Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
ALLISON
Five days later
“So how does this work?” Allison yelled over the chatter as she and Olivia walked through the Food Bank Date Auction.
“Well, it gets rowdy,” Olivia said, pitching her voice above the noise, “but it’s all in good fun. Each guy will have a date they’ve planned, and that’s what you bid on. It’s all platonic, obviously.”
Allison had fielded endless texts from Wells in the last week, teasing her about what date she’d bid on. If they should have a secret signal when her delicate feelings would be hurt if she was outbid for him.
She’d told him she would not be bidding, obviously.
It had only egged him on for some reason.
It had been, simply put, flirting. But he was a flirtatious, chatty guy. He loved to joke, make people laugh. Just Wells being Wells as they waited to see if the last round of trying stuck.
Every woman in town was decked out in her sparkly best, having fun with her girlfriends, drinking cocktails and mocktails.
Allison had expected the event to be only the older ladies of Fairwick Falls, but every woman was out tonight.
Women in their twenties, thirties, forties, looking gorgeous.
She pushed away the irritation at the thought of them bidding on Wells’s date.
Good for them. They can be stuck with his teasing for a night.
Olivia grabbed a champagne glass from a passing waiter. “Mostly, it’s drinking for a good cause.”
They weaved through the crowd to their table, where Pearl, Rose, Lily, and Violet were already seated. “Look at you two; you’re so pretty,” Violet said with a happy clap.
Allison had chosen a clinging sage cocktail dress with a plunging neckline and high slit in the skirt. She wanted to wear it one last time before (she hoped) she’d be too big to wear it.
“Hot Girl Group Chat in the flesh and lookin’ so fuckin’ hot,” Pearl catcalled, her hands in long black gloves curved around her mouth like a megaphone.
The lights dimmed, and catcalls and whoos rang out into the dark as a small spotlight hit the front of the stage, where Martha—decked out from head to toe in silver sparkly sequins—lit up like a disco ball in the spotlight.
“Hello, ladies,” she said into a microphone. “I hope you brought your wallets to raise some money for our beloved food bank.”
The rowdy table at the front of the room held up their champagne glasses and wallets, and the other ten tables in the room yelled, too.
Allison’s bag buzzed twice on her lap, and she pulled her phone out of her beaded vintage clutch.
WELLS
I hope you win tonight. I was thinking I could cook shirtless.
Whoops, sorry. Wrong person.
Allison shook her head, knowing this was a trap.
Just ignore it.
He’s just baiting you.
But as the chairperson from the Fairwick County Food Bank talked on stage, it tugged at the back of her mind. Her lips twitched with a smile as she typed a message back.
ALLISON
I assume that message was for Beulah?
Beulah was a crotchety woman in town, roughly eighty-three years old, with the personality of a ceramic garden toad.
WELLS
So funny, Styles.
She waited for another text to come through, teasing her.
And waited.
Maybe it really was for someone else?
The chairperson kept talking, and Allison scanned the crowd.
Who had he been texting? There were several beautiful women she only knew in passing, and he knew practically everyone in town.
ALLISON
Turning this charity date into a real one?
WELLS
The contract says we can date who we like, right?
She sipped her cucumber and mint mocktail to calm the irritation that washed over her.
Who was he texting about cooking shirtless for them?
She didn’t even know that was an option. And now it’s all I can think about.
She finally gave in.
ALLISON
Who was that text for??
“So which one are you going to bid on?” Lily waggled her eyebrows at Allison.
“I don’t know. How about you?” Allison said, deftly avoiding the trap.
“I might bid on Tiny’s date,” Pearl said, pondering. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to make browned butter bourbon pancakes.”
“I think you might get trounced. I smell bloodlust,” Olivia said, nodding her head toward the front tables full of rowdy octogenarians.
She stared at her phone, waiting for Wells to message her back. She could see that he’d seen the message.
Left me on read, the bastard.
The evening kicked off with shouts of numbers for dates with Marco, a handsome guy who worked for Gray, and Dave, the owner of the Thirsty Beaver.
Between bids, Allison checked her phone. A completely reasonable number of times. Tiny went next. A bidding war broke out between Pearl and Beulah, and poor Tiny looked terrified as Beulah snarled the winning bid.
Finally, Wells took the stage, and Allison’s stomach jumped.
He looked dashing in a tux. All the guys had been instructed to wear their very best, according to Olivia.
His date was a VIP pass to the Fairwick Falls Frost Fest, a private dinner made by him—apparently shirt optional—and a one-hour dance lesson.
