Jo snorted and grabbed the gavel back from him. “Go sit down, old man,” she demanded, giving his grizzled cheek an affectionate buss. “Everyone knew from the get-go that Slade’s wife was going to win him. Now you just be good and wait your turn, or your wife might just leave you a-hanging.”
Honestly, Jax didn’t know how Frank and Jo managed to live together without killing one another, but at the heart of it, their unconventional love for each other worked for them.
If Jax had had half the wisdom and foresight that this old couple shared, maybe his own marriage would have—
“Jax McKenna.”
The sound of his name pierced into his thoughts like a dart popping a balloon.
Nick gave him a none-too-gentle shove. “You’re up, bro. Go get ’em.”
“No, I—” Jax protested. He wasn’t ready to be paraded around like a piece of prime horseflesh. Not that he would ever be ready to face this moment, but he’d at least hoped to have a little more time to get used to the idea, to see how it went with some of the other guys before it was his turn to go.
With reluctant steps he dragged himself onto the platform, his jaw, his fists and his stomach clenched so tight he thought he might be sick. Folks were staring at him, and though the rational part of him knew that he was imagining it, he felt as if everyone’s gaze was glued to the ragged scar that ran from the corner of his mouth to his left temple.
He’d never been overly concerned about his appearance—at least not until after his face had been scarred in an accident and his wife, Susie, had left him for another man. The pain of his divorce was still too fresh for him to ignore, on top of the pain of the scars that marked him both inside and out, marring his features, badly damaging his hearing and shattering his confidence in himself. Everything combined to make participating in this auction all the more excruciating, no matter how good the cause.
He turned and started back the way he came. They had plenty of guys willing and able to compete in the auction. They would do just fine without him. He wouldn’t fetch much of a price, anyway.
“Jackson Daniel McKenna, you freeze right where you are.” Jax might be deaf in one ear, but that was no obstacle to Jo Spencer. Jax firmly believed her voice was loud enough and powerful enough to pierce through a stone wall, if she set her mind to it. And in this instance, it stopped him dead in his tracks. She was like a second mother to most of the town, Jax included, and her tone brooked no nonsense, making him feel as if he was a troublemaking five-year-old all over again.
“Turn your cute little fanny around and get on back over here, son. We need all the genuine bachelors we can get in this here auction. There might be a lady out there who’s just been waiting for an opportunity like this to get to know you, handsome fellow that you are.”
Jax flinched inwardly. He was one bachelor Serendipity could do without.
But denying Jo what she wanted? He couldn’t do that, especially in front of a crowd. He was painfully aware he was making an even bigger spectacle of himself by balking on the stage.
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, heading toward the front of the stage, dragging his feet with every step. When he got there, he stood stock-still, as if he was facing a firing squad. It kind of felt that way. There was no laughter or cheers this time, as there had been with his brother. That was fine by Jax. He might have to give in to Jo’s prodding, but he would not—not—flex his muscles the way Slade had done. He pulled the brim of his tan cowboy hat down lower over his eyes and jammed his hands in the front pockets of his blue jeans for good measure.
“Who is going to start the bidding for us today on this fine specimen of a man?” She gestured for him to pose like Slade had done but Jax ignored her. “Just look at the size of him. Which lovely young lady out there has some heavy lifting they need Jax here to do for them?”
The assembly was deathly silent—exactly as Jax had expected. No surprise there. He could hear his own breath, loud and ragged, scratching through the hush of the crowd.
He wanted to curl in on himself, but instead he straightened his shoulders. He wouldn’t cower, nor would he let anyone know how difficult this was for him. If he stood still long enough, the charade would play itself out and be over in a minute.
No one would bid on him. He’d swallow his pride and humiliation and go back to his ranch where he belonged. At least there he could find a semblance of peace among his award-winning herd of quarter horses, bred and trained for the rodeo circuit.
“Don’t tell me there’s not a-one of you ladies out there who needs a few chores done around your houses or ranches—something that requires a big, strapping man? Moving boxes, maybe? Bales of hay?”
Still nothing. Just the rustling sound of a few awkwardly shifting feet. A cough or two.
Jax caught Jo’s gaze, silently begging her to shoot him now and put him out of his misery. Honestly, he’d be willing to cough up a couple of hundred bucks out of his own pocket if it meant he could just walk away.
Jo frowned, lifted her chin and shook her head.
Stubborn old woman.
“I know most of y’all already know this about him, but he’s a wonder with horses. Top-notch. Anyone have a horse that needs training?”
This was ridiculous. Jax had had enough, and no doubt the crowd had, too. They were a nice enough bunch and they were probably feeling a whole lot of sorry for him right now.
Well, he didn’t want their pity.
“Five,” came a sweet, soft soprano located somewhere near the back of the crowd. Jax didn’t believe he recognized the woman’s voice, which was odd, since he knew most everyone in the small town.
“I’m sorry, dear,” Jo said, cupping a hand to her ear. “You’ll have to speak up. I couldn’t quite make out what you said.”
“Five,” the voice repeated, stronger and nearer to the platform now. “Hundred. Dollars. Five hundred dollars for the cowboy.”
Half a grand? For him?
Jax scanned the crowd until his gaze locked on the clearest, most sparkling hazel eyes he’d ever seen. The gaze belonged to a tall, lithe, blond-haired young lady who’d finally managed to work her way to the front of the crowd.
He’d definitely never seen her before. No way would he forget the kind of beauty she possessed. She looked as if she’d just walked off the cover of one of those fancy New York fashion magazines. Dressed that way, too, with a poofy purple scarf wound multiple times around her supple neck, a silky emerald shirt and designer jeans that emphasized her long legs but had definitely never seen the back of a horse. Most telling were her three-inch spiked heels that sunk into the soft grass with every step.
The woman actually had cash in her hand—five crisp Benjamin Franklins, which she waved in the air like a flag.
“Five hundred dollars,” she repeated for the third time. “But please, don’t make me lasso the poor man.”
* * *
The woman operating the cash box flashed Faith Dugan a welcome smile as Faith pressed five hundred-dollar bills into her palm. She hadn’t had time to visit the local branch of Serendipity’s bank to establish a checking account, and she felt awkward waving around that kind of cash. Apparently, she looked awkward, too—which she imagined was the reason all eyes were now upon her.
That and the fact that she was a newcomer in a crowd of people who had no doubt been born and raised in this town. Serendipity, Texas, wasn’t the kind of place folks moved in and out of. She was the exception. And she seemed to have shocked everyone by shelling out five hundred dollars for the brooding cowboy.