Ropes and Revenge (27 page)

“I’m ready.” Naomi looped her arm through her sister’s. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

“You’re bluffing,” Maddie huffed, her breath forming a crystal fog in front of her face.

“How can you tell?”

“I have the best bullshit detector in three states,” Maddie said, before adding in a slightly sour voice, “except when it comes to my ex, of course.”

Maddie and her ex-husband, Serge—a Croatian chef she’d met in Paris while studying the art of French pastry—had split up six months ago. Serge had finally broken down and confessed to his wife and best friend that he was gay and had fallen in love with one of the lifeguards at the resort where he and Maddie both worked. Two days after announcing the news to his wife, he’d started divorce proceedings and moved to San Francisco to start a new life with Craig.
 

Maddie had pretended not to be devastated, but Naomi knew better. She might not have the best bullshit detector in three states—or even in one state if her own recent relationship history was anything to judge by—but she knew her baby sister. Something inside Maddie was broken. Her blue eyes didn’t sparkle the way they used to, and even her smile looked sad around the edges.

“Hey,” Naomi said in a soft voice. “If you don’t want to be here, we can leave. It’s no big deal.”

Maddie shook her head, sending her dark-chocolate curls tumbling around her shoulders. They were the same shade as Naomi’s had been before she streaked her hair with caramel highlights yesterday in an effort to perk up her outsides along with her insides.

“No way,” Maddie said, lifting her chin a little higher. “It’s important that you patch things up with Jake. I’m not sure this is the best way to do it, but you’ve got money in your purse and I’m here to help you spend it.”

Naomi grinned and nudged Maddie with her shoulder. “Does that mean you’re going to let me buy one for you? I brought extra cash just in case.”

Maddie snorted. “You’re crazy. I’m not going to be able to watch this without giggling like a ten-year-old on a sugar high, let alone bid on a beefcake of my own.”

Naomi giggled. “I know. But I can’t wait. Thank God for Methodists.”

“Amen,” Maddie said, laughing as they headed for the entrance, joining the throngs of women surging into the Methodist fellowship hall.

Only the Methodists would allow the firefighters to hold a “Hunk-for-a-Month” charity auction in their large basement. The Baptists across the street were undoubtedly scandalized by the idea of half-naked men in a house of worship. The Baptists didn’t approve of dancing, let alone oiled-up firefighters strutting down a makeshift catwalk while local women hooted and hollered and bid on the man they wanted to be their date for the next month of Fridays.

Naomi, however, wasn’t scandalized at all. She was determined. Determined to use the fifteen hundred dollars burning a hole in her red leather purse to buy a chance at a fresh start with Jake Hansen.

Jake Hansen
. Just thinking his name sent a shiver up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Jake was more than her former high school sweetheart; he was the person who had taught her how to love. When she’d finally finished sowing her wild oats and wanted to settle down, it was her relationship with Jake that she’d looked back on as a model for how to make “happily ever after” work.

Naomi had been a good partner to her fiancé, Caleb—certainly better than she had ended up being to Jake—but Caleb hadn’t been ready to settle down. He’d made that abundantly clear eight months ago when tragedy struck and Naomi hit rock bottom. Instead of being there to catch her and lift her back into the light, the way a man like Jake would have been, Caleb had packed his things, said good-bye, and left her alone in the darkness. Naomi had cried for two days straight before her family had flown in and helped her pull herself together for the trip to the cemetery.

The only bright spot was that Naomi had managed to keep her pregnancy—and her baby’s premature delivery—from the press. The Whitehouses had been the only ones at the gravesite, the only ones to mourn the little girl who hadn’t made it past her fifth month inside her mama. Caleb, the father of Naomi’s baby, hadn’t even sent flowers.

Even now—eight months and a lot of intensive therapy later—the memory of that tiny coffin was still enough to make Naomi’s throat lock up and her heart shrivel in her chest.

No, not tonight,
she thought, gritting her jaw against the wave of emotion.
Tonight is for the future, for nurturing new beginnings, not licking old wounds.

Naomi plastered a smile on her face as she and Maddie waved at old school friends near the coat check and joined the crowd of women wandering into the fellowship hall.

