Page 24 of Checking Mr. Wrong (Love in Maple Falls #3)

MABEL

I don’t think the ballroom at the Hawk River Lodge has ever looked this good. This isn’t what I expected. Not for a bachelor auction in Maple Falls, of all things. It’s gorgeous.

From where I’m sitting—tucked into the corner at a table near the back with my mother and her book club friends—I’ve got a perfect view of the room.

Twinkling lights are strung across the ceiling like a canopy of stars, casting a warm glow over the crowd.

The tables are draped in crisp white linens, each topped with arrangements of greenery and candles flickering in glass holders.

It’s cozy and elegant, a far cry from the rustic lodge vibe I’m used to seeing here.

There’s a stage at the front of the room, complete with a banner stretched across the back, announcing Maple Falls First Annual Bachelor Auction in looping, slightly uneven calligraphy.

The velvet curtain behind it is forest green, the kind of fabric that catches the light and makes it shimmer, adding to the coziness of the room.

My phone buzzes on the table. I glance down and see Asher’s name.

Are you going to bid on me ?

My head snaps up to the front of the room, where he’s seated at the table reserved for the bachelors. He catches my eye, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. I try to suppress my laugh as I quickly type back.

No.

He’s still watching me. When he sees my response, he raises an eyebrow and places a hand on his chest in mock offense before tapping at his phone again.

Please.

I bite back a grin and type.

Still no.

That’s your favorite word, isn’t it?

Not really.

Still a form of no.

I make a show out of putting my phone down firmly and wave at him, hoping he’ll take the hint.

He doesn’t. Instead, he flashes me the most ridiculously charming smile, one I have absolutely no intention of acknowledging.

Even if his kisses are sweeter than any icing Neesha could ever make, no way.

I don’t even want to think about them, because honestly, they’re starting to make me crazy. Good crazy, but crazy.

“You’ve hardly eaten any of your dinner,” Mom says as she stabs my steak with her fork and takes a bite. “It tastes good to me.”

I tip my chin toward the back of the room where Neesha stands holding court with her sugar. “I’m saving space for dessert. ”

“Honestly,” Mom says, shaking her head. “To be your age again. No worry where the extra pounds will go. Just wait till you hit menopause.”

“Mom.”

“What?” She exchanges a knowing look with one of her book club friends at the table with us. “Suzette, am I lying?”

“Oh, lady.” Suzette levels her gaze on me, as if she was sharing the secret to the pyramids with a trusted friend. “Don’t even get me started on the hot flashes.”

“I use the cooling mat I got for my dog in summer to help with mine,” another lady chimes in. “Even on the hottest nights, I’m feeling great.”

“We need to start a new club, ladies.” There Mom goes, with her big ideas. “In fact, our first meno-meeting can be next week, after Halloween?”

I want a giant hole to suddenly appear so I can roll myself off my chair and inside of it. It needs to be more than six-feet deep. If I’m out of here, I wanna stay buried. “Meno-meeting? How ever will you fit it in with all the other things you do?”

My mother stops in mid-thought, as if she’s considering my words even though they’re laced with sarcasm and sprinkled with cynicism. “No, I can make it work. If there’s one thing I know how to do, that’s run a committee.”

The ladies at the table all murmur agreement, nodding heads and smiling at my mother. Enablers. Another notch in the belt that is my mother.

I pick up my fork, with my mother watching, and poke at my meal as Asher’s voice fills the air.

“Nobody puts baby in a corner,” he says, standing beside the table doing his best Patrick Swayze from Dirty Dancing impression.

“I’m not a baby,” I sing out.

“Good. Cause I need you to bid on me,” he says, nudging my mother in her shoulder like she’s his co-conspirator.

Do I wish I had enough money to bid on him tonight? Part of me thinks yes. I can’t forget those kisses, and the thought of him maybe being grabbed by someone else, whose lips could get the goods, makes me a little weary. Yet, there’s also the other side of things.

As in, I wonder what kind of comedy gold will happen if one of these older Maple Falls mavens wins him. Now that is worth paying the price of admission for.

“Alas, dear Asher,” I say, holding up my “Press” badge. “It’s against ethics.”

He shoots me a look. “We should talk about ethics, then.”

“No, none of that boring talk.” Thankfully my mother decides now is the time to butt in. She hands me her phone. “Honey, take a picture of all of us with Asher, please?”

Gritting my teeth, I do as instructed, lining up the shot while Mom gathers her friends around him like he’s the prize turkey at the county fair. Asher, of course, eats it up, flashing that signature smile and throwing an arm around the shoulders of the two women nearest to him.

