Page 15 of Hazel and Elijah Find Out: First They F*cked Around

“Yeah.”

“My dad would not like this,” I pointed out. “He’d definitely push people to boycott.”

She swallowed. “Yeah.”

Ben gave her an encouraging smile. “Well, I’m happy to host an event. We just need it to be square with most everybody in town. This auction would raise too many hackles.”

“I think so too, but you know how Nora gets.”

One side of his mouth lifted, and he nodded. “She’s determined.”

“What sucks is how many men have said they’re willing to do this.”

“Really?” I knew the town had changed, but that seemed further than I would have expected. I couldn’t see older generations willing to help with the auction.

“I know. They’re willing to sell their time, but they don’t know what to do once their time has been bought.”

“They could sell their trade,” I suggested.

“Meaning?” Ben’s eyebrows drew together as understanding dawned in Hazel’s eyes.

“You’d sell a weekend of free drinks or something, Sterling could sell marketing work, Ransom would sell masonry, I’d sell computer repair. Your vets could sell off a certain number of appointments or something.”

“Like a silent auction?” she asked.

“No, because Nora’s right; it’s gotta be a little risqué, a little naughty. Get people talking about it, get ’em showing up. The men would still stand on stage, and people would still shout out bids, but it’s wholesome enough to not cause an uproar.”

“That might work.” Hazel covered her mouth to hide a yawn. The energy had been leaking from her little by little in the past few minutes.

“Hey, man,” I said to Ben, “can you get her some food so I can get her back to her car?”

“Sure thing. Let’s get you home, Hazel. I’ll reach out to Nora, and we’ll start figuring shit out.” He took our order to-go.

“We can eat here,” she said, but her voice was showing signs of exhaustion.

“It’s okay, I’ll bring you lunch tomorrow, and maybe we can talk then. I sprung this on you.”

“It’s a busy day tomorrow… I wasn’t planning on taking a lunch.”

“Then I’ll just bring you food, so at least you eat something.”

“I always have food in the work fridge. It’s the only way I eat during the day.”

“Okay.” I tried to keep my shoulders from hunching. It seemed that whatever I thought had passed between us last year was one-sided. She didn’t want me the way I wanted her.

We talked about the clinic and my business. I felt worse and worse for bringing her out as she massaged her temples and struggled to stay alert. When the food arrived, I paid, and we got back into my car. She argued that I didn’t have to follow her home when we got back to her vehicle.

“Are you uncomfortable with me knowing where you live?” I asked.

“No, you just don’t have to. I’ll be okay.” She pulled her keys from her coat pocket.

“I’d really like to make sure you get there safely.”

She nodded, covering her mouth on another yawn. We leaned across the center console for a hug. I was torn between the way she fit her head on my shoulder and how she felt in my arms, and the ache of knowing that she wasn’t noticing those things as well.

Holding up her to-go box, she reached for the door handle. “Thank you for dinner. I’m sorry I’m not much fun to be around right now.”

“I’m the one who should apologize. I’ve kept you from getting the rest you need.”

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