Best-case scenario, Bryan would find a woman who’d grown up in a military family like he had and understood the score. Even then, there would be sacrifices. Little League games, anniversaries, Christmases, birthdays—hell, births, even—would come and go. Even the strongest of couples struggled through reintegration to try to get back to “normal” when their spouse came home after a deployment.
Worst case? He’d end up destroying his own family the way the Colonel had destroyed theirs. And that, he wouldn’t do. He was staying single and nothing would sway him, not even Q.
He shook off the unsettling feeling that came every time he thought of his father and focused his attention back on his sister.
“I’m doing the stupid date, but believe me when I tell you, that’s that. Got it?” He pinned his gaze on her until she started to squirm and nodded.
“Fine! Fine, whatever,” she grumbled. She continued to complain under her breath as she put together the last touches on her outfit. By the end of her fussing, she'd arranged her intricate brown braids on top of her head until she looked like a Medusa impersonator.
After she'd finished tying her sandals, he held out his hand and hoisted her up.
“The first bid starts in ten. I've gotta do mic checks.” She flounced off but quickly turned on her heel and scurried back to him. When they were a few inches apart, she stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for coming tonight. Really,” she said, then, with a flip of the curtain, she was gone again, leaving him alone in the musty backstage area.
Two guys shuffled past him dressed the same as he was and gave him commiserating half smiles. Poor suckers had gotten flimflammed too. God help him. If he didn't love Q so much, he was sure he'd hate her guts for this. He went back behind the wardrobe to collect his discarded clothes and caught sight of himself in the mirror.
To say he looked ridiculous would have been the understatement of the century, not that any of the schmucks around him looked much better. With a disgusted sigh, he made his way to the wings, listening as his sister tested the mic with a series of off-key vocal exercises and jokes about check, cash, and credit. Same old Q.
He had to admit, though, she was good at her job. Once she completed sound check and went over her lines, she managed to wrangle all the bachelors together and get them in some semblance of order with little effort. She showed them where to stand and encouraged them to smile, flex, and “suck it in” if need be. Then she took some time to chat with each one individually, charming them until they were ready to line up like pigs to slaughter, which was oddly comforting. At least he wasn’t the only idiot in the room.
Soon, he could hear the murmur of the crowd through the curtain, and his fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. It was almost show time, and every passing second added another layer to his cake of regret. Before he could act on his impulse and tear ass out of the building, his sister called for them all to shush and swept out onto the stage like a princess.
“Ladies and…ladies! Have we got a treat for you tonight!”
There were catcalls and wolf whistles galore, to the point that he wondered if his sister had brought him to a charity auction or a women’s prison. He’d been led to believe that this was a nice bunch of do-gooders who expected a white rose, a plate of stuffed chicken, a glass of wine, and a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night.
These ladies sounded like they were out for blood—or other bodily fluids—and suddenly, he was contemplating flight again.
The ginger-haired guy in front of him must have been on the same page because he gave him a nervous grimace. “My mother’s making me do this,” he admitted. “I already have a girlfriend. Judy. Mother hates her.” He adjusted his leaves and eyed Bryan assessingly. “I don’t suppose you think Quinn would let me back out?”
Bryan bit back a laugh and offered him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, man. Not a chance.”
“I hear you, it’s cool.”
Judging by the cooked lobster shade of his skin and the sweat that had broken out over his brow, it was not at all cool, but Bryan had his own issues to worry about. The show was in full swing now. Guys shuffled past him, one after the other, each halfheartedly shielding their meat and potatoes as best they could, the energy growing more and more frenetic with every new victim who stepped on the stage.
Jesus, had Q been so good at her job that she’d whipped these bridge-club-goers into some sort of frenzy? If he got saddled with some handsy bingo maven, he was going to officially murder his sister.
After the first handful of nervous bachelors had gone, the one guy who seemed way too comfortable in his foliage strutted out, cock-first, to the tune of “Thrift Shop.” Hoots and hollers sounded from the crowd, and Bryan sneaked a quick look from behind the community college curtains to get a look at the crowd while they were distracted.
It was a packed house, with the audience full of women sitting shoulder to shoulder at faux ritzy tables draped in white linens with glittery apple centerpieces. Q hadn’t lied about one thing. Most of the benefactors were middle-aged, but there was one table full of twenty-somethings who seemed to be the cause of at least half the commotion. Each of them held snake-shaped bidding paddles with numbers emblazoned on them, and they were in a bidding war.
A shrill scream sounded, and his eyes narrowed. Heart thrumming against his ribs, he searched the dim room for the source of that all-too-familiar screech. There was no way…
But there was a way, because seated in the center of the auditorium was Piper Joyce.
Of all the activities in all of Salem, why in the hell did his crazy-ass ex have to show up here? His sister wasn’t responsible for this part of the evening, that much was for sure. She hated Piper and wouldn’t be at all happy to see her there.
But Q’s job was to make the hospital as much money as possible tonight, and if Piper decided to bid on him…
Before he had time to process his next course of action, a new song started pumping through the speakers. A song his sister always used to blast in her room on an endless loop when they were growing up. It was the soundtrack of his nightmares.
“Thong Song.”
Still behind the curtain, he closed his eyes and weighed his options. He could probably get away with leaving now. Q would understand if he explained afterward. She might even forgive him. Eventually. The hospital charity, though, might not be so forgiving and neither might her boss…
Fu-uck.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen. The moment you've all been waiting for!” His sister's voice boomed through the speakers, and he opened his eyes, focusing on her willowy figure behind the lectern. “Some of you may know him as Salem High's former star quarterback. Some of you know him as the man of your dreams.” She tossed a wink over her shoulder at him, and he glared at her, making a silent vow that every word would cost her more alone time with their mother around the holidays.
