Chapter 2 Snapper
SNAPPER
Iwas making my way back from the silent auction room when I nearly collided with Felicity Hope, who was waddling toward the ladies’ room with one hand pressed to her lower back.
“Whoa, sorry!” I steadied her with a hand on her elbow.
“Snapper.” She smiled, though it looked strained. “Isabel just cornered me. She appears determined to win the date with you this year. If she doesn’t, I fear she might murder my sister.”
I shook my head. “You’d think she would’ve given up by now.”
Felicity laughed, then winced. “God, this baby needs to come out already. I’m so done being pregnant.”
“How much longer?”
“Due date is around the end of the month, but the doctor said first babies usually come late.” She made a face. “Which means I could be like this for another two weeks—or longer. Mom and Dad are coming up at some point to help us get ready.”
“What about Saffron?”
Felicity’s expression shifted. “She says she needs to stay and handle the late harvest. You know how she is. Married to that winery.” She paused. “But I made her promise that the second I go into real labor, she gets on a plane. Mom and Dad did too. I need my sister there, Snapper.”
Her desperation stunned me, and I promised she’d be there, even though I had no idea if that was Saffron’s intention.
“Good.” She squeezed my arm, then winced again.
Wagner appeared then, looking worried. “You okay, honey?”
“Fine. Just needed to pee. Again.” She rolled her eyes. “Third time in an hour.”
He wrapped an arm around her and guided her toward the restroom, but she looked back at me. “Whatever’s going on with her—help her, okay? She won’t ask, but she needs it.”
“I will,” I told her, wondering if whatever she was alluding to had anything to do with Saffron saying she was calling in a favor this year.
Back at our table, Kick was waiting with that knowing look he always got when he was about to give me shit.
“You know, all you’d have to do is insist she let you take her on the date, given the trouble she goes to every year,” he leaned in and said.
I shook my head. “She’d never agree to it.”
Kick, who was also my best friend and team-roping partner, shook his head too and muttered under his breath. “You’re such an idiot.”
While that might be true in most cases, it wasn’t when it came to Saffron.
If I thought she was the slightest bit interested in being more than friends, I’d jump on the chance to date her.
But she wasn’t. And rather than risk our friendship by awkwardly asking her out and forcing her to turn me down gently, I refrained.
“Switch seats with me,” I said to Kick, pushing away from the table.
“Not a chance. If you don’t want to take your shot with the lovely Miss Hope, I sure as hell will. Considering I have the best view of her from where I’m sitting, maybe she and I will make googly eyes at each other throughout dinner.”
I stared at him. “Googly eyes? What the fuck is that? Never mind, I don’t want to know. Now, unless you have a death wish, quit even looking at her and switch seats.”
As soon as my other four brothers laughed just as hard as Kick was, I knew he’d set this up before I got to the table. Him adding, “You’re such an easy mark,” only confirmed my suspicion.
“She’d say yes in a New York minute if you ever got up the nerve to ask,” my brother Bit’s wife, Eberly, who was seated on the opposite side of me, said quietly enough that only I could hear her.
I was about to respond when my sister got up on stage for the second time and asked for everyone’s attention.
“Dinner is about to be served, so please take your seats. I hope everyone arrived tonight ready to spend lots of money! Between the fabulous silent auction items I already mentioned and our twenty amazing bachelors ready to charm you into generosity, I’m projecting we’ll double the amount we raised last year. Who’s with me?”
Several hands went up, along with a rousing round of applause. That was my sister. The woman could talk anyone out of their last dime.
I looked over at Saffron’s table, hoping to catch her eye.
What I saw instead made me wince. The girl I’d rarely seen without a smile was lost in thought, looking like someone had kicked her metaphoric puppy.
What in the hell was that all about? On the plus side, since she hadn’t noticed yet, I could keep staring as long as I wanted.
When I told her she was so pretty no one would be looking at her dress, I’d meant it.
Three years ago, when I’d complimented her on it, it was the first time she told me it was the same gown she always wore.
