Page 15 of Attraction & Repulsion

Immediately Jax locked eyes with Carson. His expression was pleading, almost forlorn. Then the connection was broken when someone cried out the first bid.

“One thousand!”

“Fifteen hundred!”

The shouting progressed. Carson observed the different women bidding on Jax. They were all lavishly attractive. She pictured him beside one of them, going out for dinner, him holding the door open, his date hanging on his arm.

Carson’s spine went rigid. Was physical touch part of the arrangement? What were the limits? She couldn’t remember them describing what a date with a firefighter entailed. Surely it was just platonic. It would be absurd if anyone would allow anything more than dinner. Oh, who was she kidding? They were adults and could do whatever they wanted.

Another bidder called out the next offer. Leaning back, Carson foldedher arms across her chest, crossing her legs. Another bid. She rolled her eyes. These people were ridiculous. It was just a date, for crying out loud.

“Three thousand going once . . .”

Carson craned her neck to spot who might be the highest bidder; a woman squeezed into a green cocktail dress and a curtain of platinum hair. Kristen had blond hair, she recalled.

“Going twice . . .” A dramatic pause. “Sold!”

Carson flinched at the word. Jax nodded at the auctioneer and ambled down the steps toward the woman who had purchased him. The closer he got to her, the faster Carson’s heart beat in her chest, and the lower her shoulders sank. The woman stood to greet him, flipping her hair behind her before giving Jax what Carson believed was an inordinately long hug.

Uncomfortable, Carson squirmed in her chair. She was overreacting, but why? Why did she care about the way green-dress’ eyes twinkled at Jax or manicured hand lingered on his arm? Raegan’s own husband had been auctioned off, and she was acting perfectly rational. So why did Carson’s chest twinge at watching Jax take a seat next to the woman?

Just then, Jax caught her eye. He didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the woman’s advances either. As his eyes darted between Carson and his new date, his expression was somber.

Carson mustered a fake smile for him, wishing he would stop looking at her. Confused and flustered enough as it was, she didn’t need those ocean eyes muddling her thoughts even more.

Returning her attention to the stage, Carson wondered what Luke would do if he was there. If he had been a firefighter, Raegan would have most definitely forced him into the auction just like Hunter. And Carson would have allowed it. Both wives would giggle as their husbands tried their hardest to sell their bodies. She could imagine Hunter and Luke teamingup on stage and doing a silly dance or striking absurd poses. But, unlike Raegan, Carson would bid on him. Just like in the movies, where the main character would throw out a crazy amount of money and the whole room would gasp. She would give anything to be able to bid on Luke.

Finally, the last fireman was sold off, and the ceremony finished with a final speech from Prescott’s mayor. People began standing up and excitedly conversing with one another. Hunter and the feeble lady appeared at their table. Carson could detect the suffocating stench of moth balls emanating from her.

“Who are these . . . people?” rasped the old woman, giving them a disapproving leer.

“Gloria, I’d like to introduce you to my sister,” Hunter said, his hand extended toward Raegan.

Carson choked on her spit. Raegan scowled at Hunter, who glowered back with a twinkle in his eye.

“I’ll take good care of your brother,” said Gloria. “See you next week, dear.” Then, to Carson’s surprise, the little old lady slapped Hunter on the butt before waddling away.

Carson strolled over to the few tables overflowing with silent auction treasures: woven blankets with Indigenous designs, season tickets for the local football team, an obscure painting of . . . she had no idea what it was. Someone had even donated a signed photograph of Elvis Presley. Luke’s grandpa was a huge fan of The King of Rock and Roll. He would have loved to add another to his collection.

Eyeing a particular piece of jewelry—a copper ring embedded with circular raw turquoise that sat flush with the metal and two small Apache tear fragments bordering the main stone—she gently brushed the tip of her finger over it. According to the place card, it was her size, and she was tempted to bid on it. She balked when she saw the amount of the latest bid, five hundred dollars. But she promised she would donate money for the cause so she scribbled down a hundred dollars more than the last offer, not having much hope that she would win.

“Mr. Hoover.”

Jumping at the unexpected visitor, Carson slammed her hip into the table—the same hip that she’d maimed the night before. The table rocked once before settling, its load of items safe.

“Oof.” She tensed at the sharp, stinging pain and rubbed her side.

Jax was already reaching to console her. “I really need to stop hurting you. Are you okay?”

Not wanting to draw any more attention to her body, Carson dropped her own hands. “I’m fine,” she said. Then she noticed that Jax was alone. “Where’s your date?”

Jax’s lips fell disapprovingly. “She left. But I wanted to check out this stuff before I went home.”

“Oh . . . me too.”

“Are Hunter and Raegan still here?” he asked, as they inspected the next item, a ride on a Zamboni at the Roadrunner Sports Complex.

“They left a few minutes ago.”

---