Inside the basement, which smelled vaguely of tater tots, chili, and other fellowship meals, the normally bright fluorescents had been shut off and a catwalk decorated with fire hoses was illuminated with sultry red spotlights. The thirty or so round tables surrounding the catwalk were already filling up, and Maddie and Naomi had to hustle to find two seats together near the back of the room, at a table of gray haired ladies with flushed cheeks and mischief in their eyes.

“Mrs. Watson!” Naomi broke into a laugh at the sight of her sixty-something fifth grade teacher twirling her auction card—a cutout of a red firefighter’s cap with a number in the center glued to a wooden dowel—between two fingers.

“Naomi! You look amazing, sugar!” Mrs. Watson leveraged her considerable bulk from her chair and enveloped Naomi in a cushiony hug. “We’re so glad to have you back where you belong, baby girl. And Maddie, too!”

“It’s so good to see you!” Naomi squeezed her tight. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here,” Mrs. Watson said, winking as she released Naomi from her embrace. “Where else would I be? It’s not every day you get to see fourteen brave, Southern men in the prime of their lives without their shirts on.”

“Men, indeed. Those boys are young enough to be your sons, Mimi Watson. Or
grandsons
for that matter,” Gretchen March piped up from across the table, her lips pruning with disapproval. Gretchen was the grandmother of their business partner, Aria, and was never shy about sharing her opinions. “If you ask me, this monkeyshine shouldn’t be allowed in church, even if it
is
only the church basement.”

“Oh, hush, Gretchen.” Mrs. Watson laughed as she reclaimed her seat. “I don’t remember twisting your arm to get you in the car tonight.”

Gretchen lifted her nose into the air. “Well, someone has to keep an eye on the rest of you, make sure you don’t spend your grocery money on some shirtless hoodlum.” She glanced furtively over her shoulder before leaning in to add in a loud whisper, “I heard one of them was going to be wearing a tiny bathing suit like those European men wear at the beach.”

“Oh, I hope so,” Mrs. Watson said, clapping her hands.

The rest of the older women giggled, and Naomi and Maddie took their seats. Naomi plucked her auction card from next to her slice of chocolate cake and clenched it in her slowly thawing fingers.

Lucky number fifty-eight.

At least she hoped it would be lucky and that she’d brought enough cash to secure Jake as her date for the month. She didn’t imagine anyone else would be willing to go above fifteen hundred dollars. The proceeds from this fundraiser were going to a good cause—a badly needed new firehouse—but most women in Summerville weren’t CEOs of multi-million dollar companies.

Naomi’s cooking show was in reruns on two different cable networks, and
Naomi Whitehouse: Gourmet Foods and More
was making a mint. Her gourmet products were flying off grocery store shelves, and she’d just developed a line of cookware for a major department store chain. Naomi had more money than she knew what to do with, especially considering she was currently living in her parents’ house and Maddie refused to let Naomi pay more than a third of the start-up costs for the bakery they were opening in downtown Summerville.

Naomi had tried to convince Maddie and her business partner, Aria March, that it was absolutely no big deal for her to foot the bill for the renovation, as well as the first year’s worth of expenses, but they wouldn’t hear of it. Then again, both women were more focused on the bottom line than Naomi was.

Naomi had been wealthy for years, and she knew first hand that when it came to happiness, money truly couldn’t buy you anything even close. Aria March, with her sexy, devoted husband, adorable little girl, and new baby due next year, was richer than Naomi in every way that mattered.

No, money couldn’t buy happiness, but maybe it could buy her a foot in the door. If she was going to make a life for herself in Summerville—a happy, authentic life filled with love and laughter—she had to make peace with Jake. Since coming home, she’d only seen him for a few minutes, but that had been long enough to make it obvious that he hated her.

When Naomi spotted Jake in the A&P’s frozen food aisle yesterday, she’d smiled and headed toward him with every intention of starting over as grown-up friends. But before she’d made it out of the ice-cream section, Jake shot her a glare that would melt a glacier, spun on his heel, and walked out of the store without a backward glance.

“Are you going to eat your cake?” Maddie whispered as the lights dimmed and Mitzy Chambers, the city councilwoman who was sponsoring the fundraiser, walked down the catwalk, microphone in hand.