“He's here tonight to offer you a limo ride to a sexy—”
Sexy? He blanched.
“…romantic, five-course meal. And maybe his heart.”
Yeah, she was going to pay for this.
“May I present to you our hometown hero, an officer and a gentleman, unless you don’t want him to be, the one, the only, Dr. Bryan Metcalf!”
She waved him onto the stage with an exaggerated flourish.
Now or never.
With a deep breath, he strode out, trying hard to pretend he was in his scrubs and not in this ridiculous getup. Marching down the makeshift catwalk, he caught sight of his yearlong mistake and prayed to all things great and good that she was there by way of coincidence. He was a last-minute stand-in, so there was no way she could’ve known he’d be there. Surely she’d moved on by now anyway and wouldn’t want to—
“Five hundred dollars!”
The grating soprano of his former girlfriend split the air as her paddle darted upward. She sat on the edge of her seat, bright-eyed and shaking like a Chihuahua in need of a walk.
&
nbsp; “Uh, yeah. Good. Great start,” Quinn said, shooting him a panicked glance. “Who will give me five-fifty?” she called, a note of desperation in her voice.
She was clearly as shocked as he was by Piper’s presence, which made him feel a little better.
Not much, though. He made his way across the stage a second time and, mercifully, another paddle shot up. He sent a grateful smile toward the bidder until he realized who it was. Grace Love, owner of one of the numerous dating companies Quinn had harangued him into joining, sat at the table across from his ex, her gaze fixed intently on him.
Perfect.
There was no way to know which was the lesser of the two evils. Piper was basically a gold medalist in stalking, but Grace was making strides toward surpassing his ex's record. In the weeks since he'd been home, she'd contacted him half a dozen times, begging him to endorse her company. It was weird, and not a little unsettling. No doubt if she won the auction he'd be forced to sit through five courses listening to why it was best for everyone that he “be the face of Love Will Find a Way matchmaking services.”
There wasn’t much time to think on it too hard, because the bids were flying like bullets across the room, with each woman whipping out her paddle before the other had finished speaking. All the while, he could spot Piper whispering something out the side of her mouth. Knowing Piper, it could’ve been anything. Voodoo curses at her competitor. Wiccan love spells. Crazed threats. There was no telling which, but he was damned sure that she wasn't above any of it.
And the bids kept climbing. Two women, locked in a battle that he was sure to lose. Eighteen hundred. Nineteen hundred, with no sign of either of them slowing down. He’d stopped working the catwalk and stood stock-still, just wanting it to be over so he could mentally prepare for whatever fresh hell awaited him, when a statuesque platinum blonde he’d been too traumatized to notice sitting beside Grace snatched the paddle from her.
She mumbled something he couldn't hear, first to her companion and then to Piper. With a sinking heart, he thought for a moment that she had taken Grace's paddle from her altogether to stop her from spending too much money, but on Piper's next bid, the blonde countered her with a cool confidence. Then, she turned to face the stage and met his gaze head on.
She was impossibly gorgeous, with blue eyes so bright he could see them from twenty yards away, and he found himself wishing for a bigger fig leaf.
Okay, so maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total bust after all
Check out the rest of Dirty Deal, here!
Other Books by Christine Bell
Trust Me: Matty and Kayla, Book #1
Fix You: Bash and Olivia, Book #1
Fix You: Bash and Olivia, Book #2
Fix You: Bash and Olivia, Book #3
Down on her Knees (book #4 in the Dare Me series)
Down the Aisle (book #3 in the Dare Me series)
Down and Dirty (book #2 in the Dare Me series)
Down for the Count (book #1 in the Dare Me series)
Dirty Deal (Book #2 in the Perfectly Matched series)
Dirty Trick (book #1 in the Perfectly Matched series)
Guardian for Hire (book #2 in the For Hire series)
Wife for Hire (book #1 in the For Hire series)
White Lie Christmas (with author Riley Murphy)
The Twisted Tale of Stormy Gale
YA Books by Christine Bell writing as Christine O’Neil
Chaos
Bio
Christine Bell is the USA Bestselling Author of Adult and New Adult contemporary romance novels. She and her handsome hubby currently reside in Pennsylvania with a four-pack of teenage boys and their two dogs, Gimli and Pug. If she gets time off from her duties as maid, chef, chauffeur, or therapist, she can be found reading just about anything she can get her hands on, from Young Adult novels to books on poker theory. She doesn’t like root beer, clowns or bugs (except ladybugs, on account of their cute outfits), but lurrves chocolate, going to the movies, the New York Giants and playing Texas Hold 'Em.
Writing is her passion, but if she had to pick another occupation, she would be a pirate...or, like, a ninja maybe. She loves writing romance, but also hopes to one day publish something her dad can read without wanting to dig his eyes out with rusty spoons.
Christine loves to hear from readers, so please feel free to get in touch with her via her website contact page, her mailing list, on her Facebook page, or on Twitter@_ChristineBell
Copyrights
Trust Me, Matty and Kayla Book Two, All Rights Reserved
Trust Me, Matty and Kayla, Book Two, Copyright © 2014 Christine Bell
Published by Christine Bell
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from author.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. The author does acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The author does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for third-party Web sites or their content.
All rights reserved worldwide. This book is licensed for your personal use only. No part of this work may be sold, manipulated, or reproduced in any format without express written permission from the authors, except for brief quotations embodied in or reviews.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
The End
Copyrights
Trust Me: Matty and Kayla, Book 2 of 3 (McDaniels Brothers 6) Page 8