Chapter 18
“You’re up next.” A woman with a headset who looks like she means business nudges me forward.
I peek around the curtain, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of the crowd of feral women around the stage. It feels like I’m a rare piece of meat about to walk into a den of hyenas.
I close the curtain before I’m spotted. Maybe there’s still time to back out. Better yet, run. I turn to make my escape, but the woman shoots me a look that keeps me rooted in place. She’d make a wonderful bodyguard. No one would dare come near her with that intimidating glare.
Looks like I’m trapped.
The emcee’s voice booms over the speakers. “All right, ladies, now you’re in for a real treat. Our final bachelor is none other than our local hero from Station 13, Connor Porter.”
“It’s Raining Men” blares over the speakers, and I’m too stunned to move.
I think I might be sick. I shake my hands out, trying to build up my confidence, when the woman in the headset practically shoves me through the curtain and onto the stage.
A spotlight hits me, and I hold my hand up to shade my eyes from the harsh light.
Once I can see again, I glance over at my crew to find Gordon snickering behind his hand.
Looks like he’s to thank for this walk-out song.
Shayna’s standing near them in a yellow sundress that matches her bright personality.
Knowing she’s in the same room as me and feeling her positive presence radiating as she smiles at me helps ground me.
I take a deep breath. Focus, Porter. Don’t trip. And don’t glare at the audience. Not sure that would win me any dates. My crew would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t even get bid on.
I remember Captain’s words. This is for charity, for the kids. I can do it for them.
My lips pull into a smile that feels more like a grimace as the emcee reads my intro.
“Connor has been a firefighter for nine years and just moved back to his hometown of Louisville.” He pauses as the crowd cheers.
I don’t really understand the sentiment of cheering for us living in the same city, but to each their own, I guess.
“In his first week on the job at Station 13, he saved a local woman from a flower-shop fire.”
Excited murmurs ripple through the crowd as I watch women ready their bidding paddles. I swallow hard and shift on my feet, hating all this attention on me, especially at the mention of me simply performing my job.
“When he’s not at the station, Connor enjoys fishing, woodworking, and listening to country music, which is why he would never want to live without his noise-canceling headphones.
His family and friends describe him as pragmatic, hardworking, loyal, and someone who is willing to help others at the drop of a hat.
He’s looking for someone who will be the social butterfly to his introverted spirit and is willing to accept him just as he is.
Connor’s ideal date involves outdoor activities like fishing and taking a lucky lady on a picnic.
Don’t miss out on the man who has been dubbed Mr. Hero Hottie. ”
I grit my teeth. Who is calling me Mr. Hero Hottie? It better be absolutely no one. My face feels as red as a fire engine.
“Let’s start the bidding at fifty dollars.”
I have to stop my eyes from bugging out. Who in their right mind would pay fifty dollars to go on a date with me?
A woman who looks to be in her late twenties, with her hair slicked back so tightly in a ponytail that it looks like it’s pulling her forehead back with it, raises her paddle in the front row before shooting me a suggestive grin.
That answers my question. In a very unfortunate way, but an answer nonetheless.
I glance over at my crew and make eye contact with Fisher. He does a variety of flexes. My brow furrows. He’s never been one for showboating before, but… Oh, now he’s pointing at me. Fisher wants me to flex. He hasn’t seemed to steer me wrong before, so I decide it’s worth a shot.
Honestly, I’d do anything at this point to have anyone bid on me other than Ponytail. I’d even take the grandmother in the back who’s eyeing me like I’d be the perfect man to do all the grunt work around her house. That actually might be my best-case scenario.
Before I can second-guess my actions, I ball up my fists and flex. The paddles go flying into the air.
“I have one hundred. Do I have one fifty?” The emcee points to another woman in the crowd. “One fifty—do I have two hundred?”
I slide a hand into my turnout pants and grab hold of my suspenders with the other. I hear a lady in the front row audibly sigh. Maybe Gordon was onto something with the whole “badge bunny” thing after all.
Women in the crowd start shouting out increasing bids faster than the emcee can keep up. I run a hand through my hair, not knowing what to do with all this attention on me. More paddles shoot into the air.