“Okay, say cheese!” I mutter, snapping the picture.

Asher steps away from the group, leaning in just close enough so only I can hear him. “You forgot to tell me to say ethics, ” he teases, his voice low and warm. Then, as if this whole evening isn’t ridiculous enough, he glances down at me, winks, and mouths, Bid on me.

Before I can think of a comeback, or maybe a way to wipe that smug grin off his face, he straightens up and saunters off, leaving me standing there, phone still in hand, mouth slightly open.

The lights dim slightly, and the buzz of conversation dies down as Ashlyn, acting as auctioneer, steps to the podium. The bachelor auction has officially begun, and the energy in the room hums with anticipation. Unfortunately, my table is no exception.

“Oh, he’s such a charmer,” my mother gushes, her eyes fixed on the first bachelor being introduced. Her book club friends nod enthusiastically, whispering and giggling like teenagers at a boy-band concert. “Are you going to bid on him?”

“I meant it when I said I couldn't." And I do. “It’s a conflict of interest.” Never mind I made out with one of the bachelors who will take the stage at some point tonight. These are things she doesn’t need to know.

I take a slow sip of my sparkling water, trying to tune them out, but when Suzette leans over and starts speculating on the size of the guy’s biceps, I decide it’s time to bail.

“I’ll be right back,” I mumble, grabbing my clutch. My mother barely notices.

I weave through the crowd, finding sanctuary by the cupcake table at the back of the room where Neesha stands, her arms crossed as she surveys the proceedings with an amused grin.

“Couldn’t handle the thirst-fest?” she asks.

“Not for another second,” I reply, tossing my clutch on her table. “I love my mom, but her friends are a lot.”

Before Neesha can respond, Fiona appears beside us, her face glowing with excitement. She leans in conspiratorially, glancing around like she’s about to deliver state secrets.

“Hey, remember when you texted me the picture of that bird?” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of the auctioneer introducing the next bachelor.

I cast my mind back to Maple Fest, the day I spotted the elusive Blue Rock Thrush myself. “Of course. I mean, I wasn’t sure if it could help, but…”

“Oh, it did,” Fiona says, fighting to keep her voice calm. “I double-checked. It’s still on the endangered list.”

Neesha claps her hands together, her smile widening. “Oh my gosh, you guys, does that mean you might have an answer for this whole MacDonald land-grab situation?”

“I don’t know.” I pause, thinking it through. “I guess we’ll have to get in touch with Washington Fish and Wildlife,” I say slowly. “Find out where it nests, what we’re supposed to do next. ”

“Do you really think we may be able to get some of the land protected?” Fiona asks no one as the three of us grab hands, squeezing tightly as we stifle squeals of excitement.

It’s a quiet but fierce moment of victory, one that feels as sweet as the frosting on one of Neesha’s cupcakes—if not sweeter.

The sudden burst of cheering from the corner draws my attention. A group of young women, decked out in head-to-toe Seattle chic, are hooting and hollering like they’re at a concert.

“Oh, them,” Neesha mutters, following my gaze. She rolls her eyes so hard I’m actually concerned they’ll get stuck. “Just a bunch of girls from Seattle. Total pain in my butt.”

Fiona shakes her head. “Ever since they arrived, they’ve acted like they own the place. They actually scream over everything, even taking selfies. It’s exhausting.”

The group erupts again as the current bachelor on stage flexes his arms. They’re practically falling over each other in a competition to see who can scream the loudest.

I watch them before sighing and turn back to my friends. “Not my monkeys, not my circus. Ladies, I think I’m just going to head?—”

“Next up,” Ashlyn announces, “we have our sugary-sweet Canadian bachelor, Asher Tremblay!”

I freeze mid-sentence as the name echoes through the room. Fiona nudges me with her elbow.

“Oh, pass me some popcorn,” Neesha murmurs, smirking my way.

I turn toward the stage, just in time to see Asher step into the spotlight. His easy smile and confident stride draw a wave of cheers, louder than anything that’s come before. And then, his eyes lock on mine and I hate that it makes my pulse race for all the wrong reasons.

I shake my head, crossing my arms as I try to fight the heat creeping up my neck. Is there a part of me wishing I could bid on him tonight? Yes, there really is, however not on my salary. I’m also still unsure about the return on investment, as well .

“Maybe I don’t want to stick around and watch the man I kissed the other day go out on a date with someone else,” I mutter under my breath.

