The Bachelor Cowboy Page 3

  Did he look amazing and ready to break some elderly hearts? Absolutely.

  “You’re just jealous that you don’t look as good as me,” Jack teased his brothers, tipping his hat back. “Besides, I have to look like I’m worth at least a couple hundred bucks to the ladies that are showing up at this thing. I can’t have Clyde beat me in the bachelor auction.”

  Hank stared at him. “Old Clyde? From Price Ranch? Isn’t he married?”

  “Yeah, but he wanted to participate anyway.”

  His big, bearded older brother stared at him. His mouth twitched, and then he snickered. “I can’t believe Clyde’s your competition.”

  “Oh, believe it.” Jack shrugged. “Word is that Hannah’s bringing her wallet and gonna spend a fortune on him.”

  “And you’re dressing up for this?” Caleb asked, a dubious look on his face.

  “Well, yeah. Amy and Becca asked me to do this. I might as well go all out.” He pointed at his brothers. “And you two owe me big.”

  Hank scowled in his direction. “Why the heck would we owe you anything?”

  “Because it’s your damn girlfriend”—he pointed at Caleb—“and your wife”—he pointed at Hank—“that are running this ridiculous show. They’re the ones that guilted me into doing this instead of helping out around here.”

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky,” Caleb offered. “Maybe some local angel with nice boobs will bid on you.”

  Hank just looked as if he was trying not to laugh.

  Jack was pretty sure that the odds of any local angel showing up to this Valentine’s auction were pretty slim. Or his angel would be gray-haired and old enough to be his nana, not his date.

  Now that he was thinking about it, maybe he shouldn’t have shaved. Jack rubbed his naked jaw again. Charity, he reminded himself. This is for charity and for your sister-in-law and for Amy. You aren’t doing it because you’re expecting to score.

  It’s charity. Nothing more.

  * * *

  * * *

  I can’t believe you brought your crochet to the auction,” Amy hissed at Layla as they sat at the numbered table.

  “Believe it, sister.” Layla hooked another loop in the scarf she was making and shrugged. “Mrs. Kilpatrick brought hers.”

  “She’s ninety.”

  “So? She’s still here to buy a bachelor. Like me.”

  “Yes, but . . .” Amy protested, and then sighed. “It just seems weird, that’s all.”

  “The weirder it is, the more I like it.” Layla did a few more loops, concentrating on her project. In a way, it helped her calm down. She was incredibly nervous—and sweaty—at the thought of having to bid on a guy at the auction today. She knew she was the backup plan and hopefully it wouldn’t be necessary. Maybe several ladies looking for love would show up with fat wallets and make this charity shindig a success.

  Layla had her suspicions, though.

  For one, the room wasn’t more than half full. The Painted Barrel Animal Helpers Committee had decorated the gymnasium at the high school in all manner of construction paper hearts and pink garlands. There were pink and red flowers at every round table and white tablecloths to add a touch of romance. There was a volunteer DJ (who looked like he was fourteen) putting on romantic music, and pink balloons filled the room. Each table had cute stationery and glitter stamps so you could write a love note for your valentine. There were heart-shaped cookies with bright red frosting and Layla had already eaten two of them. It was all really adorable.

  Problem was, no one was there.

  Oh sure, the elderly bingo-hall folks had shown up, but they hadn’t quite come in the numbers that Amy and Becca had expected. Maybe word hadn’t gotten out. Maybe there was a football game on. Maybe people were wanting to do other things with their Valentine’s Day than bid on a bachelor, but whatever the reason, the situation was looking pretty grim.

  Layla hooked faster, her hands sweaty and nervous. “So how many bachelors did you end up with?”

  Amy looked miserable. “Eleven. We had another last-minute drop. Turned out his girlfriend lost her dentures and didn’t want to come out in public without them. Not that I blame her, but it just means less money for the charity.” She twisted her hands in her lap.

  “We could both buy a bachelor,” Layla suggested. “I can spot you the money.”

  “I think we have bidders for the others,” Amy said, her gaze roaming the curtained stage like the most impatient stage mom ever. “But if we don’t hit our goal, you might have to buy two.”

