The lights flashed and went down and the music stopped. A microphone clicked on and when the lights flicked back up, Sage Cooper-Clements came out on stage. She was wearing a bright red sweater dress and beamed at everyone. “Thank you so much for coming out to support the Painted Barrel Animal Helpers Committee. This committee was founded in order to provide our town with a place for stray animals to stay in safety. As you all know, since we’re on the small side”—she paused for the inevitable chuckles—“we don’t have very many municipal buildings. Our library is in the water department, as is city hall and my office and . . . well, pretty much every city job imaginable.” She grinned, dimpling. “But if we raise enough money today, we’re going to add on to the municipal building and make a place for our furry friends. To show you just who we’re building this addition for, each of our bachelors is going to come out with a dog that is currently being housed with volunteers until we can find him or her the perfect forever home. So you can not only bid on a bachelor today, but you can bid on a dog, too.”
Polite applause filled the room.
“But I don’t want to stand up here and talk to you all day. We’re here for the men, right?”
More polite applause.
Oh god, Layla was secondhand embarrassed for poor Sage, having to try to pep up this mostly empty room. Seriously, why were there so many tables? Painted Barrel wasn’t a huge town, and if half of it had shown up, Layla wasn’t sure if the gym would be full then. This seemed like a lot for just eleven bachelors to be auctioned.
As if she could read Layla’s mind, Amy leaned over, a worried look on her face. “We were supposed to team up with another town to do this but they fell through on us.” She bit her lip. “I can’t believe it’s been so hard to pull a charity together.”
“I know, you’d think people would want the tax deductions, am I right?” Layla joked.
Amy batted at her arm. “Very funny.”
Well, to Layla it was.
“We’ll start the bidding at five dollars for each guy,” Sage said. “And we’ll go in increments of fives until there’s a winner. You’re bidding on each gentleman and his particular skill set. The person that wins their bachelor will coordinate with him for the ‘date’ of their choosing. Good luck to all the ladies out there.” The music started again and Sage exited off the stage and went to a podium just at the edge. “We’ll start with bachelor number one . . . Garvis Newsome!”
The music from Magic Mike started playing—“Pony” by Ginuwine.
Layla groaned and picked up her crochet again. “I am sweating, Amy. This is so mortifying for these men.”
Garvis strutted out onto the stage. He had the skinny, bowed legs of a man that had spent most of his life in the saddle, and a weathered face with a white handlebar mustache that Layla had only seen in memes. She knew a lot of people in Painted Barrel, but Garvis was not one of them. He tipped his cowboy hat back and then started to do a little dance. She wasn’t sure if it was the Cabbage Patch or a dab, but it was making her incredibly uncomfortable. As he strutted forward in his red-and-black-plaid shirt and leather vest, he carried the leash of a very confused copper dachshund. The wiener dog gamely trotted after the cowboy, and sat the moment they hit the middle of the stage and scratched at his ear.
“Garvis is a much-in-demand farrier,” Sage called out in a chirpy voice. “Do your horses need a little TLC? Do you need a little TLC yourself? Then take a good look at Garvis! He’s our first bachelor for the day. Let’s start the bidding, shall we?”
“One dollar!” Cora called out in a reedy voice.
There was a ripple of laughter. Sage smiled, and then leaned into her microphone. “The bids start at five dollars, everyone.”
“Two dollars!” Cora yelled.
Layla leaned over to Amy. “I am totally nervous-sweating right now.”
“Oh god, I am, too,” Amy whispered back. She clutched at Layla’s hand, making it impossible for Layla to do more crochet. Not that she could, anyhow—her hands were so clammy from secondhand embarrassment that the yarn was losing all tension. She set it down on the table for now and let Amy squeeze her hand in support.
“Five dollars,” someone called out.
Garvis clapped his hands with delight, startling the dog at his side. It barked at him, and the crowd laughed once more.
Amy buried her face in her hands.
“Surely someone can bid more than five dollars?” Sage asked, a worried smile on her face as she gazed out at the crowd.
“Two dollars,” Cora called again. No one laughed this time.
