Sapphire Falls: Going Gets Hot (Kindle Worlds Novella) (My Country Heart Book 4)

by Rachelle Ayala

  “Don’t hurry me along,” Ginger said. “Marsh and I are taking our sweet time.”

  Honey peeked out the door at the bar and said, “We’d better get you out there before the Dance Auction’s over.”

  * * *

  Chad was in trouble the moment he spotted Amber with her sisters saunter out onto the dance floor. He’d been nursing a beer, trying to fit in, and watching the auction. Every time Mike or Marsh elbowed him and told him to bid on someone, he’d resorted to his “New in town, want to see if the next one is better” act.

  “Here comes someone else new,” Mike yelled over the crowd who was whooping it up over Helen, the lady who’d accosted him earlier. “She’s over there with her sisters.”

  “We’re at two fifty,” the auctioneer woman said. “Anyone for two seventy-five? Helen’s our all-around cheerleading champ. Bakes a mean apple pie, and takes home the trophy every year at the chili cookout.”

  Guys nudged each other and once or twice, the auctioneer pointed to one. “You there, is that a bid?”

  “No, not me.” A burly man said and his friends feigned flipping out their pockets to show they’re empty.

  Truthfully, the bids have all been so high, it was a shock anyone still had any spending money. Objectively speaking, the women were worth it, but it was a lot of money for a single two-step around the dance floor.

  The only woman he’d bid for would be Amber, but what if he won? Then he’d have to speak to her, and he’d get nervous, and blow it.

  Had she seen him? He craned his neck and saw her sisters strong-arm her into position. She’d be the last one, because when the auctioneer called her name earlier, she wasn’t present.

  He moved sideways through the crowd to get a closer look. She’d also lost her glasses or at least was wearing contacts, and she was looking straight at him with a puzzled expression on her face. Either that, or she’d seen a ghost or a monster.

  Not wanting to scare her into thinking he was someone else, he waved. “Ah-am-ber. I-it’s Ch-chad.”

  She didn’t respond, so he cleared his throat and waved again.

  “Sold, for two seventy-five to the gentleman standing next to Marsh Wolff.” The auctioneer pointed their direction, and Chad swung his head in shock. Marsh was dating someone seriously—a hairdresser, and he’d just bid on Helen the former cheerleader?

  “Sir, what’s your name?” the auctioneer asked, but Marsh didn’t answer. Maybe he was only raising money for the pet rescue.

  Chad didn’t care. Taking a deep breath, he headed toward Amber, but people tapped his shoulder, and Marsh said, “Dude, tell them your name.”

  “Me?” His gaze traveled from face to face, wondering why everyone wanted his name. “Chad P-Powers. I-I’m new here.”

  “Chad Powers.” the auctioneer said. “You get three dances with Miss Helen Klitz.”

  “Me?” He pointed to himself. “But it’s M-Marsh who bid.”

  Raucous laughter surrounded him, and all he saw were open mouths, white teeth, and crinkled eyes. What was so funny?

  Helen sidled up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I knew you’d bid on me. I can’t wait to take a ride in your big, red truck.”

  “But I—”

  A sinking realization zipped his lip. He’d been so busy waving at Amber, that the auctioneer took it to be a bona fide bid.

  Even though he’d been called a first-rate asshole in the past, he wasn’t about to hurt a stranger’s feelings, especially since she was looking up at him with eager and hopeful eyes.

  “S-sure, I-I still need to m-make another bid.” He nudged his way to the front of the dance floor.

  Unfortunately, Helen glued herself to him and followed with her arm still around his waist.

  “Hey, I’m good with a threesome,” she said, licking her pert lips. “You eyeing that new girl? I heard she’s a real nerd. Don’t be fooled by her looks. Her sister’s the town hairdresser, and she just got a makeover. Those clothes? Fresh off the rack. Bet those jeans aren’t even broken in. Not like yours, torn the real way, by hard work and not ripped by a machine to look cool.”

  It was hard to concentrate on the bidding with Helen’s yapping, but he strained to listen to Amber’s biography, not that he didn’t know it by heart.

