5. Chapter 5
Chapter five
T ap. Tap. Tap.
Carson’s arms were crossed, finger hammering against her forearm. Twenty minutes and still waiting. Raegan could at least have the courtesy of arriving on time, especially since she had begged Carson to be her plus-one at the charity auction.
Standing at the main entrance of Ponderosa Pines Conference Center, Carson observed event attendees dressed in fancy cocktail dresses and tuxedos bustling through the revolving glass door. She’d extracted her own little number from the back of her closet: a floor-length, ebony gown with long sleeves. It was one of Luke’s favorite dresses on her, particularly because the back exposed a great deal of skin from her neck to her hip line. The dress fit a little looser than Carson remembered it, though.
A light breeze rustled the leaves and brushed against her spine. The sun was on the verge of setting for the night, turning the sky sherbet orange. The venue sat on top of one of the highest hills in the area. Its grand architecture towered over the residents of Prescott, demanding attention from all those within sight. Except, Raegan was nowhere in sight, so Carson was left standing on the sidewalk like a lost puppy.
For the fifth time that night, Carson fished her phone out of her clutch. Scrolling through her work calendar, she wrinkled her nose. It was not looking any better than the past three weeks. Ever since she’d been denied the promotion, she’d chosen to take Garrett’s advice seriously and pour herself into her work. Carson was going to show him she had what it took to become junior partner. From early mornings to late nights, she’d had little time to think about anything else but her cases. Because her hands were busy with drafting court documents, she hadn’t harmed herself since the morning of the softball tournament . . . until last night.
Carson slid her palm down her side, feeling the hint of bandages just beneath the polyester. From her rib cage down to her hip were strewn new lines, the consequence of withholding for so long. Her body and mind were so numb, she hadn’t realized the damage until it was too late. The cuts were nearly all scabbed over, but the pain remained to remind her of how weak she was.
“This is ridiculous,” Carson said aloud, shoving her phone back into her little purse and snapping the clasp shut. Just as she was about to turn and walk back to her truck, she heard her name called. She spun around to find Raegan gliding up the side path, her turquoise gown shimmered in what was left of the sun’s light.
“I am so sorry. I had an emergency cavity filling at work. I got here as fast as I could,” Raegan apologized.
Carson plastered a smile on her face. “It’s fine. Where’s Hunter?”
Raegan adjusted her plunging neckline—a little too revealing, in Carson’s opinion—pulled out a tube of pink lipstick from her purse, and started applying it while she spoke. “He drove separately since I was running late. He should already be inside and checked in.” Then her eyes focused on something behind Carson. “Speaking of handsome firemen up for auction . . . ”
Carson turned to find Jax strolling up the main pathway between a few couples.
“Jax!” Raegan yelled.
Having only seen him in casual clothes Carson’s breath caught when she saw him in black tie. His short beard was tidier than the last time she had seen him at the consultation three weeks ago. Carson didn’t understand how his dark hair could appear harmoniously unruly and professionally styled at the same time. Her heart stammered in her chest. Maybe this event wouldn’t be as awful as she had thought.
Jax looked around, trying to find who called for his attention when he spotted the two friends. Recognition flashed across his face.
“Mr. Hoover, long time no see,” he said as he approached them. From the corner of her eye, Carson caught Raegan curiously tilting her head.
“Are you part of the auction too?” Carson asked.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Unfortunately.”
Now that he was closer, Carson noted how stiff the fabrics of his suit were. No signs of wear and tear. No dust smudges. Not even a speck. Luke always had some sort of stain on his clothes. It annoyed Carson beyond reason. Either Jax was an absolute clean freak, or he had just purchased this ensemble.
“You are the sexiest bachelor in all of Arizona,” Raegan said. “The ladies will be fighting over you. Now get inside. You’re going to be late for check-in.”
After surrendering their tickets, Carson and Raegan were ushered into the grand ballroom. Wide swooping canvases hung from the ceiling, giving the illusion of a large outdoor tent. Dozens of tables covered in black-and-white tablecloths filled a majority of the great room. The effect reminded Carson of a checkerboard. Centerpieces, stained glass and metal intricately forged to take on the shape of a flame, rested in the center of each table. A flickering light illuminated from within making the colors of the glass sway and dance. A band of strings and winds produced classical melodies that drifted about, filling any empty space. It felt extravagant and cozy.
Raegan pointed to one of the last empty tables. “Over here.”
They were only seated for a few seconds before a server stuck a silver platter filled with skinny glasses and exotic hors d’oeuvres underneath their noses.
“Something to eat or drink?” he offered in a nasal voice.
