A Good Time Was Had By All

The bidding came to a standstill at fifteen hundred. Not exactly a princely sum, but a decent bit of money for a place like Apple Creek.

Like everyone else, Carl’s attention was focused on the raised gavel of the auctioneer. In a few short seconds he would become the temporary property of a literal stranger. Unless, of course, she happened to be one of dozens of women he’d met since moving to town. Among those were more than a few ladies who worried him. Charity or no, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be at someone’s beck and call.

So caught up was he in his thoughts, he failed to notice a lone female figure rise above the sea of hair spray. If he’d been paying attention, if his blinded eyes could have seen farther than ten feet away, he would’ve known exactly who she was.

*(*)*

"Fifty thousand dollars!"

The bottom fell out of the crowd. Except for the collective gasp, nothing was said as soon as the words crossed Rachel’s lips. Even the annoying music ground to a halt

She didn’t squirm under the immediate and intense scrutiny. In truth, she didn’t notice her surroundings. She kept her eyes on the stage, the gavel and Carl. In any other circumstance his face would be comical. Right now, she didn’t feel like joking.

"Are you sure?"

Was she sure? No, not really. Fifty thousand was not an amount to toss around lightly. Not even for Rachel Davis Cory. She could have easily said two thousand; no one in the room would have gone higher.

But through the butterflies and knocking knees, she’d jumped onto the nearest chair—she wanted to be seen after all—and firmly announced the first dollar amount that sprang to mind. Fifty. Thousand. Dollars.

The auctioneer was still looking at her with questioning awe. In answer, Rachel merely raised her chin a little higher and prayed she looked like she knew what she was doing.

"Looks like she knows what she wants everybody! Any other bids?" the auctioneer asked needlessly. "I didn’t think so. All right then. Going! Going! Gone, for fifty thousand dollars!"

At the sound of the gavel smacking wood, the crowd went wild. Rachel sighed in relief. Why, she had no idea. She’d just spent more than most people, a lot of people, make in a year!

"Come on up and greet your man," the smiling auctioneer instructed. "I just hope he’s worth it!"

Encouraging hands pulled her from her perch and pushed her forward. Would he be worth it? Of that Rachel didn’t know. A thousand questions swirled through her mind only to fade away as she neared the stage. She froze as their eyes met. An emotion she couldn’t pin down flickered across his face.

"Well, go on," someone urged.

Rachel stood still, her legs like stone. What had she been thinking? Why had she done something so impetuous? More importantly, what was she going to do with him now?

*(*)*

The outrageous bid knocked Carl for a loop, leaving him all sixes and sevens. Two thousand he’d anticipated, welcomed, but fifty?

In vain he tried to find the benefactor. He heard someone ask her if she was sure, but no answer in return. Ah, she was a bold one indeed. At the least he’d expected a flippant remark, maybe even a declaration the bid had been a joke. How many women in Apple Creek had that much money to throw around?

The audience flared to life as the gavel came ringing down. He was now a bought man. The absurd idea brought forth a smile. Imagine, Carl Hutchins, bachelor at large, a viable commodity. The fifty thousand dollar bachelor. He would have to show his date a good time. She deserved it.

Just then, he came eye to eye with the Miss Moneybags the others were making a fuss over. Light eyes collided with his and his smile nearly disappeared. How could this be?

His smile faltered somewhat but didn’t disappear. At this point he refused to let this room full of people witness the swell of emotion inside him. Love. Fear. Happiness. Anger. He desperately wanted to be angry with her. She was in his home, his sanctuary. He’d left her with Bay City and taken this small town for his home. She’d left him no choice after the official orders. It was as though the promising events in the elevator had never taken place.

Now they stood, him on the stage and her just below. Around them the others chanted "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" If it was a show they wanted….

He held out his hand to her. Someone nudged her forward until she was forced to walk up the steps and face him. Up close, her clear, shining eyes entranced him anew. Dear god, but she was beautiful.

Carl raised a hand and cupped the side of her face. With a tender touch, he let his thumb brush across her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed.

"Carl," she whispered so low even he could barely hear. Oh, what her voice did to him!

With a sureness he’d nearly forgotten, his hand found its way to the back of her neck. Eyes still closed, her face tilted upwards, the soft lips he remembered so well parted in anticipation. He couldn’t resist.

*(-)*

Any misgivings she might have had melted at this touch. For nothing, absolutely nothing, in the known universe was like kissing Carl.

As his lips moved against her own, Rachel’s arms slipped up to wind themselves around his neck. She pressed herself against his body as his free hand moved to the small of her back. Rachel never wanted the kiss, the touch of his body, to end.

Finally, they were forced to part. Rachel gasped for breath in an effort to calm her jangled nerves. The magic was still there. Looking into his now black eyes she could see he was feeling the same. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake.