Only You (11 page)

She paused in buckling her sandals and pulled her keys out of her purse. “Would you?”

“My pleasure.” After locking up, he walked to where she sat on the steps. Holding out a hand, he said, “Ready?”

Josie put her hand in his and stood. “Ready.”

Somehow, Cole got the feeling that one word held a wealth of meaning that went beyond just going out on a Saturday night. Tonight could be the beginning of what might, if he played his cards right, turn into something special between him and the girl of his dreams.

Chapter Six

“Here we are,” Cole said.

The truck’s wheels crunched against gravel as he parked the truck outside a run-down looking warehouse. The parking area was packed with anything from dilapidated pick-ups to high-end luxury vehicles and everything in between.

“Man, we must be runnin’ late,” Cole said as he opened his door and hopped down from the truck cab.

He met her on the other side just as she was about to step out herself. He grasped her firmly at the waist and gently set her down in front of him.

“Thanks.”

He reached around her and pulled a cooler from behind the seat, then shut the door. Next he lifted two lawn chairs out of the truck bed.

“Can I carry something?” she asked.

“Sure.” He handed her the small cooler and took her hand. “Let’s go.”

“What’s all this for?” she asked indicating the cooler and lawn chairs as they crossed the parking lot.

“You’ll see.”

Several men had gathered outside the building to smoke. They greeted Cole as if he were a regular.

“How’s it goin’, fellas?” Cole asked good-naturedly.

“Cain’t complain. Cain’t complain. Ma’am.” A man in bibbed overalls and a T-shirt tipped his John Deere hat to her.

“Hello,” Josie said.

“This is some kinda crowd, tonight,” Cole said.

“Them Chicago boys outdid theirselves.”

“A good haul,
huh
?”

“Yeah, buddy.” One of the men commented solemnly.

“Well, I guess we’ll see ya’ll inside.”

Cole guided Josie through a side door. Once inside, she stood for a second letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting.

“Come on,” he urged. “All the good seats are just about taken.”

Surely he used the word “seats” loosely. There were some ancient folding chairs set up in the back. Some metal, some with wooden bottoms. Like Cole, most of the folks sitting up front had brought an assortment of lawn furniture. Others had put up handmade signs on a number of chairs that read “reserved.”

At the front of the room, there was the most awful tangle of what looked like the biggest garage sale she’d ever seen—times twenty.

“What is this place? A flea market?”

“No. It’s an auction house.”

“You’re kidding.”

Cole shook his head. “Here we go.” They stopped at a row near the front and he set their chairs up.

“Hi-dee, Cole.”

“Hey, Thelma Lou. Charlie.”

“How do,” Charlie said, then nodded at Josie.

“Hello,” Josie said. Thelma Lou?
Good Lord, we’ve taken a wrong turn and landed in Mayberry.

“Oh, this here’s Josie Allen. Josie, this is Charlie and Thelma Lou.”

“How do you do,” Josie said.

“I do just fine, thanks,” the man named Charlie said.

“Looks like a good spread,” Cole commented, tipping his head toward the assembled junk.

“Oh sure,” Charlie agreed. “Better get at it before they start.”

“Yep,” Cole agreed.

Josie had no idea what they were talking about. Get at it?

Cole took the cooler from her, set it between the chairs, then grabbed her hand and said, “Come on.”

“Where are we going? I thought we were late.”

“We gotta get signed in and check everything out.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Charlie just shook his head. “First timer?”

“Yeah. But she’s a quick learner.” To Josie, he said, “Let’s go.”

He laced his fingers with hers and led her to the front of the room. A lady who sat behind a card table with a clipboard greeted them. “Hey, Cole. Ma’am.”

“Hey, Mary Jane.”

“You need one or two paddles?”

“Just one.”

“Are they for bidding?” Josie asked.

Cole nodded.

Mary Jane smiled. “First timer?”

“Yep.” Cole pulled out a credit card and handed it to Mary Jane.

Okay. Josie was getting tired of being talked about as if she weren’t there. She was also getting tired of the patronizing comments about her ignorance of how things worked.

“Hope you got plenty of money on this,” the lady chuckled around her cigarette, ash falling from the end, as she ran an imprint of Cole’s card.