Oh god. Here was where Layla took one for the team. She squeezed Amy’s hand and then raised her free one into the air. “Two hundred dollars,” Layla called.
The room erupted with noise. Layla thought Sage was going to come over the podium and kiss her with gratitude.
“All right,” the mayor called happily. “We have a bid for two hundred dollars! Sounds like someone needs a big, handsome farrier to come over for an afternoon!”
Onstage, Garvis flexed.
“Two hundred fifty,” called another voice, and Layla breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t even sure what a farrier was, but if it had something to do with horses, he was out of luck. Layla had a house cat and that was it.
Luckily, the bidding started to rise in earnest, and there was a lot of laughter and good spirits as the money slowly escalated. When it hit seven hundred fifty, the bidding came to a standstill, and an elderly woman jumped up with glee when she was announced the winner. The people at her table cheered, and even Garvis looked thrilled. Layla remembered that Amy had mentioned something about most of the bachelors being “bought” by their girlfriends anyhow. Even so, it looked like everyone was having fun. Garvis bounded off the stage and handed off the wiener dog’s leash, exchanging it for a bouquet of bright red roses, which he presented to his new date.
That was a little disappointing. Layla had kinda been rooting for the wiener dog. He looked so small and confused up on the stage next to the cavorting cowboy.
“Okay,” Amy breathed. “Seven hundred fifty isn’t bad. That’s not bad at all. If they all go for that much, we just might hit our goal.”
Layla leaned over, the accountant in her taking over. “Actually, you’d still be seventeen hundred and fifty dollars short—uh, never mind.” She bit off her own words at Amy’s frustrated glare. Boy, nobody had a sense of humor when it came to this auction.
At the other side of the table, poor Cora looked depressed and Layla felt so bad for her. Maybe she hadn’t heard the rules and that was why she’d bid so low. Layla reached out and touched the other woman’s arm. “Don’t you worry, Miss Cora. We’ll get you a bachelor today, I promise.”
Cora giggled. “I was bidding on the dog.”
A woman after Layla’s own heart.
* * *
* * *
The auction rolled a little more smoothly after that. The next few bachelors all sold for several hundred dollars each, though not as much as Garvis. Each man came out with a cute dog, strolled around the stage while Sage extolled their virtues, and then the auction would begin in earnest. Cora bid a dollar each time, and Layla wasn’t sure if Cora was just the world’s oldest troll and having fun at their expense, or if she genuinely thought her dollar bid was legit.
Layla bid two more times herself, when no one was quick to bid right out of the gates. The first time, it was for Mr. Johnson, who she always ran into at the grocery store. And then she bid for old Mr. Hill, who mowed lawns, because he got peed on by the puppy he was holding, and because, well, Layla’s lawn could use a little work. And it was all for charity anyhow.
She figured if she was having to buy her love, she might as well get some weeding out of it. But she was quickly outbid on him, and really, that was fine.
Cora turned and looked at Layla with a pit
iful expression. “You and I aren’t having much luck today, are we?”
“It’s okay,” Layla told her reassuringly. “We’re bound to get lucky at some point. Did you have your eye on someone in particular?”
“Well,” Cora thought, and sighed. “I still keep thinking about the fat wiener from before.”
Layla blinked.
“The dog,” Amy whispered behind her hand, trying to hold her smile.
Oh riiight. The wording was just too perfect. Layla bit back a snicker and cleared her throat. “You know, Miss Cora, we can check in after the auction and see if the dog is available to adopt. That’s supposed to be the point of this whole thing—to find homes for stray animals that need some love.”
Cora brightened. “Do you think so, dear? I’ve been saving all month and I’d love a companion.” She fingered her two wrinkled dollars that she kept bidding over and over again.