  “Last, but definitely not least, we have Miss Amber Myers.” The auctioneer’s voice rang out loud, vibrating his eardrums as a cheer rose around the dance floor. “Amber is a research scientist at IAS, and she just rolled into town from New York City. Please make her feel welcome, and let the bidding begin.”

  Amber stood next to the statuesque auctioneer, and held a pasted, nervous smile on her face. She blinked and glanced around, before focusing her gaze on him.

  Chad grimaced a smile to put her at ease, and she nodded, acknowledging their acquaintance.

  “Hey, does she know you?” Helen blared. “She seems a bit stiff for a threesome. You sure she’ll know what to do? I usually do them with my girlfriends.”

  Chad wasn’t sure that he could do the two-step with one woman, let alone two.

  “Let me concentrate on the bid,” he said, not wanting to show his interest too soon. Like on eBay, it was better to come in at the end and snipe the bid by placing an astronomical one in the final split second, he wasn’t going to give away his interest first.

  “A hundred to the gentleman with the blue hat.”

  “One fifty to the guy in the back.”

  “Two hundred. Do I hear two fifty?”

  “You, there, two fifty. Come on, everyone wants to dance with the new girl, right? I want to hear three hundred. Sir, are you going to bid or are you scratching your head?’

  “Two fifty, going once, come on, we can do better! It’s for a good cause. The rescue shelter. Going once, twice.”

  “Three hundred!” Chad called out.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the auctioneer said. “You already have the next three dances.”

  “But we can have a threesome!” Helen shouted. “I don’t mind sharing.”

  Chad nodded, but the other men in the bar booed.

  “You got your dances already.”

  “No fair hogging up the fillies.”

  “It’s called the two-step, not the three-step.”

  “Give us guys a chance.”

  “But, but, I-I …” There was no sense arguing. He’d mistakenly bid for Helen, and as an honorable man, he’d have to make good on it.

  It was only a dance.

  “I’ll take her for three hundred.” A tall distinguished-looking man wearing an unbuttoned chambray shirt over a white T-shirt stepped up to the floor.

  Vic Forster, a famous scientist from Chicago.

  “Three hundred. Going once, twice,” the auctioneer called. “Remember, ladies, you still have a chance to bid on Mr. Right, so gentlemen, make sure you don’t step on any toes.”

  She paused and looked around as everyone chuckled, then said. “Sold, to the stranger in the blue. What’s your name, sir?”

  Chapter Seven

  Amber couldn’t keep count in her head as the stranger who paid to be on her dance card, steered her around the dance floor.

  Fast, fast, slow, slow, fast, fast, slow, slow, and she had to walk backwards while her heart raced and sputtered as she craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Chad Powers.

  Her Chad Powers!

  He’d finally cut his hair, after all those years of her wishing it were so. Not only that, the scraggly beard was gone too, and the clothes? Whose closet had he raided? They weren’t spanking new like hers, still stiff and pressed from the factory, but soft and relaxed, well-worn flannel shirt over a tight black T and faded jeans.

  Who would have thought Chad had abs and a strong set of shoulders? Now that the focus wasn’t on his scruffy beard and long hair, he actually turned out to be quite a hunk.

  Except he was dancing with Sapphire Falls’ number one cheerleader, if the comments thrown around meant anything. Helen Kl
itz had been head cheerleader in high school, and now she was the cheerleading coach. She was also a hometown favorite and as All-American as they came: pie baker, chili cook-off winner, and as blond as a Barbie doll.

  Amber tore her gaze away from Chad and his partner as the blonde snuggled up to him, leaving no room between them.

  “You know him?” her dance partner asked. “You can always bid for him on the next round.”

  “He’s no one I know,” Amber said, squelching any desire to put her neck on the line for Chad. Besides, he’d always been rude to her and barely able to tolerate her presence. He hadn’t even clued her in that he was also taking a job at IAS.

  No doubt, he’d already sucked up to Mason Riley, their boss, and was being provided a lab, assistants, and all the perks a big man in the microbial world deserved.

  And he got a sign-on bonus and she didn’t.

  Amber missed a turn and stumbled, smashing into the blonde who was practically glued to Chad.

  “Ow, watch where you’re going,” the snotty voice shrilled in her ear.

