Chapter 37 The Bachelor Auction Trope #3
I raised my paddle. Sure, I was a little confused about our convo, but I wasn’t giving up.
“Do I hear fifty?”
A woman who I had seen ordering grilled cheese and French fries for at least four kids raised her paddle. Too bad for her. I raised mine and said, “One hundred dollars.”
In the spirit of friendly competition, I made an I’m-watching-you sign with my fingers at my competitor. She stared straight into my eyes and held up her paddle. With a heart deader than mine, she said, “One fifty.”
That’s when Vlad raised his paddle. “Two hundred,” he said in a firm voice, loud enough to be heard across a battlefield, confident enough to inspire men to risk their lives.
My jaw dropped. “Vlad,” I cautioned.
“What?” He shrugged. “It’s for charity.”
“You jealous prick!” I whispered angrily.
“Yes. I’m jealous. I admit it.”
I raised my paddle to signal him to stop. “Two twenty-five.”
The mom of four who I was about to take down shot her paddle into the air. “Two forty.” A man who was probably her husband flashed a look of shock. “Really?” he asked.
“Well, I need someone handy for the laundry room project.”
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll do it.” At that hollow promise I could see the fight go out of her.
I lifted my paddle. “Two fifty.”
Vlad raised his. “Two seventy-five.”
I shot mine up immediately. “Two ninety.” I bared my fangs and hissed just loud enough for him to hear. “He’s mine, Vlad.”
He took a took a step closer to me. While looking directly into my eyes, his gaze burning with heat, he held up his paddle and declared, “No, you’re mine, Tiffenie.” For Mariah, he shouted, “Three hundred.”
“Then why are you trying to buy him?”
Nose to nose with Vlad, the air between us charged with electricity, I raised my paddle again. “Three ten.”
“You know what I want to do with this paddle, Tiffenie?”
I cocked my head. Coyly, I asked, “What, Vlad? Explain.”
“I think we could skip the light taps. You’re sufficiently warm for a spanking. I know you like a little sting.” The words sizzled on his tongue.
He was right. What was pleasure without pain? But I stepped in again, so close that I would be able to feel his breath if he had any. “Back off, Vlad. You will never pink this ass again.”
Firmly and confidently, Vlad called, “Three twenty-five.”
“Love is not war, Vlad. You can’t win me like this.” But as I said it, I was overheated, from…anger and something more. Who was I kidding? I liked him jealous.
Almost at the tip-top of my budget, I gripped the paddle for dear life. In the spirit of reckless spending, I lifted my paddle and said, “Three hundred thirty-five dollars and sixty-seven cents!” This was the exact amount left in my bank account.
Mariah B. Gary gasped. “The drama!” She looked at Tyrone. “The tree farming business is good, ladies!”
“To the lady in the elven princess gown for—” Before Mariah could finish her sentence, Vlad held his paddle up. Loud and slow, with the authority of his title and his seven hundred years on earth, he said, “Ten thousand dollars.” He looked me directly in the eye as he said it.
I gasped and reared back. “You. You.” I shook my head and scowled, shooting lasers at him with my eyes. Vlad didn’t even glance at the bachelor he’d won. He just stood there looking smug. I pulled back my arm with the paddle as if to hit him, before thinking better of it.
Jessica fanned herself. “Is anyone else feeling heated?”
I glanced at Tyrone, who looked confused, which made sense. My ex was spending ten thousand dollars to send a message. A message to both of us, really. Hopefully Tyrone liked a challenge.
What kind of idiotic grand gesture was this?
Gasps could be heard throughout the gym at the outrageous bid, the loudest from Mariah B. Gary, who, after she’d caught her breath and fanned her face, repeated, “Ten thousand dollars! Valentine, meet your new daddy! Daddy,” she said in a very serious tone, “what’s your name?”
Vlad only had eyes for me, his gaze smoldering a path all the way from his blackened soul to mine. Without looking away, he said, “Vlad.” He dropped the name with all the subtlety of America entering a foreign war.
“Well, Vladdy”—Mariah looked right at Vlad—“you can have me instead if you want, or as part of the package.” She winked. “I’m available.”
It took all my willpower not to slap Vlad across the face with my paddle. He had followed me to Valentine, moved into my house, and now outbid me at the bachelor auction.
Jessica waved coquettishly at Vlad and did a shoulder shrug. To me, she said, “Your ex is sexy as hell.”
“Not once you know him.” Actually, he was. But I would never tell him that, especially after tonight.
There was a brief interruption as a woman charged up the stage and took the mic. She whispered to Mariah B. Gary, who said, “Linda isn’t on the program, but she should have been. Here we go, Valentine.”
In a pair of Carhartt double-knee loggers and a flannel shirt, Linda gave Mariah B. Gary a single nod of thanks. Damn right she should have been on the program.
Mariah flipped her hair imperiously. “Tell us a little about yourself, Linda.”
“I’m a fifty-eighty-year-old lesbian. I own a van. I’m a plumber.”
Fuck it. I held up my paddle. “Three hundred dollars.”
The place went deadly silent.
“Sold for three hundred dollars to the princess from Lord of the Rings! That’s it for our bachelor auction. Merry Christmas, Valentine!”
Jessica nodded in my direction. “I like your style, Tiff.”
I shrugged and headed to collect my date. I held out my hand for Linda and helped her down the stage like the true prize she was and said, “I’ve been looking for a plumber.”