“He’s blushing,” Pris cried. “How adorable.”
“Do not bid on him,” Drew commanded, only to be shushed by Lola, who wrapped her arms around her man and kissed him.
“Say a few words, Mr. King.” Mims held the microphone in front of him.
“Hey, y’all. I’m proud to be a cowboy.” He paused for the squeals of enthusiasm. “And a man of few words.” He tilted his cowboy hat rakishly, drawing more cheers from the bidding pool near the front of the stage.
Pris was wearing a blouse meant for trouble and an expression to match. She stood on the bar stool’s rungs, thrusting her hand into the air and shouting, “Two hundred dollars.”
Iggy’s mouth fell open.
Pris sat back down as the bidding rocketed up to three hundred, to the delight of the crowd.
“Aren’t you going to jump back in?” Darcy shouted at her.
Pris shrugged, yelling back, “It’s best to let a man wonder sometimes.”
Drew clapped his palms on Pris’s and Darcy’s shoulders. “As your older brother, Pris, I forbid you to date Iggy King.” He gave Darcy a look and said, “Don’t encourage her.”
Pris’s hand shot up. “Three hundred ten dollars!”
Lola pulled a scowling Drew back into her arms.
“Do you want a date with Iggy or are you just pushing Drew’s buttons?” Darcy asked.
“Both.” Pris had a mischievous grin that rivaled Iggy’s.
“Three twenty-five.”
The crowd quieted, highly unusual for auction night. But the bidding was unusual too.
“Was that Barbara Hadley?” Darcy craned her neck, trying to find the bidder. “It was.”
Pris set her jaw. “Three thirty.”
“Three thirty-five.” Barb again.
The crowd parted for Barb, not only because she was the town queen bee and the mayor’s ex-wife, but also because everyone loved a good fight over a love interest.
“Don’t let Barb get him,” Lola said to Pris. She and Barbara had a not-so-pleasant history.
“Loan me a twenty.” Pris got to her knees on the bar stool. “Three forty.”
Iggy posed for the bidders, making muscles.
“Three forty-five,” Barb countered, staring right at Iggy.
And the way he stared back…There were sparks.
“Three fifty.” Pris looked down at their group. “I really need that twenty.”
Lola held up her hands. “I didn’t bring my purse.”
“Don’t look at me.” Drew grinned. “I’m pulling for Barb to land trouble, not you.”
“Four hundred dollars!” Barb raised her bills in the air.
Pris froze for a second and then climbed down from the stool as Iggy’s sale was made final. “Don’t say a word, Drew, or I’ll tell you what the twins did for spring break this year.”
Their youngest siblings were in college and, by the sound of things, were spreading their wings.
Drew wisely kept quiet.
Next on the block was Charlie Taggert, who went for $150 to Nathan Nunes, which was no surprise. They’d been sweet on each other since high school.
Darcy couldn’t see Jason. But she could tell by the way Bitsy stiffened next to her who was coming up for sale next.
* * *
“Another first for us.” Mims looped her arm through Rupert’s and led him to center stage.
He was wearing a black suit with a black shirt and tie. He looked dangerously handsome and out of Bitsy’s league.
Her heart scaled her throat. She’d never bid on anyone before. She’d never wanted to.
But her pulse was pounding, sending her a message: Him, him, him.
She swigged the last of her rum and Diet Coke. Noah had gone light on the rum. She wasn’t getting what she wanted—a numbing of the persistent two-year twitch. They’d agreed to casually date. There’d been no discussion about her bidding on him at the bachelor auction.
“You’ve got this.” Darcy squeezed her hand.
“I shouldn’t have come.” Bitsy hated to be the center of attention. And what if she was outbid, as Pris had been?
“Nonsense.” Darcy smoothed the set of Bitsy’s blouse on her shoulders. “You have to bid. You and Rupert…You don’t make sense, which means you probably do make sense, if that makes sense.”