  “Sorry,” Amber mumbled. She might as well enjoy the dance, because Chad was obviously enjoying his. He wouldn’t even meet her eye and acted like he didn’t know her.

  Then why had he tossed that sympathy bid for her right at the end?

  Well, duh, he’d walked in with Ginger’s boyfriend. Marsh must have tipped him off and told him to toss in a bid. One that meant nothing since he was disqualified for having already won a couple of dances.

  She turned her attention to the man she was dancing with. He’d paid a pretty penny to save her from looking like a fool. Perhaps he was one of Max’s friends.

  “How about you?” she asked. “Do you know a lot of people around here?”

  “Not many. Just traveling for business, saw the signs for the festival and decided to give it a look-see. Glad I came late and found you still up for grabs.” His eyes twinkled and he tugged her closer to him. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Oh, I, uh, don’t dance very well,” she sputtered.

  “You’re doing just fine.” His deep voice rumbled, and he flashed her a confident grin. “I take it you’re not from these parts.”

  “Just moved here from New York City.”

  “Oh? And you left the Big Apple for cornfields?” He raised an eyebrow, highlighting his rugged face. She judged him to be in his mid-thirties, based on the laugh lines around his eyes. No gray hair, though, he was actually quite a handsome man, now that she decided to pay attention.

  “A job. I’m doing epigenetics research, looking for factors that turn on or off the expression of genes on crop plants, soil microbes, and even pests.”

  “You must work for Mason Riley,” the man said, expertly gliding her around the floor as the music changed to a slower number. “I’m a friend of his from school. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself properly in all the hubbub. I’m Dr. Vic Forster.”

  “Dr. Forster?” Amber panicked and stepped back. He was one of the world’s foremost experts on using epigenetics to improve crop yields, resistance to diseases and pests, tolerance to environmental stress, and nutritional value. “Are you here to visit Mason?”

  “Here to review an ongoing project we have concerning developing nutrient rich foods while keeping a lid on pests and diseases for the Haitian government.” He grinned and tightened his grip on her hand and body. “But let’s not talk shop. Tonight, I’m dancing with a beautiful woman. I’m sure I’ll see you at IAS soon enough.”

  Gosh. What luck. Amber allowed the good doctor to pull her closer to his warm and sturdy body. She’d been studying Dr. Forster’s papers and formulating an idea on how to modify certain genetic expressions and have them be inheritable.

  Not only was this man brilliant, but he seemed attracted to her. She was sure she could interest him in a proposal to do joint work, and this could be a big boon to her budding career.

  Heck, maybe in a year or two, she could apply for a PhD program and he would write her a recommendation letter.

  She leaned her head against Dr. Forster’s shoulder and closed her eyes, a smile stretching over her face.

  * * *

  This was a disaster. An unmitigated giant fubar disaster. Not only was Chad stuck to a cheerleading piranha, but the only woman he’d set his heart on was dancing with a famous scientist.

  Mason had briefed Chad about Dr. Forster, and he was schedules to present his microbial research to the eminent scientist.

  This was an emergency. He had to cut into their dance before Amber got too close to Dr. Forster and got the credit for the collaboration Mason wanted to set up.

  Besides, he didn’t want Amber dancing with anyone else, ever, not even his cousins. She was going to be his assistant at work, and hopefully in time, she’d see him as the man who could fulfill her every need. There was no way he was going to let Dr. Forster horn in on her.

  Chad tried to extricate himself from Helen’s prying arms. “Our three dances are up. I had a wonderful time, but I have to go to sleep. Got to get up early tomorrow for work.”

  “Work, smirk?” Helen rolled her eyes. “It’s Festival Week. Everyone in town knows we only work part day on festival week.”

  “Actually, it’s my first day of work, and I want to make a good impression.” Chad pried one of Helen’s hands from him, but when he went for her other hand, she slipped the first hand firmly back around his waist.

  “You need to relax,” Helen said. “I give awesome backrubs. If you want to leave, we can go back to my place.”

  “No, I have to get my cooler back to my refrigerator,” Chad said, remembering the ice chest full of samples and Aunt Anne’s food. With the warm summer temperatures, he couldn’t keep it in his truck bed for too much longer.