Fiona’s head whips toward me, her eyebrows shooting up. “Why aren’t you bidding on him?”

“Because I’m not going to bid on a guy,” I reply, exasperated. “Shouldn’t I be the prize here? And anyway, if I brought him home, my mom would probably faint from excitement.”

Neesha and Fiona laugh, but before they can say anything, a familiar voice pierces the air.

“Five thousand dollars!”

I spin toward the sound, horrified to see my mother standing and waving her paddle like she’s at a Sotheby’s auction.

“Oh. My. God,” I whisper, my stomach dropping.

Neesha doubles over in laughter, and Fiona claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. My line of sight connects with Ashlyn, who is staring at me with equal parts horror and laughter as she accepts Mom’s bid. Nice. Very neighborly of you, Ashlyn, I’ll have to return the favor.

“This,” Neesha gasps, “is going to be so good .”

Ashlyn’s voice booms over the microphone. “We’ve got five thousand dollars from Mary-Ellen McCluskey! Do I hear five thousand five hundred?”

A hand shoots up from the corner—there’s a girl sitting at the Seattle table wearing a low-cut gown with more confidence than fabric. “Six thousand!” she calls, her voice dripping with the kind of sugary enthusiasm that makes my teeth hurt.

“Oh no,” I mutter, sinking a little lower where I’m standing.

Neesha is practically wheezing with laughter beside me. “Your mom has competition. Serious competition.”

“Serious and from Seattle,” Fiona adds to the jokey-jokey pile-on. Aren’t they supposed to be on my side?

Mom, undeterred, waves her paddle again. “Seven thousand! ”

“Seven thousand five hundred!” the gown-clad girl counters, leaning forward and practically spilling out of her dress.

“Eight thousand!” Mom’s voice is firm, commanding. She looks like she’s about to march down to the stage and claim Asher herself.

“Why is this happening?” I whisper, covering my face with my hands.

Fiona pats my arm in mock sympathy. “Oh, Mabel, you know why. This is a mother’s love. She sees something shiny and she’s going to get it for her baby. No matter what it takes.”

“That ‘shiny thing’ is a grown man,” I say with a groan.

“Eight thousand five hundred!” another voice shouts, coming from the back of the room.

The crowd gasps, heads swiveling to find the new bidder. I peek through my fingers and catch a glimpse of a guy in a cowboy hat, his wife standing beside him, jumping up and down. “You’re my wife’s favorite player!”

“Okay, now this is getting ridiculous,” I mutter as my mother’s head almost spins off her neck.

“Nine thousand!”

“Nine thousand two hundred and fifty!”

“Nine thousand five hundred!”

“Ten thousand,” the man’s wife screams, snatching the paddle out of his hand.

“This is hilarious . ” Neesha can barely contain herself. “I’ve never seen your mom this determined. She’s like a heat-seeking missile.”

As if to prove her point, Mom steps up her game. She climbs onto her chair, paddle held high, her face flushed with determination.

“Eleven thousand dollars!” she screams, loud enough to silence the room.

Ashlyn blinks, clearly stunned. “Eleven thousand dollars? Are you sure, Mary-Ellen? ”

“Positive,” she says, waving her paddle at the couple. “Are you going to counter?”

The man’s hand starts to go up, but his wife shakes her head.

Not done yet, Mom turns and gives a Medusa-like death glare to the table of Seattle’s finest. “And you? Does anyone want to step up?”

That’s it. Fiona’s almost on the floor. “Your mom said step up ?” she manages to eke out between gulps of air and bursts of laughter. “This town is the best. I want to move here forever.”

When the other bidder shakes her head, Mom holds her arms in the air triumphant.

“Sold!” Ashlyn cries out. “To Mary-Ellen McCluskey.”

“Yes!” she screams from her pedestal. “I’m bringing you home with me!”

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause. Fiona is laughing so hard she’s wiping tears from her eyes. “She’s unstoppable! Mabel, you’re doomed.”

Me? I feel like my soul has left my body. “I’m changing my name and moving to another country. Don’t try to stop me.”

Neesha grins, elbowing me. “Oh, come on. You know this is going to be legendary. People around here will be talking about this for years to come.”

“You’ll laugh about it,” Fiona tries to help. “Someday.”

“Today is not that day,” I reply flatly.

Asher, still on stage, looks like he’s holding back a laugh. His eyes meet mine again, and he gives me a little shrug.

I let out a breath and cover my face with my hands. This is officially the most embarrassing day of my life.