“Yes, please,” Raegan enthusiastically answered, swiping one of the tall glasses. The server picked up a pair of miniature, silver tongs and pinched a few of the morsels—morsels which Carson couldn’t identify, let alone recognize as edible—onto the plate already placed in front of Raegan.
He turned to Carson. “And for you, ma’am?”
The waft of alcohol accosted her nose, her stomach spasming. Never again. “No, thank you.”
As the young man pivoted, Raegan snatched another glass off the tray. “She still wants this.”
Sometimes Carson believed Raegan enjoyed having a sober friend. If only she knew the reason why Carson had chosen sobriety . . .
“Who are these smoking hot ladies?” Hunter slipped his big frame into the chair on the other side of Raegan. Like Jax, he wore a suit, only instead of a black bow tie, he had a thin turquoise tie that complemented Raegan’s dress, which had no doubt been her doing.
“I hear you’re a bachelor tonight,” Carson said.
Hunter rubbed a hand through his auburn hair, ruffled it a bit, then smoothed it over before leaning an arm on the table. “I’m a happily married man who has no idea why his wife wants to pimp him out.”
Raegan waved her hand dismissively. “I’m thinking of the children and all the money you’re going to raise for them.”
“Uh-huh.” Hunter placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Before it starts, I want to introduce you to someone.”
As Hunter and Raegan disappeared into the crowd, Carson continued to observe the variety of people around her, impressed at how well attended the event was. She wondered if it was like this every year, or if it was because this year’s live auction consisted of hot firemen. Additional stewards drifted around the room, serving those who were waiting for the main event to begin.
“Is this seat taken?”
Jax had come up from behind, gesturing to the chair next to Carson.
Butterflies. Little, tiny, cliché butterflies whirled in Carson’s gut before immediately turning into culpable moths.
Still, she shifted to make room. “It’s all yours.”
He slid into the seat, his cobalt eyes dazzling her. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” Then his gaze flicked to her forehead. “You got your stitches out.” With no hesitation he reached up to brush her curled hair out of the way, inspecting the scar. She was startled at his nonchalant touch, but even more startled by how it made her heart skip with trepidation.
“I got them out about two weeks ago, on my birthday,” she said, remembering how she had thought it was a treat getting her stitches out on her special day. Like a little birthday gift to herself. The surgical thread was starting to get annoying, and it was a relief to finally have them removed.
He lowered his arm. “When was your birthday?”
“August twenty-first.”
“Happy belated birthday.” He gave her forehead one more peek. “The doctor did a very nice job stitching you up. You probably won’t see it in a couple of years.”
Disappearing scars would make my life a whole lot easier , Carson thought.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” Jax added.
Carson flushed and raked her hands through her dark hair, hoping to tame any flyaways. Ever since the consultation, Noah had relentlessly tried to meddle, constantly asking if Jax had called her yet. Which Jax hadn’t. Carson forbade herself from deciphering what his lack of communication could mean and ignored why it made her feel disappointed.
“Thank you,” she said. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
“Honestly, I haven’t worn a suit since Kristen,” Jax admitted. “She always wanted me to dress fancy.”
“Guessing you don’t like dressing up?” Carson eyed his pristine suit again; confident he had just purchased it for this event and this event only.
“Not even a little. If I ever get married again, which I’m still debating since the last time didn’t work out so well, I’m going to show up in jeans and boots.” He tugged at his collar. “I might even shower.”
Carson laughed. “That will be one lucky bride.”
Their conversation came to a halt when Hunter and Raegan returned to the table.
“What are you two smiling about?” Raegan asked while Hunter pulled out her chair for her.
“My future wedding,” Jax said .
“Oh, great,” Hunter complained. “This time, can you choose someone who isn’t a traitorous wh—”
Raegan smacked Hunter’s arm.
Jax grinned. “That’s the goal.”
“So, are you going to explain to me why you called Carson, Mr. Hoover?” Raegan pried.
“I had a meeting at her office with him,” Jax explained. “Except he was busy, so she took over.”
“Really?” Raegan raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Why do you need to see an attorney?”
“Kristen got a new job, so I’m trying to end spousal maintenance.”
Raegan glanced at Carson. “Is that possible?”
“It’s possible.” Carson pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, giving her attention to Jax. “To be honest spousal support is rare for cases like yours. Judge Callaghan, who was assigned to your case, is a sucker for women’s sob stories in divorces. I typically don’t speak ill of the judges, especially at work and with clients, hence why I didn’t say anything during your consultation.”
Hunter shook his head. “I didn’t even know Kristen was capable of working.”
“Me either,” Jax fumed. “I’m still kicking myself for believing all her lies.”