  Layla glanced around. “Where’s Becca?”

  “She’s coordinating props and making sure they’re all fed.”

  Do . . . what? Layla wasn’t entirely sure she’d heard that right and meant to ask, but a woman with a frosty white beehive and an absolutely glittering dress pushed her walker up to their table and sat down. She smiled at them. “Hello, girls.”

  “Oh man, I love your dress,” Layla told her sincerely. “Were we supposed to dress up?” She glanced down at her worn black cardigan over a gaming T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was in her usual bun and she wasn’t wearing makeup other than a slick of tinted lip gloss. Maybe she should have dressed up, but she was trying to throw a vibe into the universe: if she didn’t look like a hot piece, she wouldn’t need to win a man at auction.

  “Honey, when you’re my age, you take any excuse to put on fancy clothes,” the woman said, chuckling. “I’m Cora.”

  “Layla,” she said, offering her hand. “This is Amy.”

  Amy smiled at her. “Thank you for coming, Cora. Do you have your eye on anyone in particular?”

  “All of them,” Cora said with a sassy wink, and Layla decided she wanted to be Cora when she grew up. She patted her little spangly coin purse. “I’m going to bid on all of the bachelors because no one should go home alone.”

  “That’s amazing.” Amy clutched at her chest.

  “Total baller cougar move,” Layla agreed, and Cora just chuckled and waved a hand in the air.

  The lights flashed and went down and the music stopped. A microphone clicked on, and when the lights flicked back up, Sage Cooper-Clements came out onstage. She was wearing a bright red sweater dress and beamed at everyone. “Thank you so much for coming out to support the Painted Barrel Animal Helpers Committee. This committee was founded in order to provide our town with a place for stray animals to stay in safety. As you all know, since we’re on the small side”—she paused for the inevitable chuckles—“we don’t have very many municipal buildings. Our library is in the water department, as is city hall and my office and . . . well, pretty much every city job imaginable.” She grinned, dimpling. “But if we raise enough money today, we’re going to add on to the municipal building and make a place for our furry friends. To show you just who we’re building this addition for, each of our bachelors is going to come out with a dog that is currently being housed with volunteers until we can find him or her the perfect forever home. So you can not only bid on a bachelor today, but you can bid on a dog for adoption, too.”

  Polite applause filled the room.

  “But I don’t want to stand up here and talk to you all day. We’re here for the men, right?”

  More polite applause.

  Oh god, Layla was secondhand embarrassed for poor Sage, having to try to pep up this mostly empty room. Seriously, why were there so many tables? Painted Barrel wasn’t a huge town, and if half of the residents had shown up, Layla wasn’t sure if the gym would be full then. This seemed like a lot for just eleven bachelors to be auctioned.

  As if she could read Layla’s mind, Amy leaned over, a worried look on her face. “We were supposed to team up with another town to do this, but they fell through on us.” She bit her lip. “I can’t believe it’s been so hard to pull a charity together.”

  “I know, you’d think people would wan
t the tax deductions, am I right?” Layla joked.

  Amy batted at her arm. “Very funny.”

  Well, to Layla it was.

  “We’ll start the bidding at five dollars for each guy,” Sage said. “And we’ll go in increments of fives until there’s a winner. You’re bidding on each gentleman and his particular skill set. The person that wins their bachelor will coordinate with him for the ‘date’ of their choosing. Good luck to all the ladies out there.” The music started again and Sage exited off the stage and went to a podium just at the edge. “We’ll start with bachelor number one . . . Garvis Newsome!”

  The music from Magic Mike started playing—“Pony” by Ginuwine.

  Layla groaned and picked up her crochet again. “I am sweating, Amy. This is so mortifying for these men.”

