Page 8 of Love Songs (Harmony Lake #3)

BY THE TIME I got to Lucy’s Pub and pulled the tuxedo out of the back of my truck, I was still cranky. I couldn’t believe Dallas Blade had the nerve to argue with me about his cell phone causing the fire, and then demanding I replace the damn thing.

He’d come at me like a pissed off bull, not backing down, and I had to give him props for that.

I know I can be an imposing force, seeing as I’m six-foot-four and one-ninety-five of well-earned muscle.

But I would never hurt a fly. I might raise my voice in the heat of the moment, but I took my frustrations out mountain biking the most extreme trails I could find or jumping out of airplanes or whitewater kayaking.

Anything that demanded one hundred percent of my physical and mental focus.

But that grudging respect, not to mention attraction for him, irritated me more.

I huffed out a cleansing breath of air and wiped the whole thing from my mind. The Founders Day music fest was over, and I’d never see Dallas again. He could go back to being an abstract fantasy in my mind.

My phone pinged, and I checked it to see several messages in the group chat with my lifelong best friends.

They’d all left the fair early and were too comfortable to venture back out, so none of them would be here for the auction.

Part of me was disappointed, because that was exactly what I worried would happen when they all found their significant others. I’d be the odd man out.

But on the other hand, they’d be teasing me relentlessly if they were here, so it was better that they weren’t.

I opened the chat thread to find a whole slew of jokes about me in a penguin suit and them putting bets on whether I would get the highest bid, or if Chris—Ryan’s sister Rebecca’s boyfriend—would rate as the most eligible bachelor in Caldwell Crossing.

Though why Chris was in the auction at all, I didn’t know.

He and Rebecca were a ring away from married.

I leaned against my truck as I typed out a reply to the guys.

Me: Ha-ha , losers. Add me to the pool. On me for the win, obvs .

Sam : The odds are five-to-one .

Me: Five?

Haider: Yeah. Rebecca and Chris both bet against you.

Ryan: *crying-laughing face emoji*

Me: Whatever. I’m taking those odds .

Sam: It’s your money .

I laughed. Chris might be a sheriff’s deputy, but I was a lieutenant firefighter. And I was eligible, although not for the town’s single women. Sorry, ladies. I wondered what my chances of there being a single gay man in the audience were.

I texted back: Nope. It’s going to be YOUR money .

The texts that followed delved into a collection of laughing emojis, silly gifs, and good-natured smack talk.

Grinning, I tucked my phone back into my pocket as I crossed the street.

Nothing like a side bet with the guys to make the night more fun.

I’d win too, because March was the most popular month in the Annual Firefighter’s Calendar, featuring yours truly in my turnout pants, suspenders, and no shirt.

There was a sandwich board outside Lucy’s on the sidewalk, announcing the charity bachelor auction, including photos of us fools who’d volunteered or had been voluntold.

Underneath was a cartoon cat, dog, and bird for the Harmony Lake Animal Rescue League, the charity tonight’s fundraiser was for.

I shook my head for the millionth time, wondering why I’d let tiny Mamie Aubert strong-arm me into this.

But then, one didn’t say no to Mamie. Plus, I loved animals.

I stepped into a packed house at Lucy’s, but considering how small the pub was to begin with, filling it to capacity wasn’t much of a feat.

They’d set up a makeshift stage along the far wall by moving some tables and chairs out of the way.

Gold and white streamers and banners hung from the ceiling, and another placard sat at the foot of the stage with the bachelor order—I was going up last. Under each bachelor’s name was a brief description of the date and when.

At least I didn’t have to plan what my winning bidder’s date was going to be, especially since I didn’t date. I wouldn’t have any idea what do to.

Mrs. Jennings from the community center and Mamie had set up a card table at the front entrance, and were checking people in and selling tickets, because Lucy deserved some extra cash for hosting the event, too.

Mamie’s bright eyes lit up behind her trendy square glasses when she saw me.

“Conor, darling,” she cooed. My name always sounded like Con-air in her French accent and made me smile. “I’m so happy you volunteered for this. You’re going to bring in so much money for the rescue.”

Volunteered . I snorted, but I wasn’t about to argue with Mamie. Nope. Not me. She might be a petite silver-haired seventy-year-old, but she was feisty as all get out. One did not get on Mamie’s bad side if they knew what was good for them.