Raegan looked nervously at Jax. “Are you sure you want to put yourself through all of that again? Since . . . you know . . .” Raegan, Jax, and Hunter exchanged glances as though there was a secret between them. A few times those glances were pointed at Carson.
Before Jax could answer, a screech from the speakers broke up their conversation. A short, plump man standing at the podium onstage lowered the mic to his height.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Get Active! Youth Sports Club Charity Auction,” he boomed in a baritone voice. “Thank you for joining us this Saturday evening.”
Carson adjusted in her seat to get comfortable. Except she couldn’t, because the tape from one of the bandages was tugging on the delicate skin on her stomach. She scooted forward a couple of inches and leaned back to allow the adhesive to lay flat. Much better.
The presentation was a little boring for her taste. But what fundraising event wasn’t? As expected, recognition was given to people who boasted about the so-called good deeds they were doing. Carson believed these events were not only for raising money but for rich people to flaunt how much of it they had and how they were better than everyone else because they donated it to help the needy. Maybe the money spent on the event should go to those in need instead of pampering the rich attendees. Yet she couldn’t say anything because she was there. I’ll leave a donation to make up for it , she promised herself.
The only enjoyable part was a short video of local youth projected on a large canvas. Tiny faces with round cheeks filled the screen. Toothless smiles and giggles warmed the coldness currently encasing Carson’s heart. These children were the reason why she got out of bed and put on makeup and heels. Why she had joined her friends for a night out instead of sulking on the couch.
Carson’s composure shattered when a little boy with a head full of curls waved shyly at the camera. She dropped her eyes to look at something, anything else, then elected to shut her eyes all together. Breathe .
A gentle nudge on her shoulder got her attention. She looked up at Jax who, without using his words, questioned her countenance .
She faked a smile.
“It’s time for the best part of the evening,” a new speaker said, her eggplant gown glistening in the lights. “Can our eligible bachelors please come forward?”
In unison, Hunter and Jax stood and followed the other beefy firefighter clones up to the stage.
“Oh, this is going to be good,” Raegan sang.
“Are you going to bid on Hunter?” Carson asked.
Raegan gave her a devious smile. “Nope.”
The auctioneer continued, “We have Prescott’s finest bachelors up for grabs tonight. And ladies”—she hid her mouth from the men on the stage with her hand—“they’re firefighters, and we all know what that means.” Then she whispered, “They’re good with their hoses.”
A rumble of laughter spread through the audience. Onstage, Hunter and Jax had taken their place in the middle of the row of men. Jax’s hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and he was entranced by something on the stage floor. Hunter whispered a comment to the guy next to him, and they both chuckled.
“You will be bidding on a date with one of these very fine gentlemen,” eggplant-dress lady continued. “Or more. I’m not here to judge. Pull out your pocketbooks, because the bidding starts now!”
The first firefighter, a blond man whose abs strained the limits of his dress shirt, stepped forward. Before the auctioneer could finish reading his bio, women in the audience began throwing out bids of two hundred, three hundred. Carson’s eyebrows rose with every increment until the auctioneer announced the winner, a brunette in a skintight, thigh-length dress, at twelve hundred dollars. Apparently, these people took charity very seriously .
“Wonderful!” the auctioneer cried. “Please find a seat next to your new date. Next, bachelor number two!”
As the auction played out, the firefighters would flex or spin to try and schmooze the audience. Carson couldn’t believe how much money some of the women were willing to spend for a date with a firefighter. It only proved her point about rich people flaunting their money.
Hunter’s turn came up. He sashayed into the spotlight, its light drowning out his freckled skin, and frivolously paraded himself like his fellow coworkers before him as if he were saying to Raegan, “Fine. If you’re making me be part of the auction, then I’m going to be part of the auction.”
“A thirty-three-year-old Arizona native, Hunter Olson, spends his spare time using his big, strong hands to give the most sensual massages . . .”
That was when Hunter pretended to drop something on the stage and proceeded to theatrically bend over to pick it up, showing off his backside to the audience.
“One thousand!”
Carson searched for the bidder who’d spoken. Much to Raegan’s visible delight, it was an elderly woman who could not have been a day younger than a hundred. Maybe even two hundred. Damn, she was old. Onstage, Hunter’s eyes bugged with uncertainty, perhaps realizing the reality of his situation.
Raegan, on the other hand, cackled. “My night just got better.” Then she scowled at Carson. “Don’t you dare bid on him.”
