Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
“Going once. Going twice. Sold!” Emery pointed a gavel at a table near the center of the room. “To the lady in the green shirt for two hundred dollars.”
The woman squealed and ran up to the stage to claim her “prize.”
The entire scene made Britt nauseous. She didn’t have a problem with Emery auctioning off men because it was for a good cause. Plus, they’d signed up for it.
Linc had signed up for it. That’s the part that made her nauseous.
He had to. It’s his job.
That’s what he’d told her. She knew his boss, Sid, could be a hard ass when he wanted to be.
After all, he’d made Emery stay on top of a donut shop for a twenty-four-hour charity fundraiser last year, and she was deathly afraid of heights.
If Sid wanted Linc to be part of the auction, there wasn’t much he could do about it without pissing off his boss.
But he’s married.
Not really. Well, not intentionally, and they wouldn’t be married for long.
Ugh. Even thinking that made her stomach queasy.
Her momma was going to blow a gasket if she ever found out.
On top of that, she hadn’t told Linc what she’d gone and done.
She should’ve given him a heads up, even though he’d probably be relieved.
“What did that straw ever do to you?”
Startled, Britt followed Skye’s line of sight to the mangled straw she had twisted around her fingers. She dropped it on the table and folded her hands in her lap.
“Nothing. I’m just bored.”
Bored? Try losing it.
“Of course, you are. Who wouldn’t be bored watching gorgeous guys strut their stuff?”
Britt looked up to find Jake’s best friend and fellow fire fighter, Logan, currently doing one-armed push-ups on stage.
“Damn, that man is fine,” Skye commented, then grabbed the paddle off the table and waved it above her head. “One fifty!” she shouted.
“You have the hots for Nash?” Jake asked her, blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
Logan Nash could be Grizzly Adam’s hot, younger brother. He was sweet as a puppy, if that puppy had tatted muscles for days and ran into burning buildings for a living.
“I’ve got the hots for his abs,” Skye snarked. “Let’s just say, if our date ended up being a picnic, I’d have no problem using him as a charcuterie board.”
Laurel literally spit out her drink. “Oh, my heck, Skye! You did not just say that!”
“Pretty sure I did.” She lifted the paddle again and shouted, “Two twenty-five!” Another woman outbid her before she’d even lowered it. “Bitch.”
“What?” Jake taunted. “Giving up already?”
“That’s past my limit.”
Jake shrugged. “I wouldn’t pay that much for him either.”
“Want me to lend you some money?” Britt offered.
The bid had already been raised a few more times. “Eh.” Skye scanned the room. “I’m sure I can pick up something free on the way out.”
Britt snickered. It helped ease the tension in her tummy. At least, it did until Skye added, “Besides, you’re going to want to save your money for yourself.” She tilted her head toward the stage.
Emery had confirmed Logan had sold for three hundred twenty-five dollars and was now dragging Linc to center stage. The gasoline-soaked pile of stress Britt had been trying to keep in check burst into flames when Emery untied Linc’s tie and partially unbuttoned his dress shirt.
He said something to Emery Britt couldn’t hear, but it made the redhead don a sinister smile before reaching for another button.
Four buttons? Really?
“See something you like?” Skye taunted.
Like? She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.
Why are four buttons necessary?
Britt chewed on her thumb, eyes glued to where Linc’s shirt gaped open enough to prove her best friend wasn’t a stranger to the gym.
Four buttons is overkill.
“Okay, ladies!” Emery said into the mic. “Who’s into hot nerds?” Linc gave her the side-eye and everyone laughed. Everyone except Britt, that is.
Emery blew him a kiss before continuing. “My illustrious co-host is up for grabs. And if glasses, and I’ll admit, a nice chest do it for you, look no further.”
“Fifty dollars!” a gal shouted.
Emery laughed. “I was about to say let’s open the bidding, but apparently, we already have. Do I hear seventy-five?”
“Why does she look familiar?” Britt asked, studying the woman who’d bid.
“Seventy-five!” the same woman shouted.
“No clue,” Skye answered, “but she just bid against herself, so she’s definitely wasted.”
“Eighty dollars!”
Skye snickered. “She did it again. Drunk girl wants him bad.”
Britt tensed at the thought.
Damn four buttons.
“One hundred!” a pretty brunette piped up.
“One fifty!” the drunk woman screamed.
Britt saw Linc stiffen. Emery must have noticed because she paused, holding a hand up like a visor above her eyes to block out the stage lights as she studied the woman. Britt could tell the woman’s identity registered with Emery the same time it clicked for her.
Oh, no.
The woman was Linc’s own personal version of “Creepy Bruce.”
Creepy Bruce was a guy Jessa had met on the internet and went on one date with before she got together with Chase.
He’d turned into a stage-five clinger, kept calling and texting, and wouldn’t leave her alone.
That’s how he’d earned the nickname “Creepy Bruce.” Jessa had to talk Chase into pretending to be her boyfriend to get rid of him.
Turns out their fake dating was the best thing that had ever happened to them because they were still together with no signs of slowing down.
The drunk chick bidding on Linc had been showing up at every event KISS FM hosted for the last year.