  Garvis strutted out onto the stage. He had the skinny, bowed legs of a man that had spent most of his life in the saddle, and a weathered face with a white handlebar mustache that Layla had only seen in memes. She knew a lot of people in Painted Barrel, but Garvis was not one of them. He tipped his cowboy hat back and then started to do a little dance. She wasn’t sure if it was the Cabbage Patch or a dab, but it was making her incredibly uncomfortable. As he strutted forward in his red-and-black-plaid shirt and leather vest, he carried the leash of a very confused copper dachshund. The wiener dog gamely trotted after the cowboy and sat the moment they hit the middle of the stage and scratched at his ear.

  “Garvis is a much-in-demand farrier,” Sage called out in a chirpy voice. “Do your horses need a little TLC? Do you need a little TLC yourself? Then take a good look at Garvis! He’s our first bachelor for the day. Let’s start the bidding, shall we?”

  “One dollar!” Cora called out in a reedy voice.

  There was a ripple of laughter. Sage smiled and then leaned into her microphone. “The bids start at five dollars, everyone.”

  “Two dollars!” Cora yelled.

  Layla leaned over to Amy. “I am totally going to nervous puke right about now.”

  “Oh god, I am, too,” Amy whispered back. She clutched at Layla’s hand, making it impossible for Layla to do more crochet. Not that she could, anyhow. Her hands were so clammy from secondhand embarrassment that the yarn was losing all tension. She set it down on the table for now and let Amy squeeze her hand in support.

  “Five dollars,” someone called out.

  Garvis clapped his hands with delight, startling the dog at his side. It barked at him, and the crowd laughed once more.

  Amy buried her face in her hands.

  “Surely someone can bid more than five dollars?” Sage asked, a worried smile on her face as she gazed out at the crowd.

  “Two dollars,” Cora called again. No one laughed this time.

  Oh god. Here was where Layla took one for the team. She squeezed Amy’s hand and then raised her free one into the air. “Two hundred dollars,” Layla called.

  The room erupted with noise. Layla thought Sage was going to come over the podium and kiss her with gratitude.

  “All right,” the mayor called happily. “We have a bid for two hundred dollars! Sounds like someone needs a big handsome farrier to come over for an afternoon!”

  Onstage, Garvis flexed.

  “Two hundred fifty,” called another voice, and Layla breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t even sure what a farrier was, but if it had something to do with horses, he was out of luck. Layla had a house cat and that was it.

  Luckily, the bidding started to rise in earnest, and there was a lot of laughter and good spirits as the money slowly escalated. When it hit seven hundred fifty, the bidding came to a standstill, and an elderly woman jumped up with glee when she was announced the winner. The people at her table cheered, and even Garvis looked thrilled. Layla remembered that Amy had mentioned something about most of the bachelors being “bought” by their girlfriends anyhow. Even so, it looked like everyone was having fun. Garvis bounded off the stage and handed off the wiener dog’s leash, exchanging it for a bouquet of bright red roses, which he presented to his new date.

  That was a little disappointing. Layla had kinda been rooting for the wiener dog. He looked so small and confused up on the stage next to the cavorting cowboy.

  “Okay,” Amy breathed. “Seven hundred fifty isn’t bad. That’s not bad at all. If they all go for that much, we just might hit our goal.”

  Layla leaned over, the accountant in her taking over. “Actually, you’d still be seventeen hundred and fifty dollars short—uh, never mind.” She bit off her own words at Amy’s frustrated glare. Boy, nobody had a sense of humor when it came to this auction.

  At the other side of the table, poor Cora looked depressed and Layla felt so bad for her. Maybe she hadn’t heard the rules and that was why she’d bid so low. Layla reached out and touched the other woman’s arm. “Don’t you worry, Miss Cora. We’ll get you a bachelor today, I promise.”

  Cora giggled. “I was bidding on the dog.”

  A woman after Layla’s own heart.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The auction rolled a little more smoothly after that. The next few bachelors all sold for several hundred dollars each, though not as much as Garvis. Each man came out with a cute dog and strolled around the stage while Sage extolled their virtues, and then the auction would begin in earnest. Cora bid a dollar each time, and Layla wasn’t sure if Cora was just the world’s oldest troll and having fun at their expense, or if she genuinely thought her dollar bid was legit.