“Thirteen hundred!” a younger, more age-appropriate woman yelled. Hunter regained his composure and twirled. The little old lady shot her competitor a death glare and countered with fifteen hundred. Before Carson knew it there was a bidding war. Hunter cheered them on, soon becoming the most expensive date yet. Eventually the younger woman gave up, leaving the frail lady victorious at twenty-one hundred dollars. Her arthritic hands clapped as she celebrated her win.
Hunter stuck his tongue out at Raegan before descending the stage to meet the aged champion who enthusiastically threw her boney arms around him. One of those arms slid down and gave his butt a quick squeeze.
Tears were streaming down Raegan’s face from giggling. She used her table napkin to dab under her eyes. “And that’s why I love him.”
The voice of the auctioneer came over the speaker again. “Our next bachelor is thirty-two-year-old, Jax Miller, a born-and-raised Texan. The highest bidder may get a chance to learn if everything is bigger in Texas.”
Unlike Hunter, Jax didn’t brandish his body. He kept his hands in his pockets, his shoulders up by his ears. A bashful smile played on his lips.
“Let’s start the bidding!”
Immediately Jax locked eyes with Carson. His expression was pleading, almost forlorn. Then the connection was broken when someone cried out the first bid.
“One thousand!”
“Fifteen hundred!”
The shouting progressed. Carson observed the different women bidding on Jax. They were all lavishly attractive. She pictured him beside one of them, going out for dinner, him holding the door open, his date hanging on his arm.
Carson’s spine went rigid. Was physical touch part of the arrangement? What were the limits? She couldn’t remember them describing what a date with a firefighter entailed. Surely it was just platonic. It would be absurd if anyone would allow anything more than dinner. Oh, who was she kidding? They were adults and could do whatever they wanted.
Another bidder called out the next offer. Leaning back, Carson folded her arms across her chest, crossing her legs. Another bid. She rolled her eyes. These people were ridiculous. It was just a date, for crying out loud.
“Three thousand going once . . .”
Carson craned her neck to spot who might be the highest bidder; a woman squeezed into a green cocktail dress and a curtain of platinum hair. Kristen had blond hair, she recalled.
“Going twice . . .” A dramatic pause. “Sold!”
Carson flinched at the word. Jax nodded at the auctioneer and ambled down the steps toward the woman who had purchased him. The closer he got to her, the faster Carson’s heart beat in her chest, and the lower her shoulders sank. The woman stood to greet him, flipping her hair behind her before giving Jax what Carson believed was an inordinately long hug.
Uncomfortable, Carson squirmed in her chair. She was overreacting, but why? Why did she care about the way green-dress’ eyes twinkled at Jax or manicured hand lingered on his arm? Raegan’s own husband had been auctioned off, and she was acting perfectly rational. So why did Carson’s chest twinge at watching Jax take a seat next to the woman?
Just then, Jax caught her eye. He didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the woman’s advances either. As his eyes darted between Carson and his new date, his expression was somber.
Carson mustered a fake smile for him, wishing he would stop looking at her. Confused and flustered enough as it was, she didn’t need those ocean eyes muddling her thoughts even more.
Returning her attention to the stage, Carson wondered what Luke would do if he was there. If he had been a firefighter, Raegan would have most definitely forced him into the auction just like Hunter. And Carson would have allowed it. Both wives would giggle as their husbands tried their hardest to sell their bodies. She could imagine Hunter and Luke teaming up on stage and doing a silly dance or striking absurd poses. But, unlike Raegan, Carson would bid on him. Just like in the movies, where the main character would throw out a crazy amount of money and the whole room would gasp. She would give anything to be able to bid on Luke.
Finally, the last fireman was sold off, and the ceremony finished with a final speech from Prescott’s mayor. People began standing up and excitedly conversing with one another. Hunter and the feeble lady appeared at their table. Carson could detect the suffocating stench of moth balls emanating from her.
“Who are these . . . people?” rasped the old woman, giving them a disapproving leer.
“Gloria, I’d like to introduce you to my sister,” Hunter said, his hand extended toward Raegan.
Carson choked on her spit. Raegan scowled at Hunter, who glowered back with a twinkle in his eye.
“I’ll take good care of your brother,” said Gloria. “See you next week, dear.” Then, to Carson’s surprise, the little old lady slapped Hunter on the butt before waddling away.
Carson strolled over to the few tables overflowing with silent auction treasures: woven blankets with Indigenous designs, season tickets for the local football team, an obscure painting of . . . she had no idea what it was. Someone had even donated a signed photograph of Elvis Presley. Luke’s grandpa was a huge fan of The King of Rock and Roll. He would have loved to add another to his collection .