  “Yum, what’s in the cooler?” Helen licked her lips. “Would you happen to have Booze?”

  “No, my aunt made a Reuben casserole, and my cousins made brownies, chocolate fudge, and mud pies.” He stopped Helen from moving her sneaky hand up under his T-shirt. “I have to get it to my refrigerator before the ice melts and the food goes bad.”

  “I’ve a great idea.” She bounced up and down on her perky cheerleader’s toes. “Let me bring the Booze, we take your truck, and have a tailgating party at the River.”

  “I, uh.” Chad tried to get a word past his tight throat as the music ended, and the auctioneer announced it was time for the men to line up for their part of the auction.

  He didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell that Amber would bid on him, and most likely, she would bid on Dr. Forster, if only to prolong her time with him.

  “Ladies, get your wallets out,” the auctioneer called. “If you liked your partner, show him by bidding big for him. It’s all for a great cause, and the puppies and kittens down at the rescue shelter will lick and purr their thanks to you.”

  “I, uh, have to go.” Chad extricated himself from Helen with surprising ease.

  She made a beeline to her friends. “Hey, ya’ll! Party at Chad’s tailgate. He’s got a Reuben casserole and chocolate goodies.”

  The man with Amber shook his head when someone asked him to join the auction. “I’ll write a check to the shelter, but I’ve got my date for the night.”

  Date for the night? Had he propositioned Amber and was taking her back to his place?

  Indeed, they headed toward the door, so Chad followed. It wasn’t safe for her to leave with a guy she didn’t know.

  “Am-Amber!” He screwed up his courage and yelled. “I, I w-wanted to to—”

  “There you are!” Helen’s voice caught up to him. “My friends don’t want to go to the River. Too many mosquitoes and no bug spray, so let’s have the party in the parking lot.”

  Had he invited her to a party? He slammed his palm against his forehead. Or was all the noise and the press of the crowd making him forgetful and confused?

  Amber gave him a look oozing with disdain as she hooked her hand around Dr. Forster’s arm
and sauntered out to the parking lot.

  Disdain or not. Chad had to make sure she was safe, so he followed at a safe distance, despite being surrounded by the giggling cheer squad of 2009. Yep, he picked that tidbit up from their continued chants of “2009 and we’re all so fine.”

  What luck. Dr. Forster’s Porsche was wedged into a spot next to his large pickup truck. Even better, it looked like an SUV had parked close on the other side. He was boxed in and going nowhere unless either Chad moved his truck or the unknown SUV moved theirs.

  Sure enough, after surveying the position of his car, the scientist headed back toward the bar, no doubt to find the owner of either vehicle.

  Since Helen was hanging onto his arm, he whispered to her, “If anyone asks, tell him this is your truck, and don’t move it. I don’t want that man in the Porsche to go anywhere with that lady he picked up.”

  “Okie, doke.” Helen perked up now that she had an assignment. “I know the owner of the SUV, no worries. We boxed Mr. City Slicker in good. Hee, hee, hee.”

  She took out her phone and sent a text message, no doubt to the owner of the SUV. “I’ll ask her to bring the Booze. We’ll all be so drunk, we can’t drive. Ha, ha, ha!”

  Ha, ha, indeed. Now he had Amber trapped.

  She stood by herself watching him and his crowd—oh yeah, he fit in just fine, as her “date” no doubt scoured the bar asking after the owners of the two vehicles boxing in his City Slicker Sportscar.

  Yes, he thought the words with great disdain.

  “Imagine him driving that car to the River,” Chad sneered. “He’ll be needing a tow from me when he gets stuck in the mud.”

  “Too bad, so sad. I’d like to see him stuck behind a row of tractors.” Helen immediately provided backup. “Give me the keys.”

  “Sure thing.” He slipped it to her, pretending they were holding hands so Amber wouldn’t notice the ruse.

  “Yee ha! We got the Booze.” One of Helen’s friends rushed up with a giant Mason jar in her arms. “Blueberry flavor.”

  “Let’s party up!” Helen pressed the button on the key fob and lowered his tailgate. All her friends pounced onto the truck bed and eagerly went for the cooler.