“Indeed,” Mrs. Jennings agreed, giving me a once-over. She wasn’t as petite as Mamie, but she was just as feisty, with natural red hair to boot. “The rescue will be able to afford their expansion to help more animals.”

I laughed, because what else could I do? When these two ladies were in charge, we were all at their mercy. They were right, though. The rescue league could use all the help it could get.

“Just doing my civic duty, ma’am,” I said, flashing my flirtiest grin.

“Oh, you,” Mamie fluttered a dainty hand at me.

With a wink, I made my way into the bar and spotted a few of my fellow bachelors downing some liquid courage, including Chris and Rebecca. I could use a cold beer right about now, too, and I had a bone to pick with those two.

“So,” I said as I wedged between the barstools to stand beside Chris. “I hear you two are betting against me for the highest bid tonight. And uh, how is it you’re an eligible bachelor at all?”

Chris held up his hands, a half empty beer bottle in one. “It wasn’t my idea.”

Rebecca harrumphed. Her eyes, the same warm brown as Ryan’s, narrowed. “According to Mamie, unless he’s legally married, he’s eligible. And I’m not allowed to bid.”

I burst out laughing as Lucy’s niece, Grace, who was bartending tonight, handed me a cold Gansett.

“On the house,” she said with a wink as I reached for my wallet.

I raised my bottle with a thanks, then tapped a cheers with Chris and settled in shooting the shit with our fellow bachelors.

Mamie came over a short while later and clapped her hands, drawing our attention.

“Okay, boys,” she said. “The auction is about to start. Time to go and get dressed in your finery.”

Ugh . I hated wearing a suit. I always felt so claustrophobic all buttoned up, but this was for a good cause, and I loved giving back to the community.

Which was why I’d also been posing for the annual firefighter calendar every year since I’d joined the department.

Not to mention, I got a kick out of people’s reactions when they saw each year’s photo.

A few minutes later, I was all dressed up and gathered in the corner by the stage with the rest of my bachelor brethren.

I spent a lot of time sitting in the wings waiting to be auctioned, but the audience kept me thoroughly entertained.

Bidding was fast and furious, and so far, everyone had gone over a hundred dollars.

If we kept this up, we were going to have a nice donation for the rescue by the end of the night.

Sam, Ryan, and Haider kept messaging me to see who was getting what, cracking jokes, and placing side bets on who I’d be bringing to the Stonebridge Maple Farm, where my date was going to be.

They were tied between Harriet Thompson, the town librarian who was also Ben Marshall’s great aunt, and who was always giving me the eye, and Margret Madison, who always had some sort of “emergency” she needed the fire department for.

Chris was up next, and I was a little surprised by the wild bidding.

Especially since he wasn’t technically single, and the town knew that.

Less than a minute had passed before the high bid hit two hundred dollars.

And it was still climbing. When Mary, Lucy’s wife—as well as the pub’s cook and tonight’s emcee and auctioneer—called the last bid, Chris had set the bar high for me. He stepped off the stage, grinning.

“Top that, Holliston,” he dared.

“Count on it,” I shot back with a laugh.

I pulled out my phone to send a quick message to the guys.

Me: Ryan . Your soon to be brother-in-law just went for $325 . To Lindsey James .

Ryan: *shocked face emoji* *crying-laughing face emoji*

Haider: Betcha Rebecca will stake out their date.

Sam: Right? Lindsey’s been after Chris since high school.

Ryan: Remind me to hide till it’s over.

I could see Rebecca doing just that. She and Lindsey had a rivalry going for as long as I could remember over Chris, but he only had eyes for Rebecca.

Mary called my name. Showtime.

I pocketed my phone and hopped up onto the tiny stage like a boxer entering the ring, making a big show of it and earning catcalls and wolf whistles.

No way was Chris going to beat me for the highest bid.

I glanced around at the crowd while Mary did her bachelor introduction spiel, and my gaze snagged on a familiar face at the back of the room.

What. The. Fu . . .

He’d hidden his long hair under a baseball hat, but there was no mistaking Dallas Blade standing not twenty feet away from me.

Beside him, also wearing a ball cap, was his guitarist Kirk.

Apparently, the townsfolk hadn’t received the memo yet, because they didn’t pay the rock gods in their midst any attention.

I glared at him, and he tipped his hat at me while Kirk flashed a mischievous grin my way.

