Page 85 of The Holiday Clause
As Jocelyn gave the bachelor’s stats, he strutted down the catwalk, turning for all the ladies and getting the crowd even more excited than they already seemed. “The bidding starts at twenty dollars.”
Naughty Santa paddles went flying into the air.
“I see twenty. Do I see thirty? I see thirty. Do I have a forty?”
Bachelor Number One’s confidence immediately bolstered. That’s when the real showing off started.
“Honestly, ladies, who needs books when you have biceps like that? Wowzers!” Jocelyn pointed into the crowd. “One hundred and twenty dollars! Do I hear another bid? Last call for Mr. Tall... One hundred and twenty dollars going once, going twice, sold—to the lucky woman in the red hat and blinking clitoris earrings!”
The bachelor carried a red rose off the stage and presented it to the winner.
“Next up...”
Turning back to the bar, Wren sipped her spiced cider. She didn’t know where her friend found the stamina. Or where she found such insatiable readers. These women seemed horny, hungry, and well-financed. What if she couldn’t outbid them?
She checked her wallet and winced. Twenty-six dollars. Did they take debit? Soren was going to pay her back every cent for this.
“Who knew there were this many dirty Christmas songs?” a woman passing the bar said to her friend.
As naughty holiday music continued to play, Bachelors Two and Three had their turn on the catwalk, both selling for a generous two hundred dollars.
The closer it came to Soren’s turn, the more he fidgeted on stage. Wren laughed when he flagged over a waitress and ordered two shots, slamming both down as Bachelor Number Eight went off to old Mrs. Pierce for the hefty sum of three hundred and eighty dollars.
By the time the bidding started for Bachelor Number Eleven, Soren’s face glistened with sweat. He tugged anxiously at his collar, eyes wide, like a reindeer caught in the headlights.
“Sold—for four hundred-forty-five dollars! Thank you, Bridget.” The music shifted to another sultry holiday tune. “Our last and final bachelor of the evening tried to sneak out through the chimney, but you’ve gotta get up earlier than that to fool Jocelyn Collins. They don’t call me the queen of plot twists and Viking steam for nothing!” Jocelyn laughed, and Wren wondered who kept bringing her friend fresh drinks. “He’s a little shy, but I promise you, ladies, he’s worth the wait. Let’s start the bidding on Soren Hawthorne?—”
Everyone cheered and jumped to their feet. The bidding moved so fast that they passed two hundred dollars before Wren even got her paddle in the air.
“Shit.” She panicked and called out, “Four hundred!”
But three other women outbid her.
“This is getting ridiculous.” Wren waved her paddle higher in the air, now kneeling on her barstool. “Four-ninety!”
“Wren’s back in the game! Do I hear five hundred?”
The battle continued. The younger of her two opponents dropped out, but the middle-aged woman in the blinking elf hat meant business.
“Five-thirty!” Wren yelled. How high did they expect her to go?
When Little Miss Elf Ears passed six hundred dollars, Wren hesitated.
“Six-hundred going once,” Jocelyn called. “Six hundred going twice.”
Soren’s eyes bulged as he gave her a signal to bid again. This had to end. Wren plunged her paddle into the air. “Seven hundred dollars!” Soren better have cash on him.
“Seven hundred-fifty!” the relentless woman in the front shouted.
Was she kidding?
Soren waved her on, his eyes anxious as he fidgeted on the stage. The excitement made it hard to breathe.
“Who’s going to end this?” Jocelyn asked, her eyes teasing as she smirked at Wren with that cocky I-told-you-so grin.
The aggressive bidder in the front flashed a confident grin as if already tasting victory. Wren had a feeling she wouldn’t back down until she tasted Soren as well.
Her competitive nature couldn’t let that happen. Shooting her paddle overhead, Wren yelled, “Two thousand dollars!”
