Page 2 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 1

The bartender approached as a quiet hum settled over us.

“Thank you…for the drink,” I whispered, suddenly feeling shy, which was the exact opposite of my normal, overly confident approach to most things, including overtures from the opposite sex.

“You’re welcome.” Memphis lifted his glass. “To smiling, every day,” he said with his pearly whites clearly visible, proving he practiced what he preached. I stared at his beautiful, kind,angular face. I’d thought he was handsome before, but when he smiled—breathtaking.

“To smiling.” I couldn’t help but grin myself.

“Aw, there’s what I was hoping for. A beautiful smile to go with a stunning woman.” He clinked his beer glass lightly to the edge of my martini.

“Flattery will get youeverywhere.” I sipped the vodka slowly, allowing the tang from the olives and the burn from the alcohol to wash over my tastebuds before I swallowed.

“Is that right?” He chuckled. “I’ll have to remember that.”

I said nothing, preferring to be mysterious rather than give anything more away. I wasn’t here to meet a man. Not in the conventional sense. Besides, only seconds prior to Memphis approaching, I’d been kicked to the curb by a man I’d genuinely thought had promise for more.

He took a large pull from his beer and gave a hearty, “Aaaahhhh, I sure needed that.”

“Long day?” I asked.

“Flew in from Atlanta today after helping my folks clear the yard, readying it for winter.”

“Clear the yard?” I had no idea what he was talking about.

“You know, the yard. Weeding, mowing, pruning, cutting all the foliage back for the upcoming change in the seasons.”

“Ah, I see.” I lied again. I knew nothing about landscaping. My family had a team of people who took care of the grounds at each of our houses. I didn’t even know who took care of mine, leaving the details of such needs to my property managers, of which I had ten. One for each of my personal properties.

“My mother loves to garden. Grows veggies during the spring and summer, on top of keeping an immaculate rose garden.” He held up a finger and pulled his phone out of an inner pocket in his sportscoat. “Hold up, I’ll show you.”

While he scanned his phone I took in his attire. He was well dressed and looked spectacular in light gray slacks paired with a baby blue dress shirt that was opened at his collar. His neck was muscular and thick, meeting his shoulders in a way that celebrated his built physique. The man worked out. And based on the way his shirt stretched across his broad chest, he not only worked out, hetrained. Perhaps daily, like I did.

It sure would have been nice to work out with someone other than my personal trainer. To have a big, hunky guy like Memphis spotting me while I did bench presses, bending down to steal a kiss as a reward.

“See!” His warm voice burst my romantic bubble as he pressed his phone into my hand.

Suddenly, I was looking at a lush rose garden.

“Dayum. Your mother is gifted.” I complimented.

His pretty-boy smile went supernova. “Agreed. She’s the shit,” he added.

“Ah, are you a momma’s boy?” I teased and flicked from page to page on his phone, viewing one incredible rose after another in all varying shades of the rainbow. The last image however happened to be one of Memphis and a statuesque woman dressed to kill in cocktail attire. He was wearing a fine suit and she a slinky black dress with a slit straight up to the hip. They stood cheek to cheek, looking like the perfect couple.

Now, I knew I was no slouch in the beauty department, and had had my fair share of compliments by both men and women, but his companion was in the leagues of the famed Ms. Riri aka Rihanna, aka one of the world’s most beautiful women. At least in my not-so-humble opinion.

“Damn straight, and proud of it.” Memphis reached for his phone, and I handed it back to him, the reminder of the woman he was clearly so comfortable with simmering at the forefront of my mind.

“Nothing wrong with a man who respects and loves his mother,” I agreed.

“What about you? When I approached you seemed as though you’d just received bad news. Care to talk about it? Sometimes it helps getting things off your chest.”

“By confiding in a stranger?” I could feel my eyebrows rising toward my hairline.

He shrugged and took another pull from his beer. “Sure, why not. What do you have to lose?”

Well, I supposed nothing, now that I had an inkling he was spoken for.

“I was just blown off by a man who I believed I felt a spark with.” I pressed my lips together, holding back the snarl I wanted to express at Jamal’s obvious immaturity.

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