The Auction: Young Adult Romance, New Adult Romance, Forbidden Love (Magnolia Grove Book 1) (4 page)

The lights of the ballroom flicker as the emcee, Harry, takes the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for dinner. Please take your seats. The women of Magnolia Grove have a fun-filled evening planned for you. Sit back, relax, and enjoy.”

Cammie re-enters the tent, and my eyes follow her as she sits. Within moments, she glances over both shoulders.
Sweet Cammie. No one knows except for me
. Taking that as my cue, I walk up behind her, pull my chair out, and sit. “Hey, tigress.”

She inhales sharply. “Why do you always call me that?”

I grin. “I don’t know. Seems to fit your, er, wild personality.” I’m not ready to tell her the real reasons for the nickname. That’s something I’ve always envisioned being a special moment between us, one in which we’re alone for starters. Ideally, in love. That time is definitely not now.

Rolling her eyes, she glances at Oliver, who is, as usual, completely ignoring her. She turns back to me. “Ha. Very funny.” She’s not laughing. She’s not even smiling. “Did you pay someone off to be able to sit with us?”

“You think I need to pay someone off to be assigned to your table?” I place my hand under the long tablecloth and on her thigh. Her legs tighten as her eyes widen. “Well, do you?” My fingers lightly wander up her leg, making their way to her exposed pussy. Damn, her skin feels like satin beneath my fingers.

Shaking her head, she swallows. Her eyes are hooded, and her lips slightly part. Her hand captures mine, moving it to my leg instead of hers. “Perhaps you should find your original seat, though.”

I chuckle. “This is my original seat.” I grab the place card in front of me and flip it around so she can see it. “Says so right here.”

She blows out an unsteady breath and shakes her head before smoothing back her hair.

“So, let’s cut to the chase. Tell me all about your package.” I know all about her package. “I mean, the one that’s up for auction.”

Cammie raises her chin, then drags in a gulp of air. “There’s no way in hell I’m telling you about my package.” It’s all I can do to not laugh at how cute she is.

“You want my jacket?” I smirk, knowing the shiver wasn’t because she was cold. This tent, with the heaters, is quite toasty.

“Keep your jacket”—her voice softens—“and your hands, to yourself.”

“I don’t need to know about your package. I am pretty sure I have you figured out better than you have me defined.”

The server places the first entrée in front of me as I pick up my fork and knife, then cut into the fancy salad. It looks more like a floral bouquet, complete with pansies. I’ve never understood the point of making food look so ridiculous, but whatever.

Cammie mirrors my actions and raises her fork to her mouth, taking a bite of the crisp greens. She places a hand below her nose, covering the fact she’s probably about to talk with food in her mouth, as if that makes it more acceptable. “Asshole is how I have you defined. Last time I checked, it fit you as perfectly as your suit.”

“So you think my suit fits nicely?” I can’t contain my grin. I didn’t change pants. I left them wet after the cabana fiasco in an effort to keep my cock down.

Nearly choking on her food, Cammie quickly picks up her glass of wine, taking a long swig. That’s the only thing she’s been able to do to catch Oliver’s attention the entire night.

He pats her back like he’s burping a damn infant. “Hell, Cammie, don’t make a scene.”

“Cam?” I clench my fists in my lap. I don’t even realize how tight my jaw is until I hear my teeth starting to grind. “You all right?”

She looks at me and nods. “Just went down the wrong way.” She glances back at Oliver. “So sorry. I’m fine.” She takes another gulp. If she doesn’t eat, she’ll be drunk in no time. I can’t foresee her tiny frame tolerating much.

I open my mouth, but decide to hold my tongue. That is until Oliver completely disregards her yet again. This. Is. Bullshit. I lean into her. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life apologizing for your needs, for your existence? Begging to be seen? To be heard?”

She stiffens.

“Yearning to be touched and handled like the precious gem you are? Because I think—I know—you deserve better than he’s offering you.”

She faces me and snaps a finger over her lips. “Shh.”

“Oh, please. No one can hear us over the band, and after the way he just treated you, he’s lucky I didn’t make a scene handing him his fucking ass on one of those silver platters.”

A small smile spreads over her delectable lips, one I’d been missing tonight, so I savor it for as long as she’s willing to allow me.

“How’s dinner?” Harry asks.

The room is filled with applause, but the only thing I hear is the beating of my heart. The only person I see is her. Slowly, I put my hands together and clap because that’s what’s expected. Except, I’m not clapping at the food. I’m clapping at her, for making me so damn happy right now. She has no clue. Cammie Spencer has no idea that she’s been my happiest thing for as long as I can remember. I’m still clapping, lost in her, feeling like I’ve had ten beers—totally buzzed and euphoric—except, I’ve had nothing to drink. I’m drunk on her. The room grows quiet.

“Can we get the young ladies participating in the Dream Date auction to come to the stage?” Chairs creak. Cammie pushes away from the table, placing her napkin beside her plate. While they are making their way up to the front, it’s my great honor and privilege to introduce this year’s event chair, Georgette Masters.”

Whose idea was it to start the auction while we’re eating?

Terrible fucking timing.

“Thank you, Harry,” my mother says, while adjusting the microphone. “And thanks to all of you for being here. As this year’s chair, I’m so excited to present our first auction, Dream Dates.”

Smiling, I resist the urge to give her a standing ovation just for being her, but also for the chance to win a date with Cammie. This was better than any gift she’s ever given me.

Paying, as Cammie suggested, to sit next to her wasn’t necessary. That was free and easily obtainable. Growing up, it wasn’t an option to be a mama’s boy. It’s not like my father and I had a lot of time to do the whole male bonding ritual. But I refuse to think too much about that son of a bitch.