“You’re making no sense, Darcy,” Lola said over the crowd noise.
Him, him, him.
Bitsy shook her head. “I will not bid.”
“Rupert is a lawyer,” Mims read from a card. “He’s divorced with two kids in college.” She glanced up at him. “Did you write this? It makes you sound rather dull.”
Instead of answering, Rupert held his arms out. “But I’m a well-kept dull.”
The bidders clustering near the stage chuckled, but they were young. In their twenties mostly. What interest did those young ladies have in a middle-aged man who admitted he was dull? Rupert was about to get his ego checked.
Bitsy wrung her hands. Rupert was scanning the crowd. For her?
Darcy covered Bitsy’s hands with one of her own. “Don’t bid unless you feel up to it.”
“Who’ll give me one hundred dollars?” Mims wore her soldiering smile, the one that said she expected this to go south quickly but she’d do her best to salvage the situation.
“One hundred dollars.” The voice, small and feminine, came from a far corner of the stage.
The crowd around the bidder shifted and murmured.
“Who bid on him?” Bitsy craned her neck. Why was it okay for a younger woman to bid on an older man?
More importantly: Would Rupert be happy to have a date with a younger woman?
Bitsy ordered another drink. “Tell me when it’s over, Darcy.”
“Sold!” Mims said almost immediately. “One hundred dollars. Thank you very much.”
“Do you want me to find out who bought him?” Darcy stood on the bar stool’s rungs. “I can’t see.”
“No, please. No. I don’t want to look…” Desperate? Overly curious? Hurt? “Interested.” Or worse, heartbroken.
Shiitake mushrooms. The twitch just wouldn’t get the message that she was casually dating, not falling in love.
“Don’t look now, but Rupert’s coming over,” Lola announced.
Sure enough, Rupert was navigating his way through the crowd toward them with a pretty young thing behind him. She had bright-purple hair and good taste in clothes.
“Bitsy, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Shareen.” He hugged the woman who’d won him—his purple-haired daughter! “We’d like you to join us for dinner.”
Him. Him. Him.
“And this is Darcy, who’s related to us by marriage.” Rupert gave Darcy a warm smile.
Bitsy couldn’t have been happier if Duran Duran had been blaring from the speakers.
* * *
Jason stepped onstage.
He was wearing his good cowboy hat, the tan felt one that Darcy had given him one Christmas. He had on his black boots with the silver tips, the ones he’d bought when he’d won the world championship the first time. His shiny belt buckle made the biggest statement. It said, I’m here. I’m the boss.
His gaze sought out Darcy. She was at the bar with some of their friends but she was watching him. They’d never participated in one of the Widows Club charity auctions without buying each other. It was tradition. But tonight, he felt as if this was the year she’d break with tradition. Forever.
He swallowed thickly.
“Jason Petrie may need no introduction, but I’m going to give him one anyway.” Mims beckoned him to center stage. “World champion bull rider, not once but three times on the circuit. Businessman. Entrepreneur. And a homegrown special kind of wonderful.”
“Can I add something?” Jason took the microphone before she could protest. “I’m also not qualified to be up here this evening.”
The crowd of women shifted uneasily. A few phones came out as people held them up to s
nap photos or record his announcement.
Mims reached for the microphone, but Jason stepped in front of her, blocking the move. “This is supposed to be a bachelor auction. Well, I’m here to say that I’m not available because…I’m married.”
Several women in front wailed.
Jason turned to look at Mims. “Calm down.” And then his gaze found the woman he’d considered his wife for the past year. “I’m still up for bid, but I’d like the bidding limited to my wife. The woman who went through a commitment ceremony with me. The only woman I could ever love.”
The bar heaved a collective “Huh?” and turned about as folks tried to locate a woman who’d lay claim to him.
Calling Darcy out was a risk. If she didn’t come out of her shell and claim him, he didn’t know what he was going to do. Jason handed Mims the microphone.
“Bidding will start at one hundred dollars,” Mims said, but without wind in her sails.
