Page 84 of The Holiday Clause
The women cheered and hollered. One even whistled like a conductor.
“That’s what I like to hear! Loosen those corsets and lower your inhibitions. It’s time to raise some funds for a great cause!”
More wild cheers.
“My fellow lovers of questionable decisions and throbbing plotlines,” Jocelyn said, expression sobering and tone shifting into satirical deadpan as if announcing a humanitarian disaster. “We gathered tonight, not just for a good time, though let’s be honest, several of you are already halfway there, but because there exists a crisis in Hideaway Harbor. A quiet, devastating,deeply unsexy crisis. Our local library’s romance section is growing, and all those glistening, shirtless men on the shelves need a bigger home. We must find them shelter by adding additional shelves in the new wing your charity supports tonight.”
The women gasped as if clutching their invisible pearls, then booed.
“I know. I know. Don’t even get me started on the surge of homeless Vikings,” Jocelyn continued. “How are we, as a community, supposed to raise empowered, well-read, emotionally intelligent, and sexually satisfied women if they can’t access the books guaranteed to get them off? They deserve more than fade-to-black-off-the-page romance, and to make that happen we need more shelves!”
“Save the shirtless cover models!” one woman yelled.
“New bookshelves! New bookshelves!” a rowdy horde at the back table chanted.
“Give us more man chest!”
“And more Viking kidnappings!”
Jocelyn nodded with great aplomb. “The youth deserve better. We deserve better.”
“I wanna be tied up by a pirate!” someone screamed, and Lola made a slashing gesture across her neck, signaling to the bartender that the woman was flagged.
“So tonight, my darling romance readers, I ask you to bid as high as your standards, drink deeply, and give generously. Now, let’s support those book stacks and admire some six-packs.” She raised her drink and shouted, “Send out the men!”
The crowd went wild as festive music blasted from the speakers. A parade of holiday-themed men strutted onto the stage, but she didn’t see Soren.
Wren reviewed the program. He was number twelve on the list. The last bachelor on the block. And he was probably trying to wiggle his ass out of a bathroom window at the moment.
The first few bachelors brought their holiday spirit. One wore a glittery red bowtie, and another wore a black tux. One even came out topless with a red nose and reindeer antlers. The audience went nuts, jumping to their feet and shouting wildly whenever they got a muscle flex or little dance from the men.
As an MC, Jocelyn was perfect. Her unfiltered, inappropriate humor kept the crowd engaged and anxious to start the bidding.
“You can trim my Christmas tree!”
“Let’s see those Yule logs!”
Wren never saw anything like it. She wondered how much alcohol the bartenders put in the drinks.
“I got yourho, ho, horight here!”
The whole thing was a sexual harassment case waiting to happen. It was probably good Hideaway Harbor didn’t have an HR department that Wren knew of.
When she finally spotted Soren, he looked terrified, like cornered prey. Rather than strut onto the stage like the rest of them, he reluctantly shuffled onto the platform, his hands buried in his pockets and his shoulders rounded protectively.
Wren snorted into her spiced cider. He wasn’t dressed like the others. There was nothing festive about his dark jeans and black corded designer sweater.
“Meet Soren Hawthorne,” Jocelyn announced, waving him onto the catwalk. “He’s broody and moody, but he knows how to use a rope—both nautically and recreationally.”
He looked absolutely terrified. The women acted like they’d never seen men before.
Soren scanned the audience, squinting through the blinding stage lights. When he finally spotted Wren at the bar, he dropped his head back and visibly sighed in relief.
“All right, men, line up along the back, and let’s start the bidding. And remember, ladies, when you bid, you get one of these exclusive bookmarks to take home.” She held up the swag and squinted at the design. “They say,‘I came. I saw. I bid. And I hope to come again.’”
The music shifted to a much sexier rhythm as holiday music started to play.
“First up, we have bachelor number one, Shaun Eriksen. Shaun’s a thirty-two-year-old CrossFit enthusiast who rides a motorcycle and works in real estate.”