“Now, this strapping young man,” Martha said, patting her enormous son’s back, “can make a hell of a burger, and he’s somehow retained everything I ever taught him about how to waltz. His date starts at one hundred dollars.”
A chorus of oohs rang through the room.
Wells tugged on his cuffs like a James Bond wannabe and stared directly at Allison, challenging her with a single eyebrow raise.
Daring her.
She fumed into her mocktail, trying not to let her frustration show. He could date whoever he wanted.
Obviously.
That was specifically in their contract. She didn’t care if he spent time with other people.
Plus, who was she going to get jealous of? A cute old lady who wanted a fun night out?
“Two hundred dollars,” a pretty thirty-something woman called from across the room. Titters and oohs and ahhs sounded. Wells’s smile warmed as he nodded in recognition at her.
Wait. The bidder is supposed to be a cute old lady. Not someone age-appropriate with a blowout.
He’d been baiting her, right? There wasn’t actually someone he’d texted about cooking for them shirtless.
“Two twenty-five,” a voice called from the other side of the room. It was Jessica, the waitress at the diner.
Oh god. Was it her? Did he mean to text Jessica? She was pretty, young. They spent plenty of time together.
“Oh, interesting.” Olivia waggled her eyebrows. “I wonder if she has a crush on her boss.”
“Two fifty!” the first woman shouted.
“Who is that woman?” Allison said to Lily with more urgency than she’d like to admit.
Lily grimaced. “Jennifer. The worst.”
“Single?” Allison asked, watching Wells charm everyone.
“I think so,” Lily said.
“Three hundred,” one of the gorgeous Lopez sisters called.
Allison’s heartbeat thundered for some reason as everything was getting away from her.
“I hear three hundred,” Martha said, acting as auctioneer. “This is for a good cause, ladies. And look at this strapping young man—he’d probably be able to lift heavy furniture if you needed him to, to make a dancing space.”
“I did not agree to furniture moving,” Wells said into his mom’s microphone, and the audience giggled.
Giggled!
She scowled in irritation. She didn’t like this.
He winked at her, and she stabbed the cheesecake in front of her, taking a bite.
“Do I hear three fifty? Three fifty? Here,” his mom said. “Let’s give them a demonstration on how good of a dancer you are.”
Wells wrapped his arm around his tiny mom’s back, bending down and doing a quick two-step with her on the stage, twirling her around gently.
“Three fifty!” Jennifer called from around the side, laughing with her friends.
“Four hundred!” Jessica called from the other side of the room.
Allison’s blood boiled hotter with every number called out.
“Five hundred,” Jennifer said with a throaty laugh, biting her lower lip flirtatiously. Wells winked at her.
He winks at other women?
“Five hundred for the pretty lady in pink,” Martha said. “Do I hear five fifty?”
“Will you wear your tux when you cook?” Jennifer called out.
Wells leaned into the mic. “I’ll wear, or not wear, whatever you want,” he said in a flirty voice. Screams coming from Jennifer’s table made Allison’s jaw clench.
Allison thought of Wells shirtless. The pillowy muscles and softness she craved.
Some other woman’s hands in his chest hair, smelling the scent she loved.
Him kissing her.
His head between someone else’s thighs.
Absolutely fucking not.
“A thousand dollars!” Allison blurted out, seething at Jennifer.
“Sold,” Martha said quickly. “A thousand dollars for a date with Wells to the very tall, beautiful florist in green.”
Wells looked victorious as she locked eyes with him.
Coming back to her senses, she squeezed her eyes shut. Shit. All the blood rushed to her cheeks as she realized what she’d just done.
Just outed herself as a jealous crush-haver for Wells Maroo.
In front of the entire, gossipy town.
“Have you lost your mind?” Pearl laughed, surprised, as everyone clapped.
Allison nodded, staring blankly. “I think so,” she whispered.
I’ll never hear the end of this.
Wells proudly sauntered off the stage, twirling a rose between his large fingers.
“What is going on with you two?” Lily said with a laugh.
She shook her hair back, regaining composure. “I just can’t wait to make his life miserable. That’s all.” She smiled as if this had been the plan all along.
The rest of her table’s expectant, smiling faces stared up at Wells as he walked over, enjoying this far too much.
He set the rose down in front of her and brushed a slow kiss on her cheek. She stared ahead, not leaning into him, even though she wanted to.
He whispered in her ear, “You know I love it when you glare at me. I’m already half-hard.”
Allison sucked in a breath and sat up straighter, not acknowledging what he said. Without another word, he walked toward the bar.