Crickets.
Darcy had her arms crossed over her chest and was glaring at him. Around her, their friends were huddled, heads popping up and down as they stared first at Darcy and then at Jason.
“Let me tell you about my wife.” Jason had center stage and he was determined to use that spotlight wisely. “If my wife’s other husband was still around, I’d have words to say. He put too much on her shoulders without making sure she had someone strong at her back.”
You know I can hear you, George grumbled.
Still no bid from Darcy.
“But my woman never cracks under pressure. She tries to do right by everyone, even if it means she puts herself last.” The crowd quieted, practically leaning into Jason’s words. “That doesn’t mean she’s perfect. She’s made mistakes. Heck, so have I. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have regrets. But isn’t that what makes us each more interesting to one another?” Jason spared a glance at the people closest to the stage. “We go through life growing and changing and it’s rare that you find people who click when you’re five and when you’re twenty-five. Those people…Those friends…” His gaze found Iggy, who was sitting with Barbara. They exchanged a knowing smile. And then Jason found Darcy once more. “Those significant others…You have to stand by them, through thick and thin. You have to cherish them, through good times and bad. You have to love them, even when outside forces throw complications your way.”
No bid had been made. Not by Darcy or anyone. Mims looked worried.
“Are you sure your wife’s in the room?” someone asked.
“Way to leave a man hanging,” someone else said, giving rise to laughter.
Jason didn’t feel like laughing.
“One hundred dollars.” The masculine voice came from the stairs leading to the stage and belonged to—
“Ken?” Jason frowned. “We’re not married.”
“But I’m your agent, and I’m bidding on you.” Ken climbed to the top step. “In fact, if I’m the highest bidder, I want you to come with me to New York.”
Probably to see an orthopedic specialist. Jason frowned. He’d already decided his career as a bull rider was over.
“You’re on my stage,” Mims growled, signaling to Clarice, who stood behind Ken.
“And if my wife is the highest bidder?” Jason still held out hope that Darcy, in her quest to live a more honest life, would come forward and claim him.
“Shouldn’t she answer that question?” Ken turned toward the bar. “Mrs. Commitment Ceremony Petrie, are you going to bid or am I going to get this man at a bargain-basement price?”
More heads turned in the direction of the bar. This time they were rewarded.
“One hundred dollars and one cent,” Darcy called crisply, color high in her cheeks.
Jason’s leg twinged hard enough to make him stumble. Later, he’d swear up and down it was the joy of Darcy claiming him outright that nearly swept his feet out from under him.
“It’s Darcy.” The statement rippled through the crowd, along with “It’s the judge.”
Darcy held her head high.
“I know you can do better than that,” Ken challenged into the microphone. He’d wrested it from Mims, who was subtly trying to grab it back. “This auction is for charity. Two hundred dollars.”
“You’re on my stage,” Mims repeated, her words projecting through the speakers.
A few people caught on and chuckled.
At the bar, Priscilla Taylor drew Darcy into the huddle. Jason realized the error of his ways. He should have made sure Darcy had enough cash to outbid anyone, but especially his deep-pocketed agent.
“Two fifty,” someone in the audience shouted. It didn’t sound like Darcy.
“Three hundred,” Ken said automatically. “I could do this all day.”
“Stop.” Jason grabbed Ken’s shoulder. “Stop now.”
“Four hundred.” Ken didn’t back down. He lowered the microphone and said, “This is how you create buzz.”
“And ruin my chance to get the girl.” Jason barely contained the urge to pop his agent in the nose.
“Five hundred dollars,” Darcy shouted. She climbed on top of the bar. “Five hundred dollars to charity and to keep the man I love by my side.”
Jason threw his hands up in the air and whooped.
Mims grabbed the microphone from Ken. “Sold to Darcy Jones Harper…Petrie? And look who’s up for auction next. Ken Tadashi, New York sports agent and occasional wearer of knitted vests.”