Seriously? What’s special about ruffling my hair?
“All right, we are at seven hundred dollars. Do I hear seven fifty?”
Ponytail raises her paddle in the air and shoots me a flirtatious wink.
“Wonderful. This is officially our highest bid of the night.” The emcee smiles widely. “Do I hear eight hundred?”
I know that the grandma tapped out at a few hundred dollars, but thankfully there’s the woman who just bid seven hundred.
My eyes search for her in the crowd. When I finally spot her, she looks at her phone and shakes her head with a sigh.
I feel my stomach drop. No. I wasn’t excited about the prospect of a date, but spending the entire afternoon dodging Ponytail’s advances sounds even worse.
I attempt to smile again and make my pecs dance against the taut material of my T-shirt, a trick I learned I could do by chance a few years ago. I’ve never shown another soul that I can do that, but I’m pulling out all the stops, begging someone else—anyone else—to bid on me.
“Seven fifty going once. Seven fifty going twice.”
I close my eyes, unable to bear looking at Ponytail’s face when she realizes she gets to spend a whole afternoon with me.
“One thousand dollars.”
I lift my head as gasps erupt across the room. I think one of them might have even been mine because I recognized that voice. I look at Shayna’s raised paddle and feel the relief flooding my veins.
“Going once, twice.” The emcee gestures to Shayna. “And the date goes to the woman in yellow for one thousand dollars.”
Ponytail turns around, probably to shoot daggers at Shayna, but she doesn’t seem to notice because her eyes are locked on mine.
The spotlight is in my eyes and she’s at the back of the crowd, so it’s hard to tell how she’s feeling.
All I can see is my sister grabbing Shayna’s arm, her mouth agape, before the woman with the headset comes back and leads me off the stage while the emcee talks over the speakers about how that was the biggest donation they’ve ever received for a single date.
I inhale a sharp breath. I forgot that Shayna just shelled out one grand. It better not have been money she was supposed to allocate for her business. I couldn’t forgive myself if I set her back.
The lady in charge stops when we reach a large room where I see the other firefighter bachelors chatting with women I’m assuming are their dates. “Wait here.”
I do as requested because I’m more than a little terrified of finding out how she’d react if I didn’t listen to her.
I place my hands in my pockets and stare at my feet as I wait.
A few minutes later, she returns with a smiling Shayna at her side.
Warmth swells inside of me. I chalk it up to extreme gratitude that I get to spend the afternoon with her rather than the overeager woman.
But there’s a feeling deep inside trying to climb to the surface that I snuff out, scared it’s an ember that’s trying to grow into a flame I can’t ignore.
I don’t have a choice other than to ignore it. It’s like I told myself before, Shayna deserves more. Someone who wants all the things she does. Not a reserved guy like me who values my solitude. I wouldn’t be a good long-term partner. Or a good partner, period.
Headset lady speaks to me without looking up from her clipboard.
Not sure what’s so important on there at a charity event that she can’t even bother to maintain eye contact, but who am I to judge when I’m usually the wallflower in any room I’m in?
“Connor, this is Shayna, the woman who won a date with you.”
I don’t even have a chance to say thank you before she’s already gone, buzzing about something else into her headset.
I rock on the balls of my feet, hands still in my pockets, as I finally get a good look at Shayna.
I’m not sure what I expected her demeanor to be, but I certainly didn’t think I’d see a determined set in her gaze.
“Why did you bid on me?” I ask.
Shayna takes a step closer. She’s so close, I could reach out and brush my knuckles along her perfectly pink cheeks.
Not that I want to. “You told me to figure out what I like.” She traces her fingers along my suspenders before gently snapping them against my pectoral muscle.
I’m too stunned to move. “Truth is, I’ve always known what I want—I was just too scared to go for it. ”
My brain rushes to catch up. There’s no way I heard her correctly.
Or maybe Mallory put her up to this prank.
I look down into Shayna’s eyes, expecting to see a teasing glint, but there’s nothing but a soft, earnest look in her gaze with a hint of vulnerability.
No, I heard her loud and clear. This wasn’t a joke or something I’m reading into.
Shayna wants me.
Correction: Shayna said she’s always wanted me.