Her Christmas Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #5) - Jessica Clare Page 0,105

you.”

Hank just looked as if he was trying not to laugh.

Jack was pretty sure that the odds of any local angel showing up to this Valentine’s auction were pretty slim. Or his angel would be gray-haired and old enough to be his nana, not his date.

Now that he was thinking about it, maybe he shouldn’t have shaved. Jack rubbed his naked jaw again. Charity, he reminded himself. This is for charity and for your sister-in-law and for Amy. You aren’t doing it because you’re expecting to score.

It’s charity. Nothing more.

* * *

* * *

I can’t believe you brought your crochet to the auction,” Amy hissed at Layla as they sat at the numbered table.

“Believe it, sister.” Layla hooked another loop in the scarf she was making and shrugged. “Mrs. Kilpatrick brought hers.”

“She’s ninety.”

“So? She’s still here to buy a bachelor. Like me.”

“Yes, but . . .” Amy protested, and then sighed. “It just seems weird, that’s all.”

“The weirder it is, the more I like it.” Layla did a few more loops, concentrating on her project. In a way, it helped her calm down. She was incredibly nervous—and sweaty—at the thought of having to bid on a guy at the auction today. She knew she was the backup plan and hopefully it wouldn’t be necessary. Maybe several ladies looking for love would show up with fat wallets and make this charity shindig a success.

Layla had her suspicions, though.

For one, the room wasn’t more than half full. The Painted Barrel Animal Helpers Committee had decorated the gymnasium at the high school in all manner of construction paper hearts and pink garlands. There were pink and red flowers at every round table, and white tablecloths to add a touch of romance. There was a volunteer DJ (who looked like he was fourteen) putting on romantic music, and pink balloons filled the room. Each table had cute stationery and glitter stamps so you could write a love note for your valentine. There were heart-shaped cookies with bright red frosting and Layla had already eaten two of them. It was all really cute.

Problem was, no one was there.

Oh sure, the elderly bingo-hall folks had shown up, but they hadn’t quite come in the numbers that Amy and Becca had expected. Maybe word hadn’t gotten out. Maybe there was a football game on. Maybe people were wanting to do other things with their Valentine’s Day than bid on a bachelor, but whatever the reason, the situation was looking pretty grim.

Layla hooked faster, her hands sweaty and nervous. “So how many bachelors did you end up with?”

Amy looked miserable. “Eleven. We had another last-minute drop. Turned out his girlfriend lost her dentures and didn’t want to come out in public without them. Not that I blame her, but it just means less money for the charity.” She twisted her hands in her lap.

“We could both buy a bachelor,” Layla suggested. “I can spot you the money.”

“I think we have bidders for the others,” Amy said, her gaze roaming the curtained stage like the most impatient stage mom ever. “But if we don’t hit our goal, I might have to take you up on that.”

Layla glanced around. “Where’s Becca?”

“She’s coordinating props and making sure they’re all fed.”

Do . . . what? Layla wasn’t entirely sure she’d heard that right and meant to ask, but a woman with a steely gray beehive and an absolutely glittering dress pushed her walker up to their table and sat down. She smiled at them. “Hello, girls.”

“Oh man, I love your dress,” Layla told her sincerely. “Were we supposed to dress up?” She glanced down at her worn black cardigan over a gaming T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was in her usual bun and she wasn’t wearing makeup other than a slick of tinted lip gloss. Maybe she should have dressed up, but she was trying to throw a vibe into the universe: if she didn’t look like a hot piece, she wouldn’t need to win a man at auction.

“Honey, when you’re my age, you take any excuse to put on fancy clothes.” The woman chuckled. “I’m Cora.”

“Layla,” she said, offering her hand. “This is Amy.”

Amy beamed at her. “Thank you for coming, Cora. Do you have your eye on anyone in particular?”

“All of them,” Cora said with a sassy wink, and Layla decided she wanted to be Cora when she grew up. She patted her little spangly coin purse. “I’m going to bid on all of the bachelors because no one should