One Night with her Bachelor(24)
“A wild card. What’s that mean?”
“Uh…” How to explain it? “It’s a gambling term. It means a card that can be whatever you want it to be.”
“So, like, whoever buys him can get him to do anything?”
“Anything within reason.”
“What would you have him do?”
“Clean your room,” she said without hesitation. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grin. “Though, considering the state of it, that’s probably unreasonable.”
“Next up, ladies and dwindling number of gentlemen,” Buck said, “we have Marietta’s very own hero. The man who risked life and limb to bring our Josh back home alive.”
Molly clenched her hands in her lap to stop the tremor running through them. It was just the mention of bringing Josh home alive, not the fact that Gabriel was coming down the stairs, walking a little stiffly, and keeping his attention on the steps in front of him, never acknowledging the crowd around him. He looked like a wicked mountain man—focused, determined, and so, so sexy.
“Let’s start the bidding at a hundred, a hundred, a hundred, a hundred there. Gimme fifty, one fifty, one fifty, one fifty, one fifty there…”
As Buck prattled on, Molly couldn’t tear her eyes away from Gabriel. So far he’d just stood there, looking out over the screaming crowd as if he weren’t really here.
“Mom, what’s wrong with Gabriel? He looks really shy, and I know he’s not.”
But Molly knew Gabriel better than her son did. She’d seen the boy he’d been and heard how the town had spoken about his family. Being on display like this had to be killing him. “He’ll be okay. He’s just not used to being around all these people.”
Josh fidgeted next to her, and she realized he was miming dancing. “What are you doing?”
“He needs to loosen up.” Josh wiggled his shoulders and did the white-man’s overbite. Poor kid had inherited his father’s dance moves.
Gabriel rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, his cheeks tingeing pink as he gave a little shake of his head, as if to say I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Her heart pounded for him. Her breath quickened. She wanted to rush the stage and save him. But then his gaze landed on her, and a corner of his mouth kicked up in that slow, sweet-and-sexy way that made her want to burrow into his embrace and never leave.
He reached up and flicked open the top button of his plaid shirt. The shouts in the room grew deafening. If Buck hadn’t had a microphone, she wouldn’t have heard him say, “Three hundred there! Who’ll give me fifty? Three fifty, three fifty, three fifty…”
Another button came undone. Then another. So slow, so methodical, each button revealing a few more inches of the white T-shirt he wore underneath. With a sudden shrug of his shoulders, the plaid shirt fell to his elbows, leaving him halfway bound.
“He’s trussed up and yours for the taking, ladies. Four fifty, four fifty, four fifty…”
He shrugged off the plaid shirt and spun it over his head like a helicopter’s rotor blade before letting it fly. It flopped over Josh’s face, and Molly grinned at Gabriel’s subtle way of telling the boy not to give him instructions.
“Remember, son, there’s a child present.”
“Take it off!” screamed a voice that sounded suspiciously like old Mrs. Schwartz’s.
Gabriel stood there in soft-looking jeans just loose enough to make her fingers itch and a T-shirt that hugged his beautifully defined shoulders, arms, and chest.
Those shoulders had the strength to save her son. Those arms had the gentleness to cradle Josh when he’d been so badly injured. And that chest, that incredible chest held the heart of the bravest man she knew.
“Nine hundred! Can I get fifty, nine fifty, nine fifty…”
Holy goodness, he’d just about raised a grand for her. Nine-hundred and fifty ways of thanking him sprang to her mind.
“Going once! Going twice!”
Josh dragged the plaid shirt off his head. “Twenty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents!”
Molly gasped. The crowd hushed, and the two men on stage froze. Buck shook away his shock first. “I’m not sure I heard you right, son. Can you repeat that?”
Josh cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “I said, twenty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents!”
Buck glanced around the room. “Is there anyone who’d like to bid against twenty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents?”
Mrs. Schwartz’s arm shot up, but one of her friends smacked it down.
“Sold to Josh Dekker!”
Chapter Seven
?
He’d just been bought by a ten-year-old boy. He should feel strange about that, but relief coursed through him—especially since it’d looked like drunk Mrs. Schwartz was ready to throw away her retirement fund to have him do God only knew what.
He shuddered.
He’d barely cleared the stage before someone with sharp fingernails pinched his ass and shouted, “Damn, that’s fine!” One hand covering his ass and the other protecting his package, he made his way to Molly and Josh. He hadn’t intended to take his shirt off, but Josh had not-so-subtly reminded him why he was here, and he’d wanted to do his best to raise money for Molly.