Layla’s heart broke a little. Was that all that Cora had as her savings or was this just more of her confusion? Or her trolling? Either way, she vowed that she would make sure that Cora had a dog in her arms by the time she left, even if Layla had to pay for it. She glanced over at Amy, but Amy was chewing on her lip, writing numbers down on a napkin and desperately trying to do the math as the next bachelor came out onstage. Layla had done the numbers in her head, and they were still close to three thousand dollars short of the goal. That had to be disappointing for her friends, who’d worked so hard to pull this together. There were still two bachelors left, with the second to last being bid on right now. He had a pit bull puppy in his arms and his girlfriend was bidding on him . . . but it wouldn’t be enough money. Even if Layla bought the last bachelor due to lack of bids (which didn’t look as if it’d be the case given how the other auctions had gone), it wouldn’t be enough. Maybe Layla could do some research, look up some tax incentives for the city that might make up the difference—
Amy grabbed her arm as the bidding continued. “Don’t look now,” she hissed. “But your mother is here.”
Every bit of Layla went cold. Janet Schmidt was here? At the auction? This day was going from bad to much, much worse. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“She’s near the door. Looking for you.” Amy patted her arm. “I’d tell you to hide in the bathroom but we both know she’d probably find you.”
She would. Janet had been known to peek under stall doors looking for Layla in the past. “She thinks I’m here to bid on a boyfriend,” Layla whispered as her mother caught sight of her and waved.
“Lucky for you Jack is up next,” Amy said, patting her hand.
Oh lord. And all the “bachelors” so far were more Janet’s age than Layla’s. Her mother would sense a plot for sure, and then she’d get bombarded with all kinds of nagging and guilt and her weekend would be ruined. Layla glanced over and Janet raised a hand, waving.
“Are you bidding, ma’am?” Sage asked from the podium.
“I’m just here to see my daughter. She’s going to bid on a man,” Janet called out loudly, trotting over to Layla’s table in ridiculously high heels.
Cringe. Cringe twice. Layla kept smiling even though the urge to flee was running rampant through her system. Why did Janet always do this to her? Janet was the mom that showed up in the low-cut bandage dress at Layla’s school dances. She was the mom that flirted with the teachers. The mom that always made sure the attention was on Janet and not Layla.
Of course she’d show up to a bachelor auction to try and nose in and see what her daughter was up to. Part of it was Janet being an overbearing mom. Part of it was Janet being bored. And part of it was Janet wanting a slice of the action. Her mom would absolutely not be above flirting with a guy that Layla was interested in. She’d done it in the past. Was it shitty? Yes. Was it something Layla expected at this point? Also yes.
So she shouldn’t have been surprised to see her mother. Yet somehow, Layla always was. She always expected Janet to be a bit more . . . mom-like. Never happened.
“There you are,” Janet cooed. She thumped into the empty chair next to Layla and set her Chanel bag on the table, blocking Layla’s view of Cora entirely. “How goes the bachelor hunting, Layla-belle?”
“It’s just fine, Mom. What are you doing here?” God, even her tone sounded sulky and petulant, like she was fourteen again.
Janet licked her thumb and tsked, reaching forward and smoothing a flyaway hair at Layla’s temples. “Honey, did you even fix your hair this morning? I thought you were trying to get a man.”
“It’s fine, Mom.”
“Is it?” Janet gave her a wintry little smile that said she didn’t agree. She glanced over at Amy and cooed at her. “Hello, sweetheart. Are you bidding on a man, too?”
Amy just chuckled. “No, my boyfriend’s working today.”
“Look at that,” Janet said in a low voice, leaning in toward Layla. “She’s got a boyfriend and her hair looks fantastic. What a coincidence?”
“Ugh, Mom. Please. Just stop it.”
Janet raised a be-ringed hand in the air. “I’m just saying, Layla-belle. You know I just want you to be happy.”
“Do we have any more bids?” Sage called. When no one else answered, she banged her gavel on the podium. “Sold, for five hundred thirty dollars. Congratulations, you two!”
Everyone at the table clapped politely. Layla noticed that Amy added that to the math on her napkin, but it wasn’t enough. Unless the final bachelor pulled in twenty-five hundred dollars, it wouldn’t be what the city needed to make the project a success. And no one had gone for more than seven hundred fifty that day.