Cole laughed, too. “Yep. I’m guessin’ she’ll be an old hand at it in no time flat.” He put his card back in his wallet and handed Josie the paddle. “Here you go.”

“Glad to have you, miss,” Mary Jane said. To Cole she said, “You better give her a limit.”

Had she actually winked at him?

“What was that about? Josie asked as they walked away.

“Oh, don’t think nothin’ of it. Just good-natured ribbing. It’s her way of welcoming you. You know, she wants you to feel like you fit in.”

“Are you saying I don’t fit in?”

“No, I just meant it’s your first time, and Mary Jane was joking around to make you feel welcome.”

Could have fooled her, but she’d keep an open mind. She was out of her element, after all. These people probably wouldn’t have any idea how to organize books using the Dewey Decimal System. Well, at least most of them.

“Man . . .” Josie said. They were standing in the middle of the world’s biggest garage sale, no doubt about it. Up close, it was almost claustrophobic. Things were stacked up everywhere. Absolutely everything imaginable.

“Don’t worry. There’s a method to it.”

“How could there possibly be?”

“Trust me.”

They maneuvered through the narrow pathways that had been left open. Only one person at a time could pass, so she gladly trailed along after Cole. If one of the stacks fell, she could duck behind him. Such a big, muscular man. He could take it. Besides, she couldn’t complain about the view. His jeans hugged his hips and thighs in all the right places.

“Just have a look at what’s here and make a mental note of the things you’d like to bid on. They’ll do the boxes first, then the nick-knacks, pictures and such. They’ll work their way up from there to the big items, like the furniture.”

Josie nodded, trying to focus.

“See anything you like?”

If he only knew. “Honestly, there’s so much, I can hardly assimilate it. One item runs into the next.”

“How ’bout this?”

He’d pointed out a nice Victorian table lamp with a marble base and a faded blue, fringe-trimmed shade.

“Pretty,” Josie said, “How do you know if it works?”

“You don’t.”

“Why would you buy something without knowing if it worked?”

“That’s half the fun. It’s a bonus if it’s in perfect working order. If it ain’t, lamps are pretty easy to fix.”

“Maybe for you.”

“I’d fix it for you,” he said, leaning down to nuzzle her neck.

Josie giggled. “I’m sure you would. Oh!” She dropped to her knees.

“What?” He went down with her, his hand on her arm. “You okay?”

She just nodded as she poked through a box filled with old, leather-bound books. Running her hand across the smooth spines, she scanned the titles. “Oh my gosh!”

Cole peered over her shoulder. “What?”

“It’s
Tom Sawyer
.” She lifted the book out of the box and turned to the copyright page. “Oh my gosh! It’s a first edition!”

“
Shh
. . .” he said, glancing around to see if anyone had heard her.

“Do you know how much this is worth?” she whispered.

“I can imagine,” he said softly, his breath tickling her ear, “and you’d better keep that kind of information to yourself, unless you want to drive the price up. I mean, there are a few antique dealers here, but they go mostly for the furniture. You could probably get this whole box for five bucks.”

She dropped the book. “You’re kidding?”

“No, ma’am.”

Carefully, she picked it up, examining it to make sure she hadn’t damaged it. “Can we just give them five dollars now?”

“No, you have to bid on it.”

She reluctantly returned the book to the box. They continued to rummage around until the auctioneer took his place on the raised platform between the seating area and the merchandise.

“We best get our seats,” Cole said. “You hungry?”

“A little.”

Back at their lawn chairs, Cole flipped open the top on the cooler and said, “I brought canned soft drinks. If you don’t like what I have, there’s a machine out back.”

She took the lemon-lime drink he passed her. “This is fine.”

Josie sat back in her chair, her gaze sweeping around the room. What an experience. The whole casual, treasure-hunter atmosphere fascinated her. Some people continued to examine the tangle of items to be sold. Others, like them, relaxed in their chairs, waiting for the auction to begin. Most everyone had brought their own food. Others had gotten hot dogs and popcorn from the concession area in the back. “Interesting.”

“What?” He handed her a sandwich wrapped in wax paper.

“This whole scene. It’s not at all what I’d expect in an auction.”

“The only auctions you’ve probably ever seen are those high brow affairs where they sell off paintings or rich people’s things.”