“No, you take it. I’m too nervous,” Naomi said, pushing the cake toward her sister.

Maddie had put on a few pounds since moving back to Summerville, but she was still gorgeous. Besides, after being left for a lifeguard named Craig, Maddie had the right to eat her feelings. Naomi figured they could both start making healthier choices once they had the bakery up and running and had started their new lives off on the right foot.

For Naomi, that first, right-footed step would be taken tonight.

“Welcome, ladies,” Mitzy said, laughing as she was greeted with a cheer from the assembled women. “First of all, let me tell y’all how glad I am to see you here tonight. Our hardworking firefighters have been in desperate need of a new firehouse for years. Since the last ballot initiative didn’t pass, we’ve decided to take things into our own hands. With your help, we’re hoping to make Hunk-for-a-Month the biggest fundraiser Summerville has ever seen.”

Her words were met with a hearty round of applause.

“I’m sure y’all are ready to see the men you’ve come to bid on,” she said, laughing as the room echoed with more cheers and a few squeals. “But before we get started, I want to make sure y’all understand how this works.”

Mitzy held up an arm and the image projected onto the wall to her left changed from a greeting to a list of the month’s upcoming events—a holiday fair, a dinner and silent auction, a hayride and bonfire, and a holiday ball.

“Tonight you’ll be bidding on a date to the rest of our fundraising events,” Mitzy said. “Each Friday, you and your firefighter escort will enjoy the festivities we have planned, culminating in the Fireman’s Ball, where you’ll be guests of honor and we’ll announce how much we’ve raised. We hope the entire town will turn out to support these events, and we know seeing our brave men—”

“And woman!” a feminine voice called out from behind the curtains separating the back stage from the catwalk, eliciting a wave of laughter from the audience.

Mitzy smiled. “Yes, and woman. I hope you ladies brought some money to bid on behalf of your sons and grandsons because we also have one lovely lady firefighter up for auction tonight.”

“She’s a girl, anyway—not sure about the lady part,” a male voice from behind the curtain called out, getting an even bigger response from the crowd.

Mitzy laughed. “It seems the natives are getting restless,” she said with a bright smile. “So, without further ado, I invite you all to sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Let our brave firefighters entertain you and get ready to start bidding!”

As Mitzy descended the steps to the catwalk, pulsing club music began to throb from the speakers, and disco lights spun across the stage. A moment later, the curtain at the back of the stage parted and an olive-skinned hunk strutted out. He was wearing skin-tight jeans and a fireman’s jacket open at the front to reveal his washboard abs. The man winked and paused to do a slow turn at the center of the catwalk, and Naomi’s stomach lurched miserably.

She knew that hunk, knew him almost as well as she knew his brother.

Naomi swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way her pulse beat frantically at her throat as Jamison Hansen, Jake’s little brother, worked the catwalk like a male model. His cocky grin remained firmly in place as he slid his coat slowly off his shoulders, revealing the to-die-for body beneath, and Naomi’s mind reeled.

What the heck was going on?

Jamison Hansen didn’t live in Summerville anymore. Naomi had it on good authority—a friend of a friend who was working her way through the police force after dating half the firemen in town—that Jamison had left two years ago to work for a fire department in Atlanta. He wasn’t supposed to be here. This could ruin everything!

Naomi leaned over to whisper in Maddie’s ear. “I thought Jamison moved.”

Maddie pressed her hand to her mouth, but she was giggling too hard to stop. Her eyes were glued to Jamison with a mix of horror, appreciation, and embarrassment that would have made Naomi laugh if she wasn’t suddenly feeling nauseous.

“Forget it.” Naomi settled back in her chair, nibbling on her lip as Jamison reached the end of the catwalk and did a booty-shake dance that was ridiculous enough to be funny, but still sexy enough to have all the ladies making noise.

Jamison was the perfect first man out—gorgeous and friendly, but silly and gregarious enough to put everyone at ease.

Everyone, except Naomi.

As Mitzy started the bidding and women shouted out dollar amounts from different corners of the room, Naomi slid lower and lower in her seat. The chances that Jamison would see her from fifty feet away were slim, but she wasn’t willing to risk it. In fact, she planned to make her escape from this table of frisky old ladies as soon as Jamison disappeared behind the curtains.