Apprehension rushed through my veins at that grin. I tried to ignore them as Mary called out the opening bid of twenty-five dollars, because we’re a small town and the auction was for fun as much as for charity.

Harriet and Margret bid me up to a hundred dollars right off the bat, and then Jackson bid one-fifty. I gave him a side eye. Jackson was as straight as they came, but he was a good guy and would probably tell me to take one of the shelter dogs out for a playdate at the Harmony Lake dog park.

The bidding stalled at two-fifty, and my mind swirled. That’s all ?

“Going once,” Mary called. “Going twice . . .”

Dammit. Chris is going to beat me .

I would never hear the end of it, so I rallied, of course.

In a last-ditch effort, I put on the flirtiest expression I had in my arsenal, made direct eye contact with everyone I could—except for Dallas and Kirk—and struck a pose that best showed off my assets.

I had to beat Chris. Nothing else mattered at that moment.

“Three hundred and fifty,” a male voice that did funny things to my insides called.

Please tell me I didn’t hear that right .

I glared at Dallas, who smiled back at me somewhat apologetically. Yep . That happened. And damn it all, that smile threatened to short-circuit my brain like his voice had when we’d first talked on the phone.

But I’d just drawn the highest bid of the night.

Ha! Take that, Chris .

I grinned and preened, making a show of it because I was now officially the highest bid of the whole auction. The audience cheered and whistled, and I shot Chris a smug look over my shoulder. He raised his beer bottle in salute.

“Three-fifty going once,” Mary called out, laughter in her voice. “Three-fifty going twice. Three-fifty going . . . And—”

“Five hundred,” Kirk shouted.

What the . . .?

Kirk, standing there sporting a mischievous grin bigger than the Cheshire Cat’s, winked at me, while Dallas stood staring at him with his eyes wide and jaw dropped to his chest. Seeming to gather himself, Dallas turned to me and held my gaze. His eyebrows lowered and his lips pursed.

“Seven hundred,” Dallas countered, his voice firm.

The breath caught in my throat, and the crowd gasped.

“One thousand,” Kirk called in rapid response.

I didn’t know what those two were up to, but Kirk looked like he was having the time of his life, and Dallas watched me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t seem unhappy, either. More like, determined?

“Fifteen hundred,” Dallas shot back, his balance rocked by what I guessed was Kirk’s elbow in his side.

I took back any woe-is-me complaining I’d done earlier. I was one hundred percent relieved the guys weren’t here to see this. They’d be having a field day heckling and teasing me about two members of the Dallas Blade Band in a bidding war for me. I would never hear the end of it as it was.

The pub fell dead silent while everyone stared at the two madmen and then murmurs rippled through the crowd, and Dallas and Kirk’s names drifted up to my ears. Some voices were in awe of the bidding, and others were in awe at finally realizing who they were rubbing shoulders with.

The two of them went back and forth while the audience watched them with rapt attention.

“Twenty-five hundred!” Dallas shouted, followed by a short cough.

I narrowed my eyes at him as the crowd’s cheers and whistles erupted to ear-splitting decibels. Dallas was staring at Kirk in a way that reminded me of the way he’d come at me after the fire. Kirk raised his hands in surrender, but his expression never changed from one of mirth and mischief.

Mary called out the current bid three times, pausing for any takers, which would have blown me away if anyone countered.

“Sold for two thousand and five hundred dollars!” Mary shouted into the mic and did a little dance jig on the spot. “Congratulations to . . .” She paused, staring into the crowd for a second before her eyes widened. She gasped. “Dallas Blade!”

Holy crap .

Twenty-five hundred? For me ? That was ridiculous.

The guys were going to shit when they heard about this.

I stepped off the stage in a bit of a daze.

Dallas Blade was in Lucy’s Pub.

Dallas Blade won the bidding for me.

I was going on a date with Dallas. Blade .

My phone was buzzing away in my back pocket like an angry hornet’s nest. I pulled it out and looked at the screen, my hands shaking. I shook my head at the good ole small town gossip train. Rebecca had been messaging Ryan the play-by-play, and Ryan had been updating our group chat.

The guys had been rapid-firing hilarious comments, but Haider’s last comment had me busting out in stitches. No matter how many times we told him you can’t call dibs on people, he remained undeterred.

Haider: I can still call dibs on that, right ?