Sealed with a Kiss--A Sunshine Valley novella

by Melinda Curtis

  It being Saturday, Kimmy had to watch her step in heels.

  “Look at all these women.” Priscilla grabbed on to Kimmy’s arm. “They’re lined up like it’s Black Friday and there’s a great deal on Michael Kors handbags.”

  Kimmy stopped walking and took count. Fifteen women. That was a lot for Sunshine. “This is a mistake.” But she couldn’t back out. She’d promised.

  “It’s no mistake.” Priscilla pointed toward the dance floor. “Look. Have you ever seen so many cowboys?”

  Kimmy hadn’t been looking at the men. But now she could see there were cleaned-up cowhands milling about the dance floor, as well as local men in all shapes, colors, and sizes. Paul Gregory was wearing a suit and elbowing his way to the front of the stage, holding what looked like a strawberry daiquiri.

  “The good news is I don’t see my brother.” Priscilla dragged Kimmy toward the line of bachelorettes up for auction. Her older brother was the sheriff, and when it came to fun, Drew was something of a wet blanket.

  “The bad news is he would’ve made a good wedding date.” Kimmy wouldn’t have had to worry about Drew drinking too much and making advances. Although he probably wouldn’t have been able to talk intelligently about food. Or more accurately, he might have dozed off while she did so.

  “You’re here!” shouted Clarice. She checked something off the list on her clipboard and took Kimmy’s other arm. “Right this way.” She gave Priscilla a frosty stare. “It’s against the rules for married women to participate.”

  “I guess I’ll be at the bar.” Priscilla grinned and headed toward the center of the room.

  “I wrote an introduction for you.” Clarice continued to use her outdoor voice. Who could blame her? The crowd noise was nearly deafening. “Do you want to read it?”

  Kimmy shook her head.

  Clarice made another check mark on her clipboard and hobbled off without her walking stick, her purple tie-dyed muumuu swaying with each step.

  Kimmy took her place behind Darcy Jones at the end of the line. If Darcy was up for auction, Jason Petrie was most likely in the audience. Since they were an item, Darcy’s purchase was a sure thing. Kimmy, being last, wasn’t such a sure thing. She wasn’t showing as much leg, as much cleavage, or as much makeup as most of the young women in line. By the time it was her turn, most of the rowdy cowboys would have lost their enthusiasm for the sport or already purchased their date.

  Confidence. She needed confidence.

  Lacking some, Kimmy started to sweat.

  Mims moved to center stage and turned on the microphone. For all Kimmy had made jokes about the Widows Club and events like this, Mims’s poise was calming. She wore a blue dress and white sandals and looked as comfortable as if she were wearing her fishing vest and blue jeans. “Thanks for showing up to the Date Night Auction to benefit the Sunshine Valley Boys & Girls Club. The bachelorettes for auction tonight—”

  The crowd erupted with applause, whistles, and hollers.

  Mims made a settle-down gesture with her hands. “Our ladies will be available for prescreening for the next few minutes on and around the stage.” Mims stared down at the crowd. “Gentlemen, as a reminder, bidding starts at one hundred dollars. This is a cash-only event. Any man who sets foot on the stage makes an immediate purchase. Winning bidders also pay for dinner and drinks afterward.”

  Paul Gregory sauntered along the line. He’d lost the straw for his daiquiri, the drinking of which had stained his upper lip, making him look as if he had a red mustache. He stopped by Kimmy and said, “You look pretty tonight without your apron.”

  “Thanks?” Kimmy murmured, not wanting to encourage him, but he was a good customer and a good exterminator. And she did so hate bugs.

  The cowboys who ambled by next checked out the women up for auction the way she imagined they checked out cattle for sale. Kimmy smiled, in case good teeth were important in their judgment.

  More residents came by. Dr. Janney, who did her annual exam. Jay Parker, a plumber who still wore his work coveralls. Darnell Tucker, a mechanic at the local garage. All customers at the deli.

  During a lull, Kimmy touched Darcy’s shoulder. “I feel awkward.” Like she was lined up in gym class to be put on a soccer team.

  “You’ll be fine,” Darcy reassured her. “Just remember it’s for a good cause, and these people are your friends. Except for some of the cowboys. In which case, just remember dinner only lasts an hour.” She turned to speak to the woman in front of her.

  “Right,” Kimmy said under her breath. “Good cause. Good friends. One hour.”

  Iggy King walked by. He paused when he saw her. “Hey, Kimmy. I’ve never seen you on sale before.”

  On sale? Panic set in. She grabbed his arm. “Iggy, I’ll give you free sandwiches for a week if you buy me.”

  Booker appeared at Iggy’s shoulder, looking handsome in a suit and tie. “You look great, Kim.”

  Ditto. But she couldn’t say it. He’d think she wanted him to buy her.

  “Thanks?” she said instead.

  Who was she kidding? She’d be thrilled if he did. Not that he would. He was more likely to bid on someone from his side of town. And even if he did, it wouldn’t solve her wedding-date dilemma.

  Kimmy tried to catch Iggy’s wandering eye.

  “I’ll think about it, Kimmy.” Iggy headed toward Priscilla and the bar. “Good luck.”

  Shoot. That sounded like Iggy had thought about it and made a negative decision.

  “Hey.” Booker leaned in close enough to be heard over the crowd. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m at the end of the line.” Kimmy’s heels were beginning to pinch her toes. “I think Iggy is my last resort.” Heaven help her.

  Booker frowned. “If it’s stressing you out, don’t do this.”

  Easy enough for him to say. “I have to. Wedding date, remember?” She straightened her spine. “Plus I promised.” An Easley always kept a promise.

  “It’s time to get this party started.” Mims’s voice raised the roof once more.

  A few minutes later, the bidding began.

  Mims was a skilled auctioneer. Paul bid often but lost every time. He ordered another daiquiri and continued to suck his drink down without a straw. His bright-red mustache deepened in color. Winning bidders escorted their dates to reserved tables. Iggy and Priscilla were yukking it up at the bar, which in hindsight was where Kimmy should have been.

  And every few minutes, Kimmy took a few steps closer to the stage. When Darcy’s name was about to be called, she turned to Kimmy and wished her luck. And then Darcy was walking out on stage. Sure enough, Jason was in the audience and bid on her. He outbid Paul, who must have been on his fourth daiquiri.

  “And now…” Mims smiled at Kimmy and gestured for her to join her on the stage. “Our last bachelorette of the evening, Kimmy Easley.”

  There were weak whoops and a round of applause, nothing like the enthusiasm for Mims’s opening remarks.

  Mims read Clarice’s introduction. “Kimmy is a Sunshine girl. She creates gourmet sandwiches at Emory’s Grocery. She likes long walks in the park, and in her spare time, she likes to garden.”

  Gah! She sounded boring.

  “A hundred bucks.” Paul swayed near Kimmy’s feet.

  Kimmy swallowed, seeking out Iggy in the crowd. He wasn’t even looking at her!

  “One twenty-five.” That came from a cowboy with a friendly smile.

  She hoped he loved long walks in the park and food, especially garlic.

  “One fifty.” That bid came from the back of the crowd. Kimmy couldn’t see where.

  “Two hundred,” Paul said wearily.

  Kimmy would’ve felt sorry for him if she weren’t his last chance for a date. The whole purpose of this exercise was to find a man who might be a good wedding date, someone who’d talk about food, not bugs.

  “Two and a quarter.” The cowboy was still smiling. He was wearing a straw hat and a blue chambray shirt that look
ed soft to the touch. He probably loved grilled steak.

  She made a mean T-bone.

  “Two seventy-five.” Whoever was bidding in the back must have been short or hidden behind several Stetsons beyond the stage lights. Kimmy still couldn’t see him.

  “Three fifty.” Paul set his drink on the stage, placed his palms on either side of it, and hung his head as if he might be sick.

  Mims and Kimmy exchanged a glance and backed up a step.

  “Four hundred dollars!” came the bid from the back.

  The crowd gasped. It was the highest bid of the night.

  The cowboy made a cutting gesture across his throat.

  Paul lifted his heavy head and tried to spot his rival. He wasn’t the only one looking. Everyone up front was turning around.