The next year, when I offered to buy her another in exchange for bidding on me, I wasn’t sure what had been worse—how mad she was at me, or the hurt look on her face her anger was meant to hide.
Tonight, she wore her hair down, which I preferred over the ponytail I usually saw her in.
The mahogany strands fell on her bare shoulders, making me long to sweep them away and kiss the skin they were lucky enough to touch.
I was about to look away when her eyes met mine and I was held mesmerized by the pain so clearly etched on her face.
It made me want to get up, ask her to join me outside, make her tell me what was wrong, then fix it.
All of it. Every single thing that hurt her.
If she’d let me, I’d make it my life’s mission.
“Isabel van Orr? Where are you, sweetie?” I heard my sister say after the dinner plates were cleared.
“Here I am,” Isabel said over the noise of the crowd, not that I’d look in her direction. I knew damn well where she was sitting, just like Alex did. What I didn’t know was what kind of shit my sister was about to stir up.
I scowled in her direction as a warning, not that she’d heed it, ever. She winked at me, then looked back at Isabel.
“Promise me that this will be the year you outbid everyone for a date with my little brother, Izzy.”
“You know I will, Al.”
Everyone at our table, myself included, chuckled at the two women’s use of nicknames they hated equally. Just like Saffron hated it when her sister called her pumpkin.
My gaze was drawn to her again, but when I looked that way, Saffron was gone. Where in the hell was she?
“Excuse me,” I muttered, tossing my napkin on my chair after I stood. Rather than cut through the crowded tables, I left the main room through one of the archways and made my way out to the bar, hoping that was where I’d find her.
“Hey, Snapper. What can I get you?” the guy behind it asked.
“Bourbon neat,” I said as I surveyed the otherwise empty room.
“Looking for someone?” the guy asked.
I shook my head, then changed my mind. “Saffron Hope. You know her?”
“Yeah, I saw her a minute ago. I think she was on her way to the silent-auction tables.”
“Thanks,” I said, walking away and leaving my drink on the bar.
Sure enough, she was coming out of the room as I was going in.
“Bid on anything?” I asked.
“No. It’s all too rich for my blood this year.” She smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes.
I took her hand and led her back in. “Come on. Show me what caught your eye. I owe you, remember?”
“And I told you I plan to collect this year.” The second fake smile she sent me made me grind my teeth.
I took a step closer, squeezing her hand rather than dropping it. “Whatever you want, Saffron.”
She removed her fingers from my grasp. “I should get back to the table.”
“Wait!” I called out when she spun around and stalked away. When she didn’t stop, I hurried and got in front of her. “Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”
Her brow furrowed. “I said I’d tell you after.”
“Whatever it is must be a doozy, then,” I joked. Not that her expression indicated she found it funny.
When she walked away again, I let her go, then circled around to the bar. My bourbon sat waiting, and when I didn’t see the bartender, I tossed it back and dropped a twenty, determined to get to the bottom of what was up with Saffron before the night came to an end.
Rather than take a seat, I stood in the archway, listening as Alex announced the name of the first bachelor.
That I’d never even heard of the guy had to mean I was too old for this shit.
Next year, I’d turn my sister down flat.
Five years was fucking enough, especially since the money she raised from my bid came out of my own pocket.
Not that I minded. I’d still donate that much or more if she’d let me off the hook of this farce.
The early bachelors went quickly. A tech entrepreneur sold for four thousand to a wine industry venture capitalist’s daughter, and a sommelier Alex had convinced to come up from Santa Barbara fetched five grand from a local restaurant owner.
The next guy up, whose family had purchased one of the larger vineyard estates last year, caused a minor bidding war between three women that ended at twelve thousand with a lot of good-natured laughter. The rest, I tuned out.
“And now, ladies, a crowd favorite returning for his fifth year. My brother tried to hide in the back, but we see you, Snapper! Come on up here!” Alex’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
I made my way to the stage, shaking my head at her theatrics. Rather than take a direct route, I weaved my way through the tables, past where the Hopes sat.
“Got your paddle ready?” I whispered in Saffron’s ear.
“She told me she’s starting the bidding at twenty thousand,” Felicity teased.
