Page 6 of Sweatpants & Sweet Tea

“Like a contraceptive lost and found?”

“Yep.”

He shrugged as he opened the cabinet and put them in the white tin box with red lettering.

When he turned back around, he asked, “You stressed about tonight?”

“Tonight?” I questioned.

“The auction.”

“Shit! Is that tonight?”

He nodded.

“I totally forgot about that.”

“Who do ya think’s gonna bid on you?”

I shrugged.

I had no idea. I wasn’t even sure exactly what they were bidding for. I was just doing what I was asked and trying to stay in the good graces of the city council. At the last small business association meeting, Mayor Baldwin asked if I would be willingto donate my time. I’d agreed before I found out that I’d have to wear a tux and put myself up for auction like a steer.

“If you need me to run the classes tomorrow, I can,” Weston offered as I pulled the barn door shut.

Once I did, I took off my hat and ran my hands through my hair as I turned toward him. “Thanks, but I don’t plan on it being a late…” My words trailed off as I lost my train of thought when I saw an angel.

Long, golden blonde hair shimmered in the sun and fell over her shoulders, framing a baby doll face. This angelic creature's flawless skin glowed, and even from this distance, I could clearly make out her perfect cherry-red lips and huge eyes. I couldn’t see what color they were, but they were round and framed with dark lashes.

She reminded me of the woman who had been in my dreams. Same hair. Same lips. Same face.

The ethereal being turned to pick up a box, and when she bent over, my chest constricted painfully. On full display, like a billboard in Times Square, was the most perfect heart-shaped ass I’d ever seen. Her worn denim highlighted every curve and hugged her body like a second skin. I lost the ability to speak, think, and, hell, even breathe.

She had the face of an angel, but a body built for sin.

As she stood back up, her long locks fanned out in the air, and I would swear it was a Pantene commercial come to life. If the Pantene commercial was rated NC-17 because what I was feeling was not in the PG or even R category.

“Don’t plan it on being what?” Weston prompted.

“Who’s that?” I asked, unable to tear my gaze away from the angelic, curvy goddess.

Beside me, Weston turned to follow my eyeline. “That must be Miss Rhonda’s niece, Daphne. She mentioned she was coming into town for the weekend ’cause you know, hergrandma is being honored at the gala tonight. She’s a producer, or director, or somethin’ and lives out in California.”

“California,” I repeated automatically.

She was only here for the weekend. That didn’t seem like nearly enough time. Hell, I wasn’t even sure the rest of my life would be enough time to get this celestial creature out of my system.

“Hey, that means she’ll be at the auction tonight.” Weston slapped his hand on my shoulder. “Maybeshe’llbid on you.”

If she did, I’d be the luckiest SOB that ever lived.

3

DAPHNE

The monotone,melodic hold music for the airline was making it even more difficult for me to stay awake. After finishing the masks, I’d put away all of the boxes in the barn loft. Now I was holed up in the attic—which was the only place I could get reception on my phone—trying to get ahold of someone to find out if they’d found my luggage.

As I stared out the tiny window, I had to admit that the scenery before me was the definition of bucolic. It looked like an oil painting come to life. There were green pastures as far as the eye could see dotted with cypress, walnut, and oak trees. My aunt’s red barn was off to one side, and the Hot Country Boy’s barn sat on the pasture opposite it.

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