Josie continued scanning the room. “I’ve never been to an auction period, but I’ve seen a few on television.”

“Yeah. This is
nothin’
like that.”

That much, she had surmised. She unwrapped her sandwich, halfway expecting Dixie’s chicken salad, but instead found a turkey hoagie.

“Is that okay?” A look of concern creased his brow.

“Yes,” she assured him. “I haven’t had a hoagie in years.” She bit into the sandwich. It tasted wonderful. She set the sandwich on a napkin in her lap and popped the top on her soda. After taking a long drink, she put the can in the cup holder built into the arm of her chair. “That’s handy.”

“Stick with me and you’ll learn all kinds of things I’m sure you never thought you would.”

Josie smiled. She had no doubt about that. She took a minute to just stare at Cole. He wore a loose fitting white cotton shirt with a good three buttons undone at his throat revealing a nice view of his smooth, tanned chest. He wore his long hair down today. She liked how he tucked it behind his ears and the way it fell in soft waves past his shoulders.

He wiped his chin with a napkin. “Do I have mustard on my face or something?”

She looked away, trying to smother a smile behind her napkin. “No,” she said, then hid behind another bite of her sandwich.

He leaned in close and whispered, “Like what you see?”

Heat rushed up her neck and settled in her cheeks. She swallowed and turned to look at him again. He was so close, they almost bumped noses. The warm, spicy scent of his cologne, combined with his elemental appeal, heightened her desire for him. At length, she managed to say, “Yes.”

He tilted his head to the side and kissed her. A brief, intense kiss that left her wanting more. He darted his tongue out to tease the corner of her mouth before breaking the contact. Heat raced through every inch of her body, and she wanted nothing more than to pull him back to her for a more thorough exploration.

“
Mmm
. Mustard tastes so much better that way.”

Josie jolted back to reality and wiped her mouth with her paper napkin. Hard to feel sexy when you have condiments dripping down your face.

“Now don’t go gettin’ all self-conscious,” he said as if reading her mind. “Eating can be very sensual.”

Josie imagined that watching ice melt with Cole would be sensual.
Hmm
. . . watching ice melt
on
Cole added amazing dimension to the wild fantasies racing through her mind. “Sorry,” she said.

“No need to apologize. I enjoyed it.”

Josie smiled a secret smile. He thought she’d apologized for having mustard on her face.

The auctioneer pounded his gavel effectively killing the mood. “Let’s get started, folks. We got a lot of good merchandise to go through here. The boys really brought some great items down for you tonight.”

She leaned toward Cole and whispered. “Tell me about these Chicago boys. This stuff isn’t stolen is it?”

He chuckled. “No. The Chicago boys are really just two guys with a truck who make a run to Chicago every two weeks and bring the goods for the auction back with them.”

“Oh.”

Three guys who could easily have played the backwoods characters Larry, Darrell and Darrell on the sitcom,
Newhart,
carried boxes to the front of the room.

“They always do the boxes first,” Cole said.

“What’s in them?”

They both continued to munch on their sandwiches while Larry dug through the contents of the box he held. He pulled out a lace tablecloth, held up some glassware, and a painted vase.

“It’s kinda like a grab bag. You never know what you’re gonna get. That’s ninety percent of the fun.”

“Have you ever gotten one?”

“Sure.”

“What was in it?”

“Mostly junk.”

“Oh.” For some reason, she was incredibly disappointed.

“And one of the first Batman comics ever printed, in mint condition.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Did you sell it?”

“Oh, yeah. Bought a real nice computer with the money I got.”

“Wow. Hey, maybe I could get a few computers for the library that way!” she joked.

They’d begun taking bids on the third box. It went for two dollars.

“Can we get one?” she asked a tad breathlessly.

“Sure. Just pick out the one you want and bid.”

“How?”

“Listen to the auctioneer. He started the bid on this one at fifty dollars. He always starts high because he gets a percentage of the sells.”

Josie listened. The man was saying, “Well give me fifty, give me fifty, give me fifty . . .” Then he went to, “Well give me forty, give me forty, give me forty.” He worked it all the way down to ten dollars. When he didn’t receive a bid, the man said, a touch of exasperation in his voice, “Somebody start us off.”