Janet leaned over to Layla, still clapping. “That last one was a bit gray. Are they all older?” She gave her daughter an interested look. “Should I find myself a sugar daddy? Are any of them rich?”
“Mom,” Layla groaned.
Amy just laughed. “I don’t think any of them are exactly wealthy, Mrs. Schmidt. Everyone’s bidding on the total package—the dogs, the skills the bachelor can provide, and for charity.”
“Well, that’s disappointing,” Janet said brightly, then leaned over to her daughter. “Besides, I already have a sugar daddy.”
Layla groaned again and buried her face in her hands.
“Oh, stop being such a baby,” Janet said. “I’m allowed to have needs.”
“It doesn’t mean I want to hear about them.”
“Well, who else am I going to tell?” She sat on the edge of her chair, peering at the stage. “So where is your man? Which one is he?”
Amy shot Layla a curious look.
Right. She’d told her mother she was going to be bidding on a guy she liked here. Looked like she was going to have to bid on Jack Watson either way. With luck, someone would outbid her quickly and she could feign disappointment and then this whole sordid mess would be over. She’d take out her feelings on some pastries and an evening of cross-stitching pithy sayings about narcissists and feel better by morning. “He’s coming up soon.”
“Well, while we’re waiting, I brought you something.” Janet tossed her bright red hair and reached into her purse. She pulled out a folder of papers and slid it toward Layla, then offered her a pen. “You said you’d notarize these for me, right? I thought I’d bring them over.”
“I didn’t say I’d notarize anything, Mom.” Janet was a master at the art of pushiness. She pretended like you’d already agreed to something, hoping you’d forget and cave. “What is this?”
“Just those documents that we talked about. For the property.”
Layla flipped open the folder. There were maps, weather charts, and discussions about flooding. Pictures of the land. A long, detailed letter explaining that to the party’s best knowledge, no flooding had occurred since ownership had transferred to Janet Schmidt’s hands. Well, that was a flat-out lie. Rather than create a scene, Layla closed the folde
r again. “I’ll look at it later.”
“Just do it fast,” Janet said brightly. “I want to get that property on the market quick. If I sell by summer, I’m going to take a European cruise.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but the microphone whined with feedback, gathering everyone’s attention. A dog howled somewhere offstage.
“Sorry about that,” Sage chirped into the mic. “Are we ready for our final bachelor? He’s a good one!”
Amy grabbed Layla’s arm in silent terror.
Right. This was the moment she’d promised she’d bid if no one else did. Janet grabbed Layla’s other arm, no doubt thrilled to get a good look at her daughter’s “man.” Layla felt a little like she was trapped between two opposing forces.
The music started and the lights flickered. This time, the song was “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone” and a tall man strolled onto the stage with the same dachshund from before.
“One dollar!” Cora bellowed.
“Oh my,” Janet murmured as Jack Watson swaggered onto the stage. Layla didn’t say anything. Her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth.
Because Jack Watson was an utterly gorgeous dream of a man. It had been months since she’d seen him, and so Layla had forgotten just how intimidatingly perfect he was. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and seemed to take up half the stage with his sheer presence. His cowboy hat and clothing were entirely black, giving him a sinister, sexy vibe. He had the wiener dog tucked under his arm like a football, and scratched at the floppy copper ears with a big, work-hardened hand.
He’d shaved, too. Layla had remembered a scruffy beard—so incongruous with a man as gorgeous as him—but it was gone now. Instead, she could see his chiseled jaw, the full lips, the perfect nose that led up to thick, equally perfect brows, and gorgeous dark eyes. He grinned out into the crowd, and his teeth were as perfect as the rest of him.
“I’ll bid on his package,” Janet murmured, fanning herself.
“Mr. Watson is a ranch hand at the Swinging C,” the mayor called out, as if reading a bio. “He’s a Virgo and a bit of a romantic. Want to ride horseback into the mountains for your date? This is your man. He’s also good at helping repair fences and working in the barn if that’s more your thing. Bid on him and you can discover what you’ve been missing in your life without a big, strong cowboy.”
Her Christmas Cowboy Page 26