I can’t.” Bridget’s voice was low and flat.
Tiffany chuckled. “I swear, if I had the money and didn’t have a job, I’d bet just for the heck of it.”
“If you think for one minute that just because I don’t have a job, I’d—”
“Hey, I was just teasing. Of course, you can’t bid, and you wouldn’t if you could. Daddy might ground you or something.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t. But I’m not worried about Daddy,” Bridget lied.
“Still, it would be fun.”
“No way. You might actually win!” Bridget said in a churlish tone. “Anyway, what happens when they bid and win one of these men?”
Tiffany shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. I figure they’ll strike up an acquaintance and go from there.”
“Which is where?”
“To the altar, then the mattress,” Tiffany said, giggling. “But not necessarily in that order.”
“That’s disgusting!”
“Only to you, friend. After all, that’s the purpose of this auction. These men need to find mates, someone who’ll work side by side with them in this part of the country.”
“Well, I wish them all the luck in the world.”
“Ken, here, my friends, has been bought for eight hundred dollars by this lucky young lady,” the auctioneer droned.
Because she and Tiffany had been talking, they had missed seeing who bid on the first man and won him.
“Hey, Number Two’s about to make his way on stage.” He did, and Tiffany groaned. “I’ll have to pass.”
Bridget rolled her eyes, only to feel shock at the number of women who bid on the second man, who was anything but handsome. He obviously came from the shallow end of the gene pool, but to her surprise he was sold for five hundred and fifty dollars.
The next dozen men passed in a whirl before Bridget’s eyes. She was only called back to the moment by Tiffany’s gasp.
“All right!” Tiffany cried. “Now he’s more like it. Talk about stud material.”
“God, Tiff, try to control yourself,” Bridget muttered as her eyes migrated to the stage and settled on the man who was standing front and center. And looking at her.
Bridget gulped as their eyes met, feeling for the first time in her life as if she’d been hit with a stun gun. She wanted to move, to turn away, to scream if it would break the contact with this man.
It wasn’t that he was all that good-looking. He wasn’t. And while there was something about his tanned, uneven features and rock-hard body that was attractive, it was his green eyes and the way he looked at her that sent her senses into a tailspin.
No man, certainly not Hamilton, had ever appraised her in such a way, a way that was both exciting and frightening. Why on earth would this man be on an auction block? she asked herself, before giving in to the disgust that flooded through her.
What did she care? She had no intention of taking part in any of this crazy mess.
Then his eyes roamed over her.
“Do I hear a bid for Mr. Jeremiah Davis, ladies?”
As if her body had severed itself from her head, Bridget stood up and her mouth opened. “One thousand dollars!”
“Going once, going twice,” the auctioneer chanted, then pounded the gavel on the podium and shouted, “Sold! To the redheaded lady in the front row.”
The crowd cheered and clapped at the same time Tiffany locked her fingers around Bridget’s forearm and jerked her down to her seat.
“Have you lost your mind?”
At first Tiffany’s screeching didn’t penetrate the fog that surrounded Bridget’s brain. In fact, she felt as if her entire body was encased in cement. Yet somehow she was able to pull her eyes off the man who was in the process of receiving a congratulatory slap on the back from the auctioneer.
“Do you know what you just did?” Tiffany screeched, though for Bridget’s ears alone.
Bridget tried mentally to reach the heart that had dropped to somewhere around her toes, yank it in place and respond like the sane human being she knew herself to be. But she couldn’t, even if everyone close by was giving them the once-over. Her tongue wouldn’t move.
“I can’t believe it!” Tiffany’s eyes were wild as she stared at Bridget as though she was a stranger.
Still dazed, Bridget shook her head, then stared at her friend. “Did…did I just do what I think I just did?”
“Damn straight you did, you little idiot.”
Bridget grabbed her stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“It’d serve you right,” Tiffany said, a twinkle settling into her eyes.
“You think this is funny?”
“Sure do, honey, especially after all that posturing in Houston. ‘No way will I waste plane fare to this hick town, much less take part in any bidding.’ Now what happens? You open your big mouth and insert your little foot!”
Bridget wailed, “What am I going to do?”
Tiffany grinned. “Well, friend, all I can say is that you’ve got your butt in a wringer. If it’s any consolation, he’s the best of the lot…by a long shot!”
“Don’t torment me, please.”
Tiffany erupted into laughter. “Me torment you? I think it’s the other way around. You’re the one who plopped down a cool thousand simoleons for the man.”
Bridget had never felt so foolish in her entire life. She couldn’t remember feeling like this even as a teenager, when she’d first discovered boys and giggled with her friends about them. Well, what was done, was done and while she couldn’t undo it, she could fix it. Or at least, she hoped she could.
“What next?” Tiffany asked.
“Where is he?”
“By he do you mean your hunk, Mr. Jeremiah Davis?”
Bridget glared at Tiffany. “He’s not my hunk. And yes, I mean him.”
“Well, at the moment,” Tiff drawled, “he’s shooting the breeze with the other fellows offstage.”
“Is he looking at me?”