When I let myself in one day to take Mom to lunch, I overheard her on the phone planning the auction portion of this event. I pulled a pen and scratch sheet of paper from the junk drawer, sat in the chair next to her, and started scribbling.

She smiled and nodded. “What do you think about one called dream dates?” She paused. I had no clue who she was talking to, and I couldn’t make out who the voice on the other line belonged to. “Young adults.” She laughed. “Uh huh. I can’t take credit. Holden’s over here writing me notes with suggestions.”

Really, Mom?

“Yeah, maybe he should be chair next year.”

I shook my head, waving my hands like windshield wipers. My brows furrowed, and I found myself mouthing no. I jotted down my next recommendation.

All club member young adults participate unless married
. I tapped my pen at the paper and nudged her shoulder.

Mom nodded again, but this time mouthed, “Good idea. More participants.” I only cared about one.

“What do you think about all girls ages eighteen to twenty-five participating unless married? That would give us more dates, which means more funds.” But when she put it like that, I did grin back at her, feeling kind of proud to be helping raise money for the cancer ward.

She wrote a note back while listening to whoever she was talking to yap so loudly I could hear her through the phone.
I’m so proud of you, sweetie. Thank you for the ideas. I knew you’d come around to this charity stuff eventually.

Fuck.

Of course she’d think this was my way of being involved. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

“I’m still here,” she said, putting her fingers together like a duck quacking, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I think it’d be best if no one knows who each package belongs to.”

My eyes bulged. I shook my head, but she winked.

“Way more exciting that way.”

Even bigger fuck.

While I don’t mind stacking the deck in my favor, I do have a very big issue with flat out cheating to win. As many stereotypes as Cammie probably has in her mind about who and what I am, a cheater isn’t one of them.

So, I’m sitting here twisting my neck around several times while shrugging my shoulders, with no clue what my mother had been talking about or how long it’s been. All I know is I have to win Cammie’s package. And I don’t even know which one is hers.

The minutes passing feel more like hours when Harry finally takes the microphone from my mother, who could chat the ears off anyone. She winks at me while walking off the stage. If I could, I’d fist pump her right now, but not for the reasons she thinks. No, I’m way more selfish than she gives me credit for. Although, I do love that I’m able to do good while trying to win the heart of the girl whose had mine for as long as I can remember.

“Lovely speech, Georgette. Ladies and gentlemen. The young women participating have all been members of Magnolia Grove for years, some their entire lives. They have a special seniority and tenure. They are your future chairs of this event, so let’s first start by giving them a round of applause.”

Clapping, I am on my feet in an instant, grinning from ear to ear. Several of the girls glance away, blushing. Like the others, Cammie does too. But she can’t hide her eye rolling from me. Or that same classic, fake smile she always has in Oliver’s presence. It’s the same empty one I’ve grown up seeing on so many women of this damn country club. The one I grew up seeing on my own mother’s face until she was finally free from the toxicity that is my sperm donor of a father.

Cammie isn’t the only girl set to marry participating in the auction. Amie Haskins received a proposal several months earlier. Her wedding’s still a year away. When my eyes get to Charity, she’s looking at me, smiling.

Fuck, what if I accidentally bid on her package? I shake my head. It’s not like she needs any false hope that there’s even the slightest chance we’d ever be more than just friends.

Cammie’s eyes haven’t returned to this table since she left it. Instead, they’re fixed on her parents, specifically her mother, Diane. Her doing her best to avoid me isn’t anything new. But her doing her best to avoid Oliver is. I choke back a chuckle. They’ve done a great job protecting her from what they perceived as harm. Even though Diane and my mother are friends, I’m sure Cammie was told to avoid me like the plague for fear I’m like my father. I don’t think the shit he did is genetic and something I can inherit. I don’t want to be anything like the fucker.

In their defense, I did go through that whole rebellious phase. But it’s comical that they think you can keep danger at bay. I guess they figured it’s okay to know some people from a distance. The irony isn’t lost on me that, instead, they’ve sucked at protecting her from the likes of Oliver in the process.

“There’ll be three rounds of three auctions, for a total of nine young women’s dream dates,” Harry says.

Ah. The rules. The moment I’ve been waiting for. Everyone claps except for me. I think it’s fucked up how often people clap at shit like this. Clapping is just delaying everything, and it’s like horses are galloping in my stomach. And, damn, I’m hungry, but I don’t want to eat fucking pansies. Harry is always so patient, but I’m pretty sure he’s internally rolling his eyes. He’s been the emcee for the club events for at least fifteen years. Hell, not just the club. He does every event I’ve attended since he moved here, especially the school ones since his son was in our class.

When the claps die down, he continues. “Each lady submitted their package anonymously via a secure form that assigned a unique identification number specifically for them. The planners only have their entries, no names, so this should be interesting.”

Got to give it to my mother. She knows how to plan an auction, but why did she have to screw me over like this? Even if unintentionally.

The crowd lets out a combination of laughs and gasps, but I rub my hands together, my eyes fixed on Cammie. Looking at her takes everything in me to stay focused on the task at hand, to not visualize through her clothing that soaking wet pussy. I shake my head.
Pay. Attention.
Now is not the time to have my head and my dick in the gutter. No, especially since this next part is important: the instructions. I’ve always been fiercely competitive and losing isn’t an option.

“Each lady has a printed receipt from the form that they will use to claim their date at the end of the auction. Gentlemen, you will bid on the date you’d like to honor. When the bidding closes, please head to the back table, pay, and submit your information. At the end of each round, you will be matched with your date for a dance. Got it?”