“I’m worth at least double that, right?” I nudged Saffron, and she rolled her eyes. I counted that as a win. Anything was better than another half-assed grin.
“Salazar ‘Snapper’ Avila,” my sister began as I got closer to the stage.
“Is a championship team roper, an accomplished winemaker, and yes, ladies, he’s single.
Though I should mention he’s currently recovering from a shoulder injury, so maybe keep the date activities low-impact.
” She paused to give the audience time to laugh.
“Thanks for making me sound fragile, Alex,” I said into the microphone, wishing she’d just get on with it so I could head back over to Saffron’s table.
“Bidding starts at five thousand dollars,” Alex announced.
“Ten thousand.” Isabel’s response cut through the room.
“Twelve thousand,” called another woman, who I couldn’t see through the bright stage lights but knew wasn’t Saffron.
“Fifteen.” Isabel countered.
The bids went back and forth, each one upping a grand, but by twenty thousand, most had given up, and Saffron hadn’t bid once.
“We have a bid of twenty. Anyone want to raise it to twenty-five?” Alex called out.
“I will,” said Isabel, even though hers was the last bid.
“Twenty-five thousand going once,” Alex started.
Just when I started to get nervous, Saffron raised her paddle. “Thirty.”
Isabel’s head turned in that direction as if to challenge her. “Thirty-five thousand.”
“Forty.”
“Fifty.” A minute ago, Isabel had sounded bored. Now, she was annoyed.
Saffron raised her paddle. “Sixty.”
Isabel pushed away from the table and stood. “Seventy thousand.”
I looked out at Saffron, who, for the first time, was looking at me. I raised a brow.
“Seventy-five thousand.”
Gasps echoed through the barrel room. Even Alex looked shocked.
Isabel’s face flushed red, and she looked from Saffron to me, then back again.
“Seventy-five thousand going once,” Alex said slowly. “Going twice...”
Isabel’s voice could have frozen wine in the barrel. “You can have him.”
“Sold to bidder number forty-seven for seventy-five thousand dollars!” Alex shouted, not bothering with the rest of the countdown.
The applause was deafening, but I was in no mood to play up the crowd, not when I saw Saffron get up and leave her table. I jumped off the stage and rushed in her direction. Not fast enough, though. Isabel beat me to her.
“Seventy-five thousand? Are you fucking kidding me, Saffron?” I heard her say as I approached.
“We all know you can’t afford that kind of money.
” Saffron didn’t bite back. “I guess you’re hoping that, this time, he’ll marry you.
Fat chance of that. Whatever will you do when he doesn’t? More, what will your daddy do?”
I’d heard more than enough and took a step forward. “Everything okay here?” I stepped closer to Saffron than Isabel and rested my hand on the small of her back.
Isabel straightened, and her smile switched to high beam. “Of course! I was congratulating Saffron on her win. Seventy-five thousand dollars—you must have quite the evening planned.”
Likely knowing I’d heard what she said, Isabel walked away.
“Come with me,” I said, taking Saffron’s hand like I had earlier.
“I’m leaving. We can talk tomorrow.”
I didn’t stop walking until we were outside. “You leave without telling me what’s going on. I follow.”
She removed her hand from mine, and I let her, knowing if she dashed off toward her truck, I’d beat her there.
“I have a headache. I don’t want to be here. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“No,” I said, softening my tone when I saw the tears she was trying damn hard to hide. “Tell me what you need, and it’s yours.
“Tomorrow,” she said again. “Meet me at the Olallieberry Diner at ten.”
I wanted to argue. More, I wanted to take her in my arms, find out why she was on the verge of crying, then make whatever was upsetting her go away. Instead, I gave in. “Tomorrow. Ten AM. And if you’re not there, know that I’ll have the sheriff put out an APB on you.”
That got a half smile. “Vader wouldn’t do that.”
“You don’t know the favors he owes me.”
The smile was gone. “Don’t worry, Snapper. I’ll be there.”
I let her walk away, and as she did, I swore I heard her add, “I have no choice.”