Page 14 of Attraction & Repulsion

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Get Active! Youth Sports Club Charity Auction,” he boomed in a baritone voice. “Thank you for joining us this Saturday evening.”

Carson adjusted in her seat to get comfortable. Except she couldn’t, because the tape from one of the bandages was tugging on the delicate skin on her stomach. She scooted forward a couple of inches and leaned back to allow the adhesive to lay flat. Much better.

The presentation was a little boring for her taste. But what fundraising event wasn’t? As expected, recognition was given to people who boasted about the so-called good deeds they were doing. Carson believed these events were not only for raising money but for rich people to flaunt how much of it they had and how they were better than everyone else because they donated it to help the needy. Maybe the money spent on the event should go to those in need instead of pampering the rich attendees. Yet she couldn’t say anything because she was there.I’ll leave a donation to make up for it, she promised herself.

The only enjoyable part was a short video of local youth projected on a large canvas. Tiny faces with round cheeks filled the screen. Toothless smiles and giggles warmed the coldness currently encasing Carson’s heart. These children were the reason why she got out of bed and put on makeup and heels. Why she had joined her friends for a night out instead of sulking on the couch.

Carson’s composure shattered when a little boy with a head full of curls waved shyly at the camera. She dropped her eyes to look at something, anything else, then elected to shut her eyes all together.Breathe.

A gentle nudge on her shoulder got her attention. She looked up at Jax who, without using his words, questioned her countenance.

She faked a smile.

“It’s time for the best part of the evening,” a new speaker said, her eggplant gown glistening in the lights. “Can our eligible bachelors please come forward?”

In unison, Hunter and Jax stood and followed the other beefy firefighter clones up to the stage.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Raegan sang.

“Are you going to bid on Hunter?” Carson asked.

Raegan gave her a devious smile. “Nope.”

The auctioneer continued, “We have Prescott’s finest bachelors up for grabs tonight. And ladies”—she hid her mouth from the men on the stage with her hand—“they’re firefighters, and we all know what that means.” Then she whispered, “They’re good with their hoses.”

A rumble of laughter spread through the audience. Onstage, Hunter and Jax had taken their place in the middle of the row of men. Jax’s hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and he was entranced by something on the stage floor. Hunter whispered a comment to the guy next to him, and they both chuckled.

“You will be bidding on a date with one of these very fine gentlemen,” eggplant-dress lady continued. “Or more. I’m not here to judge. Pull out your pocketbooks, because the bidding starts now!”

The first firefighter, a blond man whose abs strained the limits of his dress shirt, stepped forward. Before the auctioneer could finish reading his bio, women in the audience began throwing out bids of two hundred, three hundred. Carson’s eyebrows rose with every increment until the auctioneer announced the winner, a brunette in a skintight, thigh-length dress, at twelve hundred dollars. Apparently, these people took charity very seriously.

“Wonderful!” the auctioneer cried. “Please find a seat next to your new date. Next, bachelor number two!”

As the auction played out, the firefighters would flex or spin to try and schmooze the audience. Carson couldn’t believe how much money some of the women were willing to spend for a date with a firefighter. It only proved her point about rich people flaunting their money.

Hunter’s turn came up. He sashayed into the spotlight, its light drowning out his freckled skin, and frivolously paraded himself like his fellow coworkers before him as if he were saying to Raegan, “Fine. If you’re making me be part of the auction, then I’m going tobepart of the auction.”

“A thirty-three-year-old Arizona native, Hunter Olson, spends his spare time using his big, strong hands to give the most sensual massages . . .”

That was when Hunter pretended to drop something on the stage and proceeded to theatrically bend over to pick it up, showing off his backside to the audience.

“One thousand!”

Carson searched for the bidder who’d spoken. Much to Raegan’s visible delight, it was an elderly woman who could not have been a day younger than a hundred. Maybe even two hundred. Damn, she was old. Onstage, Hunter’s eyes bugged with uncertainty, perhaps realizing the reality of his situation.

Raegan, on the other hand, cackled. “My night just got better.” Then she scowled at Carson. “Don’t youdarebid on him.”

“Thirteen hundred!” a younger, more age-appropriate woman yelled. Hunter regained his composure and twirled. The little old lady shot her competitor a death glare and countered with fifteen hundred. Before Carson knew it there was a bidding war. Hunter cheered them on, soon becoming the most expensive date yet. Eventually the younger woman gaveup, leaving the frail lady victorious at twenty-one hundred dollars. Her arthritic hands clapped as she celebrated her win.

Hunter stuck his tongue out at Raegan before descending the stage to meet the aged champion who enthusiastically threw her boney arms around him. One of those arms slid down and gave his butt a quick squeeze.

Tears were streaming down Raegan’s face from giggling. She used her table napkin to dab under her eyes. “And that’s why I love him.”

The voice of the auctioneer came over the speaker again. “Our next bachelor is thirty-two-year-old, Jax Miller, a born-and-raised Texan. The highest bidder may get a chance to learn ifeverythingis bigger in Texas.”

Unlike Hunter, Jax didn’t brandish his body. He kept his hands in his pockets, his shoulders up by his ears. A bashful smile played on his lips.

“Let’s start the bidding!”

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