
Practically out the door, or at least around the corner, Felicity searched for her coat-check ticket so she could leave.
She needed to get out of this barn with all its confusing tensions.
Conrad closed the distance between them, cornering her just outside the tack room, out of sight from the rest of the crowd.
“Is everything okay?”
Felicity wanted to say yes and just walk away, but she’d never been any good at lying. “You orchestrated that winning bid.”
“I thought you would find the gesture romantic.”
And perhaps it was. But she couldn’t allow this flirtation to continue. “It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. Might as well make the best of it.”
“Other men might be insulted by the horror in your voice,” he said dryly.
“I’m more frustrated with myself. I think I’ve given you the wrong impression with our lunches.
” Felicity searched for the right words to put an end to this in a diplomatic way, but above all to be up-front and honest. “I just want to make sure you understand. I’ve already suffered through a divorce.
It was a hell I’m not interested in repeating. ”
“As I’ve said before, we’re not talking about getting married. We were discussing a date.” He arched a brow.
She was starting to feel foolish. Had she read too much into his attention? “I’ll honor the bid, but to be fair, I’m not at a place where I’m ready to let someone into my life.”
“You don’t plan to date? Or remarry? You’re planning to live a nun’s life, taking care of orphans?”
She didn’t like his tone of voice one bit. “And if that’s my plan, what’s so wrong with it?”
“I could swear I saw interest in your eyes.” He clasped her shoulders, drawing her near.
“That’s why I’m not officially a nun.” She tipped her face defiantly, wanting to kiss him, to lose herself in his embrace. But just as she couldn’t lie to him, she also couldn’t lie to herself.
There could never be anything simple between them. The draw was too potent. Too powerful.
“And you’re not interested in taking a risk?”
“No, I’m not.” She infused her voice with resolution, because if she weakened at all and he noticed... She wasn’t sure how long she could hold out.
Sighing, he stepped back, the air crackling between them with desire and regret.
“Damn shame. We could have had something special.” Conrad straightened his tie.
“No worries about going on the date. I’ll use the purchased time to volunteer somewhere like the hospital.
Just say where your office needs the help most.”
She watched him disappear into the crowd, and even knowing she’d made the right decision, she wondered what might have happened if she’d met him a decade earlier.
Marshall thrust his hand through his hair, the bow tie damn near choking him.
Still, his least favorite part of the fund-raiser was complete—the bachelor bid.
It had been difficult for him to parade around on the best days.
It had been far harder knowing Tally was in the audience, watching.
The winning bid had been a grand dame whose family were major sponsors of bringing rodeos to town. She’d bought his promotional presence.
At least he didn’t have to navigate the waters of an awkward date. His eyes were drawn to Tally, her elegance and poise.
Live music hung in the air, a song about love at Christmastime. His jaw taut, he did his best to stay anchored. Marshall had gone to an AA meeting and spent an extra hour with his sponsor prior to tonight, shoring himself up on so many levels.
Naomi’s husband, Royce, made his way to Marshall.
The Alaska Oil Barons, Inc.’s environmental scientist looked at the cluster of people and did his best to walk by without being bogged down in idle conversation.
Marshall assumed that as a reclusive, introverted and brilliant scientist, Royce was probably as eager to finish up this party as he was.
Naomi’s husband leaned against a barn beam. “You’ve been hugging the wall mighty hard tonight.”
Marshall sipped his sparkling water and looked out on the crowd, where the waitstaff seamlessly weaved through the long gowns and winter floral arrangements, filling drinks for the guests engaged in deep conversation.
He flickered his eyes to Royce. “I’m here.
I’ve fulfilled the family’s wishes. It’s no secret the news about Breanna has rocked us all. ”
He hadn’t been able to get his feet back under him since that day.
He’d carried on, of course, getting ready for this event.
And the charity fund-raiser had clearly succeeded.
The bachelor auction brought in a good deal of money, and other donations were already being made by impressed and intrigued guests.
Judging by the sounds of the conversation, the party would continue for a time.
“How are you coping?” Royce tapped Marshall’s glass and pinned him with a look.
No need to hide the truth any longer. “Did Dad tell you?”
Marshall had been meaning to get the word out, but with everything that had happened with Brea, and then Tally, he hadn’t gotten around to it.
A waiter came by with a plate of appetizers—smoked salmon, avocado and cucumber. Tally had done a good job finding foods that appealed to everyone tonight. Both Royce and Marshall snagged some of the food.
Marshall popped the treat in his mouth, bracing himself for discussion about his alcoholism.
“No,” Royce said. “I only had a suspicion. You just confirmed it. Jack knows?”
Marshall swirled his glass in time to “O Holy Night.” Shaking his head, a ragged sigh escaped his lips.
Every new person to know simultaneously alleviated the burden and highlighted his struggle.
“I told him a few weeks ago. I planned to tell the rest of the family, but with the news about Breanna, I haven’t gotten around to it. Who else suspects?”
“No one’s heard it from me. So I’ll ask again, how are you handling the news?”
Not well, afraid as hell to hope his sister could really be alive. Finding it tough to look into the future. “You said it yourself—I’m hugging the wall.”
“Reaching out might be more beneficial.”
Marshall snorted on a laugh. “You’re one to talk.”