  Layla bid two more times herself, when no one was quick to bid right out of the gate. Once for Mr. Johnson, who she always ran into at the grocery store. And then she bid for old Mr. Hill, who mowed lawns, because he got peed on by the puppy he was holding, and because, well, Layla’s lawn could use a little work. And it was all for charity anyhow.

  She figured if she was having to buy her love, she might as well get some weeding out of it. But she was quickly outbid on him, and really, that was fine.

  Cora turned and looked at Layla with a pitiful expression. “You and I aren’t having much luck today, are we?”

  “It’s okay,” Layla told her reassuringly. “We’re bound to get lucky at some point. Did you have your eye on someone in particular?”

  “Well.” Cora thought, then sighed. “I still keep thinking about the fat wiener from before.”

  Layla blinked.

  “The dog,” Amy whispered behind her hand, trying to hold her smile.

  Oh riiight. The wording was just too perfect. Layla bit back a snicker and cleared her throat. “You know, Miss Cora, we can check in after the auction and see if the dog is available to adopt. That’s supposed to be the point of this whole thing—to find homes for stray animals that need some love.”

  Cora brightened. “Do you think so, dear? I’ve been saving all month and I’d love a companion.” She fingered her two wrinkled dollars that she kept bidding over and over again.

  Layla’s heart broke a little. Was that all that Cora had as her savings or was this just more of her confusion? Or her trolling? Either way, she vowed that she would make sure that Cora had a dog in her arms by the time she left, even if Layla had to pay for it. She glanced over at Amy, but Amy was chewing on her lip, writing numbers down on a napkin and desperately trying to do the math as the next bachelor came out onstage. Layla had done the numbers in her head, and they were still close to three thousand dollars short of the goal. That had to be disappointing for her friends, who’d worked so hard to pull this together. There were still two bachelors left, with the second to the last being bid on right now. He had a pit-bull puppy in his arms and his girlfriend was bidding on him . . . but it wouldn’t be enough money. Even if Layla bought the last bachelor due to lack of bids (which didn’t look as if it’d be the case given how the other auctions had gone), it wouldn’t be enough. Maybe Layla could do some research, look up some tax incent
ives for the city that might make up the difference—

  Amy grabbed her arm as the bidding continued. “Don’t look now,” she hissed. “But your mother is here.”

  Every bit of Layla went cold. Janet Schmidt was here? At the auction? This day was going from bad to much, much worse. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “She’s near the door. Looking for you.” Amy patted her arm. “I’d tell you to hide in the bathroom, but we both know she’d probably find you.”

  She would. Janet had been known to peek under stall doors looking for Layla in the past. “She thinks I’m here to bid on a boyfriend,” Layla whispered as her mother caught sight of her and waved.

  “Lucky for you Jack is up next,” Amy said, patting her hand.

  Oh lord. And all the “bachelors” so far were more Janet’s age than Layla’s. Her mother would sense a plot for sure, and then she’d get bombarded with all kinds of nagging and guilt and her weekend would be ruined. Layla glanced over and Janet waved even harder.

  “Are you bidding, ma’am?” Sage asked from the podium.

  “I’m just here to see my daughter. She’s going to bid on a man,” Janet called out loudly, trotting over to Layla’s table in ridiculously high heels.

  Cringe. Cringe twice. Layla kept smiling even though the urge to flee was running rampant through her system. Why did Janet always do this to her? Janet was the mom that showed up in the skintight bandage dress at Layla’s school dances. She was the mom that flirted with the teachers. The mom that always made sure the attention was on Janet and not Layla.

  Of course she’d show up to a bachelor auction to try to nose in and see what her daughter was up to. Part of it was Janet being an overbearing mom. Part of it was Janet being bored. And part of it was Janet wanting a slice of the action. Her mom would absolutely not be above flirting with a guy that Layla was interested in. She’d done it in the past. Was it shitty? Yes. Was it something Layla expected at this point? Also yes.

  So she shouldn’t have been surprised to see her mother. Yet somehow, Layla always was. She always expected Janet to be a bit more . . . mom-like. Never happened.