Page 28 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 1

My therapist had taught me to focus on my five senses. The first being sight. Look for something in your general vicinity; it could be anything. In this case, it was the bouquet of flowers that sat on the low glass coffee table.

The flowers were the palest pink roses mixed with bright yellow yarrow flowers that had a long blooming period, usually from June through September. I then inhaled fully, using mysecond sense, smell, to take in the lush scent of the roses. They were lovely, and the floral notes were subtle but pleasant. Next was touch. I tuned into the chill of the glass I held and focused on how the cool temperature contrasted against the warmth coming from the windows. I tried to ignore sound, because the fear I’d experienced elevated even the slightest noise, making my own breath seem overly loud. Last was taste. I swore we’d been so close that I could practically taste Jack’s cologne on the tip of my tongue.

Even though the man was frustrating, he did help me through a frightening experience. Perhaps I should have given him my real phone number? It wasn’t likely that he’d call anyway, but when he did, he’d get a rude awakening. I smiled to myself. Part of me liked the visual of such a suave, attractive man calling the local pizzeria in my hometown of Eureka, California, and being told that “Rebecca” did not work there.

“Feeling better, Summer?” Madam Alana asked.

I took another sip of the icy water and sighed. “Yes, thank you. I will admit to being pretty scared.”

The Madam waved her hand. “As would anyone,chéri. Are you feeling well enough to discuss the auction?”

I sat up straight and put my glass down on the coaster so it wouldn’t leave a wet ring on the pristinely clean glass. Someone must wipe that down every single day for it to look that nice.

“Summer?” Alana’s voice brought me back from my squirrel moment. Often when I’d had an anxiety-induced attack or episode, my mind would drift to random things. It was annoying, but also part of who I was.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “Yes, sorry. I’m very eager to be entered into the auction,” I announced my intention, something she already knew, which was why we were meeting in the first place.

“You’ve read through the terms and conditions?” she clarified.

I nodded. “I have. Nothing seemed out of place or unacceptable.” I knew both of those things because my parents had poured over every detail of the paperwork. They then had one of our family lawyers do the same. The lawyer found the entire situation rather disturbing, because signing your life away for three years for a lump sum of money wasn’t the normal path couples took toward holy matrimony. However, I wasn’t a normal woman, and my parents were the absolute opposite of it.

They were born and bred hippies who lived in the Emerald Triangle of Humboldt County. We ran one of the nation’s largest cannabis farms. My father was a botanist handling the sciences behind our many strains while I was the family horticulturist. I made sure things grew. Every farm in our county called me to evaluate their plants and discuss their needs. Regardless of the potential for competition, I always helped. There was room in the cannabis sector for everyone. Now my mom, well, she was a practicing witch. Basically, a magical fairy in her own way. She was in touch with nature and the universe in all its many forms. Everything she handled turned to gold, or in our case, green.

We were a family of growers, and so far, we’d been the best at it. The problem wasn’t our product, it was the fact that we were so big, one of us needed to truly take the business to the next level. Since my parents were already in their sixties and my sister wanted no part of the business side, I needed to be the one to do it. Except I didn’t know anything about running a business. We’d always hired those people to do the office work, but we were at the point where we probably needed to go public or hire someone who could take the company further. Whatever that looked like, we needed help.

“I will admit to having been surprised when reviewing your file. If I may be bold and up front with you?”

“Please. I’m an open book. Ask anything you want to know,” I encouraged.

“After reviewing your background checks and history, I note you are already a multimillionaire.”

I nodded. “Yep. Business is booming.”

The Madam cleared her throat and crossed her toned legs, placing her hands to her knees looking incredibly prim and proper while I had my bare feet up on her white leather couch. I instantly realized my mistake and shoved my legs back down and reached for my shoes with my toes, to no avail.

“Then I’m to assume you don’t need the money from the auction?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I have tons of money. My family is set in that regard.”

Her sculpted brows narrowed. “Then may I ask what is the reason you want to be entered if not for the money? You’re uniquely beautiful, so I can’t imagine it’s a problem for you to find a prospective mate.”

“Pshhhhh. Don’t let the cover of the book fool you. I’m super awkward when it comes to attractive men. There was a man in the elevator… Whoo, boy. Hot as the California Valley in the middle of July. I was all kinds of dorky. Fumbling around. I dropped my purse that had a pair of undies in it. That was embarrassing. Meeting men has never been a problem for me. It’s my flighty and carefree nature and clumsiness that often puts a man off.”

“Oh?” she asked, suggesting with her tone that I continue.

I shrugged. “Sure. I spend a lot of time with my parents. They’re really cool, and I like being around them. I also love my community. We’re very family-oriented.”

“Family-oriented?” Her gaze flitted to her assistant who sat quietly next to us. They looked at one another, something passing between them I wasn’t privy to.

“Are you interested in having children?” Alana asked.

A wave of happiness immediately flooded my system. “Gosh, I wouldlovea whole bunch of kids. I can just imagine teaching some little ones how to plant and grow their own food. The pride in eating something you’ve grown yourself. Teaching them the business my parents started from a small acre on their own private land, that has grown into hundreds of acres over the years. Kids are awesome,” I agreed.

“What are you looking for in a bidder, if I may ask?” Alana changed the trajectory of her questions.

“Truthfully, my mom and I discussed this concept, and we figured that bidders are probably successful businessmen in one way or another, right?” I asked, wanting to ensure I was on the right track. Otherwise, it would all be moot.

“Yes, that is an accurate assumption, however the businesses vary drastically from artists, famous composers, entertainment investors, real estate tycoons, and the like.”

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