She’d follow him around and get into his personal space.
Proposition him and then get all huffy when he’d turn her down.
She was annoyingly pushy when she was sober, but sloshed? That added a whole new level of cringe.
Skye squinted. “Isn’t that Stalker Barbie?”
Britt choked on a laugh. They’d never actually given her a nickname before, but she was wearing all pink, had overly bleached blonde hair, and questionably real breasts.
Granted, they might be real, but Britt couldn’t recall meeting a woman as stacked as this one who could wear a tiny tank top with no bra and still have the girls standing at attention like gravity didn’t exist. Maybe a few unicorns were out there, but in the eighteen years she’d competed in pageants, beginning at age four, she had never come across one.
Barbie was also wearing enough makeup to make her look practically plastic, so, yeah, the moniker fit. Didn’t someone calculate what Barbie’s proportions would be if she was actually human? Something like a bust measurement over twice the size of her waist and size three feet?
That’s probably why her shoes would never stay on.
Because they never did.
They always fell off.
So annoying.
Why am I thinking about a doll’s feet?
“Man, she has a hard-on for him,” Skye said, focusing Britt’s attention back to the drunk girl. “Are you going to save him from her or what?”
An image of Stalker Barbie and Linc sitting on a couch with him rubbing her freakishly small feet accosted her brain.
Her paddle flew up without a second thought. “One seventy-five!”
“Attagirl!”
Britt couldn’t care less about Skye’s praise. The look of silent relief in Linc’s eyes justified her bid.
“Two hundred!” Barbie said.
Dammit.
The brunette lifted her paddle. “Two twenty-five!”
Good, the brunette was still bidding. As long as he didn’t get stuck with Stalker Barbie, that was a good thing, right?
So, why was her stomach back to doing an impression of a tangled ball of Christmas lights?
Barbie waved a wad of cash in the air. “Two-fifty!”
Damn. Britt couldn't afford to raise the bid since her rent was due before her next paycheck and there wasn’t enough in her budget to cover that along with a higher bid. Looking over at the brunette’s table, she found her counting dollar bills.
“Two hundred sixty dollars,” the brunette called after stacking the bills into a pile. She’d only bumped the bid by ten dollars instead of the twenty-five dollar increments she had previously been bidding. She must be tapped out too.
“Three hundred!” Stalker Barbie shouted.
Everyone turned to the brunette, who frowned and shook her head.
“Here.” Skye stuffed the two hundred twenty-five dollars she’d bid on Logan into Britt’s hands. “I’m donating to the cause.”
With a smile of thanks—strictly because Britt wanted to spare Linc from having to go on a date with his rabid fan, and not because she didn’t want him to go on a date at all—she took the cash and raised the paddle. “Four hundred twenty-five dollars!”
Emery quickly raised her gavel, but before she could slam it down to end the bidding?—
“Four hundred fifty!” Barbie screamed, bouncing in her seat.
“Seriously, bitch?” Skye grumbled.
Four hundred and fifty dollars?
Britt scanned their table. Jessa had excused herself a little while ago, probably to get another drink, so the only people left were Laurel and Jake.
“Sorry,” Laurel said. “I didn’t bring any cash. Jake?”
“Plastic. Guess Pierce is on his own.”
Bids had to be paid for in cash. Apparently, last year when they’d held this same fundraiser, someone’s check had bounced, and another person had cancelled their credit card charge. What kind of scum places a bid for charity, then stiffs them?
“Do I hear four seventy-five?” Emery directed that comment toward Britt.
Even though it killed her to do so, she gave a small shake of her head. Some best friend slash wife she was.
“Can I get four seventy-five from anyone?” Emery implored the audience. When there were no takers, she turned toward Linc with a sympathetic look.
He let out a heavy sigh, apparently resigned to his fate.
“Four sixty? How about four hundred sixty?”
“Poor Linc,” Skye commented. “Stalker Barbie will eat him alive.”
Jake chuckled. “The chick’s a whack job, but look on the bright side.”
“Okay.” Emery scanned the room looking for paddles. No one raised one. “Four hundred fifty dollars…”
“He’ll probably get laid.”
Wait. Laid?
“Going once…”
Laurel gasped and slapped his arm. “Jake!”
“What?”
Would Linc really sleep with someone like that?
“Going twice…”
If he would, she didn’t know him at all.
Emery looked at Linc one more time, a silent “I’m sorry” in her deep green eyes. She raised the gavel. “Sol?—”
“One thousand dollars!”
The entire room froze on a collective gasp, then spun into overdrive as people swiveled in their chairs, some even standing to see who’d bid that exorbitant amount.
“One thousand dollars once, twice, sold!” Emery quickly declared, slamming her gavel to end the bidding.
Stalker Barbie started whining about not getting to up her bid. Emery ignored her, smiling so wide, it had to hurt. From the higher vantage point on stage, she must’ve been able to see who’d laid down a grand for her co-host.
Still standing center stage, Linc was grinning like a man who’d just dodged a firing squad.
Britt turned around in time to watch the crowd part like the Red Sea as a very short, determined figure approached.
“I just paid one thousand dollars for you, Lincoln, so this better be a damn good date!”