Eyeing a particular piece of jewelry—a copper ring embedded with circular raw turquoise that sat flush with the metal and two small Apache tear fragments bordering the main stone—she gently brushed the tip of her finger over it. According to the place card, it was her size, and she was tempted to bid on it. She balked when she saw the amount of the latest bid, five hundred dollars. But she promised she would donate money for the cause so she scribbled down a hundred dollars more than the last offer, not having much hope that she would win.
“Mr. Hoover.”
Jumping at the unexpected visitor, Carson slammed her hip into the table—the same hip that she’d maimed the night before. The table rocked once before settling, its load of items safe.
“Oof.” She tensed at the sharp, stinging pain and rubbed her side.
Jax was already reaching to console her. “I really need to stop hurting you. Are you okay?”
Not wanting to draw any more attention to her body, Carson dropped her own hands. “I’m fine,” she said. Then she noticed that Jax was alone. “Where’s your date?”
Jax’s lips fell disapprovingly. “She left. But I wanted to check out this stuff before I went home.”
“Oh . . . me too.”
“Are Hunter and Raegan still here?” he asked, as they inspected the next item, a ride on a Zamboni at the Roadrunner Sports Complex.
“They left a few minutes ago.”
“How do you know them?”
Stopping, she turned back to him. He was focused on her, seemingly uninterested in the silent auction.
“I’ve known Raegan since freshman year of high school,” Carson said. “ We were on the same volleyball team.”
“Were they already high school sweethearts when you met?”
“Not till senior year. I stole Raegan’s heart first.”
Jax’s eyes gleamed for a moment as they moved to the last table. A few other lingering guests were huddled around a gift basket full of expensive summer sausages and Wisconsin cheeses.
“Does that mean you’re from around here?” he asked.
The rough fibers of a woven blanket scratched Carson’s fingertips as she stroked it. “Yes,” she said. “Well, I was born in Phoenix and moved to Prescott just before high school.”
Jax also reached out and rubbed his palm on the blanket. “Oh? What made you move from Prescott to Chino Valley?”
The question made Carson retract her hand. She had loved living in Prescott. Loved the trees that offered shade and the natural landscaping of the giant granite boulders. She adored the first home she and Luke had purchased. It had taken them two years to save enough money to afford the down payment. A little two-story nestled in one of the hills. It was where they were going to raise babies . . .
Glancing at the other patrons, Carson hesitated before saying, “I was in a car accident that killed my husband and . . . unborn son. I couldn’t live in that house anymore.”
Subconsciously, she placed a hand to her stomach, where her baby had been. The memory of seeing his silhouette on the sonogram strip for the first time popped into her mind. She had told Luke she thought their son had his nose. Luke didn’t think so. Still, she had pictured birthing a miniature Luke with a head full of auric ringlets, imagining those spirals bouncing when he learned to walk.
Her chest ached knowing she never had the chance to see if he’d had Luke’s nose. Never got to kiss those baby cheeks. Never got to witness those first steps.
An emotion flashed across Jax’s face, as if he had just solved a puzzle. Then he frowned.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” His voice was tight.
“I didn’t think you were,” Carson assured him.
“My ma always tells me that I ask too many questions. Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it.”
There was a clatter from across the room. The event staff scurried over to a stack of chairs that toppled over.
“It’s getting late. I should get home,” Carson said, looking back at Jax.
“Right, late.” He peered down at the sizable titanium watch on his wrist. “Can I walk you out?”
“As long as you don’t try to jump me,” she joked.
“No promises.”
As he escorted her outside, where only a few other vehicles were scattered about, Carson recognized Jax’s truck on the opposite end of the parking lot before they had reached her own truck. Hers was newer and smaller than his. Black instead of red, gas instead of diesel, Toyota instead of Ford. Hers smelled like plastic and leather, not old dirt roads on a rainy day.
“Carson?” Jax leaned against the bed of her truck.
Before turning to him, she popped open her clutch to find her keys. “Yeah?”
Across the lot, a vehicle’s headlights swept across them. Quiet, Jax stared down at the asphalt beneath their feet. Finally, his eyes met her stare.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
Patiently, Carson waited for what he had to say. It was curious to watch him struggle with his thoughts, as he seemed to always be collected .
After another moment’s pause, he said, “I’m really sorry about what happened to your family.”
“Thank you.” Carson wasn’t convinced that’s what he was originally planning on saying. But the sincerity in his tone made her feel comforted in knowing she had made the right choice in telling him about the accident.
Clicking the key fob, she opened the driver’s door while he stood up straight and held the door open so she could climb in. He seemed poised in indecision, not ready for their conversation to end, for the night to end.
Surprisingly, so was she.
But then he said, “Goodnight, Carson.” And with one last look, Jax shut her door and vanished into the night.