“What?” Ken whirled on the Widows Club president. “I’m not up for bid.”
“Young man”—Mims took Ken by the arm—“did you not listen to the rules? If you come up on stage, your bid is void, and you are, in effect, volunteering to be put up for auction. Now, ladies and gentlemen, Ken is a looker and a talker. He needs someone smarter than a fifth grader and stubborn as a mule. Where’s my first bid?”
Jason didn’t wait to hear more. He hurried down the stairs and made his way to Darcy’s side.
Finally, George said. Now I can focus on my unfinished business with Pearl.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Darcy pushed her way through the crowd to Jason and would have thrown her arms around him, except he tripped at her feet.
Or…he’d gone down on one knee?
Darcy gasped. “Jason, are you all right?”
Around her, bids were flying for Ken. She thought she heard Avery’s voice down in the front row.
But in front of her…
“Honey, I’m okay. That wasn’t a twinge.” He flashed her a dimple-filled smile. “I hope you’re serious about taking me back, because I want to make things legal.”
“Is that a scrape on your cheek?” Had he been bull riding again?
He nodded. “I’m not retired from bull handling.” He tugged a blue velvet box from his back pocket and opened it to reveal a sparkler that suited her more than George’s ring ever had. He took her hand and slid the princess-cut diamond on her finger. “I know you’re serious about being judge, but if you’re elected to office, we can start having kids, right?”
Darcy laughed. “What happened to no conditions?”
“Three hundred!” That sounded like Pris, if only because Drew shouted, “Pris, no!”
“These are plans, not conditions.” Jason grinned at Darcy, flashing those dimples. “I love you, honey. We should have done this a long time ago.”
“I couldn’t.” She shook her head. “Not because of your career and not because I’m a Jones and no one in town respects my family, but because I didn’t respect myself. I needed to resolve my past here.” She tapped a place over her heart. “Inside. Even though people were telling me the opinions of others didn’t matter, it took me spreading my wings and gaining confidence in myself to believe the opinion that matters most is my own.”
“Is that a yes?” Jason’s eyes sparkled, and his dimples flashed.
Someone nearly tripped over him.
Darcy drew him to his feet. “You thought proposing to me in a crowd at
Shaw’s was more romantic than proposing to me when you were rip-roaring drunk?”
“I’m proposing right now because I can’t wait to start our life together with babies of our own besides Stogey.” Brow wrinkling, he glanced around the floor. “Where is Stogey?”
“Pearl agreed to babysit tonight. She says George always wanted her to be a dog person.” Darcy missed Stogey like nobody’s business. But he might have been trampled in the crowd and she wouldn’t have missed Jason’s performance for the world.
He wrapped his arms around her. “Say you’ll be mine, honey. Say you’ll marry me again, and this time we’ll do it up right. I know you’ve always dreamed of a traditional church wedding with a fancy dress and flowers.”
“Not a quickie Vegas ceremony with a red dress and Louboutins?”
He ignored her. “I’ve had my eye on some property out by the river. We can establish a herd of our own and maybe I can start a school for young bucks who think they’ve got what it takes to ride a bull. I think I have something to give back to the bull riding community, more than words of encouragement.”
“You don’t mind if we stay here in Sunshine?” Darcy slid her arms around his neck. “I know we always talked about leaving but I think you’re right. I might just have a chance at winning the seat when it comes open in November. With you by my side, I think I can make a difference, the way I wanted to.”
“The way George wanted you to.” He kissed her then as the crowd roared over Ken’s sale to Avery.
Later, when they’d been given a booth for their date and the well-wishers had stopped coming by, Darcy couldn’t resist asking Jason, “Is George still in your head?”
“No. I think he…I think he moved on to Pearl.” Jason’s fingers tangled with hers. “The Date Night Auction was all his idea. He knew you always bid on me. But you know what? It doesn’t matter whose idea it was. The Widows Club is going to take all the credit, same as always.”
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