Chapter 15 #3
“How about we start at three hundred dollars.”
“Seven hundred!”
“Eight!”
The ring of firefighters kept yelling numbers until the chief shouted, “Sold for one thousand dollars!” Not one single female was able to bid on Gage, and by the set of his shoulders, he was a little upset about it.
One of the bigger burly men held up a handful of money while another one approached the stage and handed the chief a note.
“I have a message.” Paula unfolded the paper but didn’t look at it. “It appears this last bid was done by proxy…Janice Jones. This strapping young man, I mean, this basket is all yours, paid in full. Gentlemen, if you could help out.”
The firemen picked Gage up and deposited him, and the basket, in front of Janice Jones, Heather’s little sister, whose face shone beet red.
Gage knelt and held the basket up to her.
She bit her lower lip as she fought a smile.
Another couple Taylor hadn’t anticipated, but they were obviously smitten with each other.
“Ladies, our next bachelor needs no introduction. All the way from Singapore, he’s the son of our prestigious mayor—Taylor Compton.”
“That’s you, cowboy.” Chelsey patted him on the back. “Good luck.”
Even though he prepped himself to go up on stage when his name was called, Taylor still wasn’t ready. He stopped and took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. This wasn’t a big deal…only the biggest night of Chelsey’s career.
“Who wants to start off the bidding for this basket of sweets? Let’s start at eight hundred dollars.”
Taylor had never seen someone’s mouth move so fast or words come as quick as the chief’s in auction-mode. What were the numbers she being said?
“Nine hundred dollars.”
Taylor tried to look out past the lights to see who bid for him.
“Nine fifty.”
At least Taylor wouldn’t be a total embarrassment. Wait. Was that Ms. James the librarian who shouted? Did she even have that much of an income working at their little city library?
“One thousand dollars.”
Was that his mom? Heavens. Were the spotlights getting hotter? It was all he could do to not wipe the trickle of sweat off his neck. If people were going to bid over a thousand on him, he was going to make it worth their while.
He smoothed his strawberry-theme tie before he rolled up the sleeves on his button-down shirt all the while trying to fix his smolder on the crowd. That brought whistles and teasing from Mason and Corbin, but it worked to drive up the numbers.
“Fifteen hundred.”
“Seventeen hundred.”
Taylor strutted across the stage doing his best Matthew McConaughey moves. He held up his arm to show the crowd the huge strawberry tattoo on his forearm. It got the response he hoped for.
“Two thousand dollars.”
“Two thousand dollars and eighty-eight cents.”
Wait. What the—
“Sold to Mrs. Mary James. She comes with good book recommendations.”
The crowd tittered and cheered as Mrs. James approached the stage, waving a wad of dollar bills around. “I sold a rare first edition for tonight.”
Before he could fully process what happened, he stumbled down the stairs while wiping sweat from his brow.
His head felt a little fuzzy and he looked for a bench in the shadows to recover some of his dignity.
Chelsey sat in the same spot where he’d left her.
He plopped down beside her and dropped his head in his hands.
“Did that really just happen?”
“Yes, Taylor Compton, you and Mrs. James have a date in your near future.”
“At least I got Annie’s basket.”
“Folks.” The police chief waited for the noise to die down. “I need to remind you if you were the winning bid, please pay our lovely cashiers in the back. Thank you. And now, for the bachelor you’ve all been waiting for…Mason McCormick.”
The crowd erupted into a frenzied scream.
Grown women pushed their way to the front of the stage where the firefighters from before formed a protective line.
Mason ran up the steps and waved. He wore his cheesy I’m-a-guy-who-plays-baseball-and-gets-paid-for-it grin.
He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and rocked back on his cowboy-booted heels.
“Show us your guns!”
Mason obliged by flexing his biceps. Women shouted over one another and at least twenty bidding signs stayed in the air along with shouts of numbers.
As bidding reached four thousand, several signs dropped.
“Four four…five five…six. Six thousand dollars. Do I hear seven? Eight five…eight six…eight seven…”
Soon, the bidding came down to a handful of bidders—all women, of course. The crowd quieted as the money and the tension rose. Mason took off his cowboy hat and slowly ran a hand through his hair, easily upping the tension and the bids.
“This is insane.” Taylor turned to Chelsey. “Have you ever had a bid war this high?”
She shook her head. “Never. But I think there is a group of women who’ve pooled their funds for this.”
“Seriously? Is Mason that popular?” He glanced in the direction that Chelsey pointed. There were a lot of Daisy Dukes, pink boots and hats.
“Do you think they know they’re at the wrong venue? Should we tell them the rodeo is a couple of miles southwest of here?” He stood and acted as if he were going to walk over. Chelsey grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the bench, much closer to her side.
“Thank you for all your help this week. Tonight wouldn’t have been as successful without your talents.” She smiled at him. “Especially in the trenches.”
Taylor cupped her cheek, and the heady scent of coconut and strawberries made his heart rate speed up. “You should know I only did it for you.”
She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t move or break contact, which he took as a win. “Are you quoting Fitzwilliam to me?”