Page 92 of The Accidental Innkeeper

Becca laughed. “I thought I was going to miss the first one.”

“Nope,” I said, handing the bottle back. “You’re right on time. We’re about to auction off human beings for charity.”

As if summoned by my words, Helen stepped onto the platform, microphone in hand, posture immaculate, and white blazer still aggressively shapeless. She waited until the noise dipped just enough to be dramatic.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she paused, peering out at the crowd, “no, I mean bachelors,” she corrected with a smile.

The front rows erupted, actual cheering and whistles. One woman shouted, “Finally!”

Helen waited it out like a seasoned professional and then continued, “Welcome to another Pearls & Pints Bachelor Weekend.”

Applause rolled across the lawn.

Yes, part of me found this appalling, but the other part, the winning part, thought this was absolutely fantastic.

As the applause swelled, Becca’s smile faltered.

She stared past the stage, her eyes narrowing on someone in the crowd. I followed her gaze to a man near the edge of the lawn. Before I could ask her about him, she quickly turned away, plastering a smile on her face like nothing had happened.

Huh.

“As you all know,” Helen went on, “the proceeds from this year’s event will go toward the restoration of the lighthouse, harbor maintenance, and the Maplewood Falls Scholarship Fund. Your money, ladies, is going to a very good cause.”

That did it. The applause doubled. Cards waved in the air.

Someone yelled, “Take it all!”

Helen smiled, satisfied. “So,” she said, lifting her hand, “let the auction begin.” She gestured to the left side of the stage. “Please welcome our first bachelor of the day. This is Mark.”

Mark stepped forward.

The reaction was immediate.

He was mid-forties, tall, broad-shouldered in an effortless way, with sun-warmed skin and sandy blond hair that suggested he spent more time outdoors than in front of mirrors. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show forearms that absolutely did not belong to a man who spent all his time behind a desk. He smiled easily, like he’d been born knowing how to do that without looking smug.

Several women inhaled at once. I snorted into my coffee.

“Mark is a lawyer,” Helen announced, “and when he’s not working, he enjoys sailing on his boat just off the coast. Which means today’s winning bid includes a private sail for two.”

The crowd lost its freaking mind.

Cards shot up. Women leaned forward. Jewelry clinked. One woman fanned herself aggressively, smacking her neighbor in the face repeatedly.

Helen lifted her hand. “We’ll start the bidding at five hundred dollars.”

I raised a brow. “That seems like a lot.”

Becca shook her head. “Not for these ladies.”

“Six hundred!” called a voice from the front.

“Eight!” yelled another.

“One thousand!”

I blinked. “That escalated quickly.”

Becca grinned. “Sexy lawyer man with a boat.”