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“Next up, we have Dr. Elias Russell. Dr. Russell is a thirty-four-year-old pediatric heart surgeon who stands six foot two. He is a foodie who loves cooking, reading, mountain biking, and, oh, this is surprising, antiquing. He’s looking for someone who is adventurous, kind, and independent.”
Leo didn’t even mention Elias’s best qualities, which were his dimples, physique, and tattoos. He was catnip for women.
“Let’s start the bidding at one hundred dollars!”
The bidding quickly rose before the final bid came in at twenty-one hundred dollars. It didn’t surprise me that he’d gone for the highest amount. I was glad that I wasn’t immediately following him.
As Elias headed backstage, I slapped Dawson on his shoulder. “Good luck.”
He grinned at me and shook his head.
“Next up, we have Jack Dawson the sixth. The Dawson men carried that name long before Leonardo DiCaprio made it famous in the movieTitanic. Jack stands at an impressive six foot five inches tall. He is a Firefly Island firefighter who some of you might recognize as Mr. March from last year’s bestselling FIF calendar. Jack’s downtime is spent playing online poker, hanging out with friends, gardening, working on home renovations, and volunteering at the local animal shelter. Jack needs someone who isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty and likes to be active.”
“I’ll be active with you!” someone shouted from the crowd.
Beside me, Lorraine’s hand touched her earpiece. “We’ve got a heckler at table four. Let’s keep an eye on her.”
“We’re starting the bidding at one hundred dollars.”
Jack ended up going for a respectable nineteen hundred dollars.
As I stood on the edge of the stage, my palms grew damp, and my heart was beating a little faster in my chest. The crowd was cheering as Jack headed back. I started to walk out, but Lorraine stopped me as she leaned over to say something to me, which I didn’t hear.
“What?” I asked as Leo announced my name.
“Your mask! Take off your mask!” she said louder.
Oh shit. I’d totally forgotten I’d had it on. I pulled it off and handed it to Dawson as we passed each other. The spotlight found me within two steps, and the crowd cheered as I made my way to center stage. I scanned the middle section of the room where Daphne was seated with her aunt, but my visibility was shit, thanks to the beam of light blinding me.
“Harlan Mitchell stands six foot four inches tall. He played division one baseball at Auburn University before being drafted by the Waves, where he spent two years in the minors before finally getting called up to the big leagues. His career was just getting started when he suffered a career-ending injury. But Harlan didn’t let that get him down!”
The crowd erupted with cheers at Leo’s announcement, which surprised me until I turned and saw that on the screen they’d put up photos from my last calendar shoot.
Growing up, I’d always thought I was going to have baseball cards with my name on them. Not a calendar where I was half naked that accounted for about thirty percent of the farm’s annual income. I never thought I’d have a workout program that would become a vacation destination. I also never thought I’d be solely responsible for the farm.
People assumed I was rich just because I played professional baseball for a year; that was not the case. It was my rookie year, and I didn’t have anything guaranteed. I’d already sunk all my savings into the farm, and now I was surviving solely on the revenue the classes and calendar brought in.
“Harlan is the creator of a boutique bootcamp class called Farm Strong. He loves family, his farm, and fitness. He is ready to settle down and start a family, which means ladies, if he likes it, he’ll put a ring on it. Let’s start the bidding at one hundred dollars!”
Multiple paddles went up. I couldn’t see who the paddles belonged to, just the flash of them as they lifted and then dropped.
“Do we have two hundred?”
Again, the room was scattered with paddles.
“Do we have five hundred?”
At that point, it appeared even more paddles went up. Which made no sense. Logic dictates the higher the bid, the fewer paddles in the air.
“One thousand,” a woman’s voice in the far back corner sounded. I didn’t recognize it and squinted, trying to see through the darkened space, but was unable to make out any features. She was just a shadowy figure.
“One thousand going once, going twice?—”
“Fifteen hundred!” Maxine Flanders slurred.
I couldn’t see her, but I’d recognize her voice anywhere. She’d started taking Farm Strong classes about three months ago, right after she walked in on her husband and her sister in bed together.
“Two thousand,” the woman in the back corner countered.