  “We have four hundred,” Mims said into the microphone. “Going once. Going twice. Sold!”

  The crowd was parting, cowboys moving out of the way as the lights came up.

  And then a man approached. A well-dressed man. A solid man.

  Booker.

  Buying Kimmy hadn’t netted Booker the response he wanted—Kimmy’s gratitude.

  Yes, there was relief in her eyes, but only temporarily.

  Added to that, Paul and the cowboy who’d bid against him were lingering nearby.

  “My hero,” Kimmy said to Booker when they were seated in a booth in the back with two glasses of champagne and a dinner order placed. Her gaze darted around Shaw’s, around his competition. “But let’s be clear. Although I appreciate the save, you need to circulate through the crowd and find me a wedding date. You promised.”

  Fat chance, honey.

  Bidding on Kimmy against other men had stepped on a nerve, one connected to a proprietary feeling for her. She might never see him romantically but for the next hour, she was going to be his.

  “Look, we’re here.” Booker raised his champagne glass. “Let’s toast. Here’s to old friends and new beginnings.”

  With a sigh, Kimmy clinked her glass against his. “Hear, hear.”

  “We should take this time to catch up.” Booker had a lot of explaining to do, and his hour alone with Kimmy had begun. “We didn’t get a chance to do that the other day. What’s new?”

  “What’s new?” Kimmy smirked. “I put myself out there in the Widows Club bachelorette auction.” She’d looked miserable up there, smiling on command. “And that’s about it for me. You?”

  “I want to increase Burger Shack profits and put Dante through school.” Booker was proud that he’d be able to do it. That is, if he could increase earnings at the original Burger Shack. And to do so, he needed Kimmy to sign a contract.

  Instead of regarding Booker with warmth and respect, Kimmy frowned. “Why do you want to give Dante a free ride when you never had one? From what I hear, Dante doesn’t even work at the Burger Shack anymore.”

  “He can’t work because he’s on the track team.” And before that he’d been on the basketball team. And in the fall, the football team. Although there was the matter of the skateboard that shed doubt on Dante’s school activities. Regardless, Booker had to stay on point. “Have I told you how hard it was to work and go to college?”

  They’d talked more in the four years he was in college than in the last four years.

  “Are you complaining? Seriously?” Kimmy sipped her champagne and stared at him over the rim of her glass. Her mouth tipped up at the corners. “From the way you talked, you loved every minute of it.”

  He had but Booker denied it anyway. “I ran an underground grill from my dorm room. I could have been kicked out at any time.”

  Kimmy crossed her arms over her chest. “Again, you loved every minute of it.”

  “I was exhausted and stressed 24/7.” It had been a continuous adrenaline rush. “It probably took ten years off my life. I don’t want it to take ten years from Dante’s. Or worse, make him sick again.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Is your mother here? I think I just heard her talking about Dante’s life expectancy.” Although Kimmy was fond of Dante, she’d never been fond of the way Booker always came last in the family. “Oh, no. It was you who was babying him.”

  “Here it comes.” Booker cupped a hand behind one ear. “The work lecture.”

  Paul passed by. He’d had too much to drink and was strutting like a peacock, all despondency over being dateless gone.

  Kimmy’s gaze chilled. “Hard work builds character, Booker. You know this.”

  “Is your father here?” Booker refilled their glasses. “Doesn’t he always say that?”

  “Touché.” Kimmy and her siblings had been told, not encouraged, to find jobs as soon as they were old enough to drive. “Would you take it back? All those years spent working with your family at the Shack? I wouldn’t.” She leaned forward as if what she had to say needed to be private, despite the fact that they had to talk loud enough to be heard over the bar’s music. “Don’t you love cooking? Wouldn’t you rather be in the kitchen than anywhere else? I know I would.”

  Before Booker could answer, Clarice showed up at their table. “Sorry to interrupt,” she shouted.

  Mims was right behind her, pointing to her ear and a bright-red clip-on earring. “She forgot her hearing aids.”

  “I didn’t forget.” Clarice bristled. “I don’t need them in here. Everybody is shouting.”

  Mims patted her friend’s shoulder. “We just wanted to ask Kimmy if she’d participate in our bake sale next week. It benefits the Little League.”

