I pluck a glass of white wine off a passing tray and start to run my hand down the dress until I realize my palms are sweaty. Ugh. This is not good. But I’m nervous as hell. Worse than going in for the interview with Gavin. My belly’s a full-blown swarm of locusts, gnawing at my courage.
He’s going to laugh at you. He’s going to pick somebody else. Somebody more like…that woman over there covered in diamonds.
Shut up, I tell my negative self. Who cares if she has more diamonds than Africa? She probably can’t do matrix algebra or speak Klingon or be happy watching Buffy while sharing a bowl of popcorn. Besides, didn’t Nate say I make Court happy because I shoot rainbows or whatever? I do
n’t know exactly what that means, but I’m sure it’s positive. Guys don’t talk about stuff like that unless they’re at least seventy-five percent serious about the girl. Do they?
Soon an MC goes up on the stage, and people start sitting down. I take a seat in a corner and take a deep breath as the MC talks about the great cause they’re trying to fund with the auction. She also speaks of the surprise substitute bachelor, who’s not on the program but is bound to make everyone’s heart flutter. Harcourt Blackwood is not only the most endearing, but one of the hottest and most eligible bachelors in the country. “Surely, all the ladies can agree on that,” she says with a titter, “and give him the proper welcome and love he deserves.”
Ugh. Acid bathes my belly, and the locusts inside grow more vicious. I put a hand over it, and I swear I can feel the flutter against my palm.
Sweat beads along my hairline. I’m barely paying attention to the MC or the men she brings to the stage. My focus is three hundred percent on the bidding. Holy shit. Most women open with a thousand at least. For some of the more sought-after men, they bid like crazy. I think some of it is ego-driven because they don’t want to lose.
I don’t even know how much I’m supposed to bid to win Court. He’s the most perfect man. But is money enough to show him I’m in love with him?
Probably not after you walked out on him.
Finally he’s on the stage. I gaze at his gorgeous face. For a guy who went clubbing and drinking until he passed out the night before, he looks amazingly good. If it weren’t for the slightly bloodshot eyes, nobody would suspect anything.
But there’s something grim about him. I’d like to think it’s because he misses me, but maybe he’s just missing a bed and some aspirin. Or maybe he doesn’t like the long, breathless introduction the MC is practically crooning into the mic.
Finally, she says, “Now, ladies, show him some love!”
“Five thousand,” somebody calls out in front of me. Oh my God. It’s the diamond woman. My instinct was right!
“Five thousand one hundred,” another says.
“Six,” the diamond woman counters.
Damn it. I need to stop this madness before it escalates any further. Nobody’s going to get him except me, because I’m the only woman in this room who loves him for all that he is.
“Fifty!” I say.
Gasps go up. Court swivels his head in my direction, his eyes wide. A smile slowly brightens his face like a sunrise.
Relief floods me until I’m feeling shaky and lightheaded. Good thing I’m seated, or I might land on my ass.
“Oh my goodness. Fifty thousand!” The MC starts fanning herself.
What the hell? Then I remember everyone else was bidding in the thousands. Shit. Is that why he’s smiling—because I just committed fifty thousand bucks to the charitable cause?
She continues, “Can anybody—”
“No, I mean fifty dollars,” I correct her. “Just fifty. Five-oh.”
“Excuse me?” the MC says, taking a step forward. Lines form between her eyebrows, and she stares at me like I’m not speaking her language.
I turn away from her. Court’s smile’s still there, but his brow is furrowed.
“Fifty bucks. Plus my heart, if that’s still what you want.”
For one horrible, terrifying, interminable heartbeat, he says nothing. He merely stares.
Did I screw up? Am I too late?
Suddenly, the grin on his lips widens. “Sold!” he says.
I jump to my feet, my fists in the air, exhilaration shooting through me like a rocket. “Yes!”