  Kimmy sat back, her expression turning wary. “Isn’t that competitive?”

  “No, no, no,” Mims reassured her. “I mean, Wendy Adams always sells out her Bundt cake first but it’s all for a good cause.”

  Booker was trying hard not to smile. Kimmy had given the Widows Club an inch, and they were trying to take their mile. She’d be a prime target for every fund-raiser they had from now on.

  “Oh, Booker.” Mims smiled down at him. At first glance, it was a benevolent smile. But upon closer inspection, it was a smile that meant business. “Did you ever find a wedding date?”

  “No.” It was Booker’s turn to fall back against the seat.

  “There’s Wendy now,” Clarice shouted. “She was late and just missed being up for auction.”

  Sure enough, Bitsy, another Widows Club board member, escorted Wendy toward their table as if Kimmy or Booker were in need of her.

  As if I want Wendy to be my wedding date.

  Booker’s shoulders cramped, sending a sharp twinge up his neck.

  “I have an idea,” Mims said, still smiling. “Why don’t you two team up for the bake sale?”

  “Booker and me…” Kimmy’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t bake. We grill.”

  Clarice frowned at Mims and shouted, “I think there’s a rule—”

  “There is no rule, Clarice,” Mims said at the same volume. The Widows Club president wasn’t good at hiding the high sign. She made wild eyes at Clarice and drew a make-believe zipper across her mouth. And then she turned to Kimmy with a big smile. “You could grill dessert.” She cleared her throat and turned to Booker. “Together.”

  “I was just talking to Iggy,” Clarice shouted at Kimmy. “He loves fried food.”

  Kimmy paled.

  Booker wanted to laugh. The Widows Club was trying to match Kimmy with Iggy. But it wasn’t a laughing matter. They were trying to play Cupid with him and Wendy and eating into his time alone with Kimmy. The auction had promised an intimate date but Booker wasn’t getting his money’s worth.

  Bitsy and Wendy paused at their table.

  Wendy, the shiest, most withdrawn girl from their high school class.

  Paul danced past, scooting through the crowd. He’d fastened his tie around his head like a sweatband, and he had his dress shirt open, revealing a stark white T-shirt.

  “Hi,” Wendy said to Booker in that meek voice of hers, one he had to strain to hear.

  He and Kimmy were better at sec
ret high signs than Mims and her widows. Booker pressed his lips together and stared at Kimmy, willing her to read his mind: Red alert. We’re being cornered.

  Paul danced back doing the “Look Alive” dance, drawing Kimmy’s attention away from Booker. “I’ll buy Wendy.” The town exterminator didn’t stop dancing. “Two hundred. In cash.”

  Everyone blinked.

  Paul planted his feet but his hips kept moving, as did his shoulders. And there was a side-to-side head bob. The cobra dance move. Despite being drunk, the man had moves. People around them were applauding his skill.

  Paul extended a hand toward Wendy. “Come on, girl. Are you ready for this?”

  The Wendy he remembered from high school would have shrunk back. That wasn’t this Wendy. She put her hand in Paul’s.

  “Sweet.” Paul skipped off, dragging her after him.

  The Widows Club huddled together. This was Booker’s chance. Not just to communicate without words to Kimmy but to confess what he’d done. Beg forgiveness. Offer money. And perhaps salvage their friendship.

  “Kimmy,” Booker said sharply, staring at her with mind-meld intensity.

  She stared back. And then understanding dawned in her eyes as she seemed to receive his message.

  “I’ve got this.” Kimmy tapped Mims on the shoulder. “Can you excuse us, ladies? Booker paid a lot for a date with me, and I’d like to give him his money’s worth.”

  Chapter Five

  It’s official. We’re being targeted for wedding dates,” Booker told Kimmy as soon as the Widows Club set off to rescue Wendy or collect their two hundred dollars. It wasn’t clear which.

  “Why are you panicking?” Kimmy sipped her champagne. “You never used to freak around the Widows Club.”

  “They brought me Wendy Adams.” He’d have preferred they brought him Kimmy. Instead, he’d had to buy her outright. Nothing was going right tonight. “They’ve never flaunted a date in front of me before.”