crowd parted to allow the man
who had won the winning bid make his way to the front
of the room. My smile faltered, and I froze. It was Donovan. What the hell was
he doing here? I glanced at Jerry, and then at the sheriff, and gave a slight
shake of my head.
"No,"
I gasped. I was filled with disbelief and stunned amazement. Within a matter of
moments, Donovan stood before me, grinning. "No," I muttered again,
shaking my head.
Donovan
pulled out his wallet, removed some cash, and handed it to the sheriff. Then,
he turned to me. "Memphis," he said, offering his hand.
He was
fucking loving this.
"No,"
I said again, shaking my head, not loud enough for anyone but him to hear.
"You can't be serious"
"I'm
perfectly serious," he said. "Remember, it's for charity."
I turned
once again to Jerry and the sheriff, who abruptly gestured for me to leave the
so-called stage area to make room for the next waitress to come out.
“The next
lovely lady doing her part for our charity is none other than Miss Sally Mae
Jenkins!” Again, excited cheers and laughter greeted her emergence from the
kitchen area.
Donovan
gently grasped my hand and guided me through the crowd toward the front door. "Donovan,
this isn't—"
"I
bid fair and square," he said. "So you're not going to renege on your
deal, are you?"
"But Donovan,
really, this isn’t necessary!" I stammered as we walked out of the bar and
grill, the bidding going hot and heavy for Sally Mae. "You could’ve just
called on me—"
"How
was I supposed to do that?" he asked. "I haven't seen you since the
funeral, and you haven't been by the ranch."
"This
is a private time for you and your family," I insisted. "I'm not
about to intrude on such a personal thing."
He led me
toward the side of the building, still within sight of the well-lit windows facing
the parking lot. "Shane told me that you've been doing the books for my
dad for the past few years."
"That's
right," I said. "Again, that's something that could have been
discussed without you having to bid on me for this charity auction."
He
shrugged. "I consider it money well spent. I'm going to be in town for at
least a few more days and heard about the auction. I thought it might be
fun."
"Fun? For you maybe, but not for
me," I muttered.
"Where's
your community spirit?" he teased.
"Don't
you tease me about community spirit," I snapped. "In fact, I doubt if
you even know the meaning of the word anymore."
His smile
disappeared. "Memphis, I'm here now, so can we try to make the best of
it?"
I shook my
head. "We could've done that without you bidding for dates, for crying out
loud!"
It was his
turn to shake his head. "I kind of doubt that. Besides, we need to
talk."
"Talk? No. It's kind of late for that,
don't you think?"
He sighed.
"Look, Memphis, I realize I've made a lot of mistakes—"
"Mistakes?" I broke in, my eyebrows lifting.
"Is that what you call your disappearing act and breaking off contact for
the past eight years? A mistake?"
"I
didn't break off contact," he insisted. "I talked to my mom a couple
times…but I figured that the rest of family didn't want to have anything to do
with me after—"
"After
you just walked out on everyone's lives?" I couldn't help but ask.
"After you walked out on me?" He didn't answer but continued to look
down at me, an unfathomable expression on his face. "Look, Donovan, I
don't mean to make you feel bad, especially right after you've just buried your
father. But to be quite blunt, there's nothing more between us. You left and I
moved on. You've made a life for yourself, and so have I."
"You
get married?" he asked.
I paused,
wondering if I should even answer his question. Then, I decided it wouldn't
serve any purpose not to. "No. What about you?"
"No,"
he said.
I had a
million questions but didn't want to voice them. After all, we were over,
weren't we? He had moved on, and I had just told him that I had. No sense in
dredging up old wounds, opening old scars, and reliving
who had won the winning bid make his way to the front
of the room. My smile faltered, and I froze. It was Donovan. What the hell was
he doing here? I glanced at Jerry, and then at the sheriff, and gave a slight
shake of my head.
"No,"
I gasped. I was filled with disbelief and stunned amazement. Within a matter of
moments, Donovan stood before me, grinning. "No," I muttered again,
shaking my head.
Donovan
pulled out his wallet, removed some cash, and handed it to the sheriff. Then,
he turned to me. "Memphis," he said, offering his hand.
He was
fucking loving this.
"No,"
I said again, shaking my head, not loud enough for anyone but him to hear.
"You can't be serious"
"I'm
perfectly serious," he said. "Remember, it's for charity."
I turned
once again to Jerry and the sheriff, who abruptly gestured for me to leave the
so-called stage area to make room for the next waitress to come out.
“The next
lovely lady doing her part for our charity is none other than Miss Sally Mae
Jenkins!” Again, excited cheers and laughter greeted her emergence from the
kitchen area.
Donovan
gently grasped my hand and guided me through the crowd toward the front door. "Donovan,
this isn't—"
"I
bid fair and square," he said. "So you're not going to renege on your
deal, are you?"
"But Donovan,
really, this isn’t necessary!" I stammered as we walked out of the bar and
grill, the bidding going hot and heavy for Sally Mae. "You could’ve just
called on me—"
"How
was I supposed to do that?" he asked. "I haven't seen you since the
funeral, and you haven't been by the ranch."
"This
is a private time for you and your family," I insisted. "I'm not
about to intrude on such a personal thing."
He led me
toward the side of the building, still within sight of the well-lit windows facing
the parking lot. "Shane told me that you've been doing the books for my
dad for the past few years."
"That's
right," I said. "Again, that's something that could have been
discussed without you having to bid on me for this charity auction."
He
shrugged. "I consider it money well spent. I'm going to be in town for at
least a few more days and heard about the auction. I thought it might be
fun."
"Fun? For you maybe, but not for
me," I muttered.
"Where's
your community spirit?" he teased.
"Don't
you tease me about community spirit," I snapped. "In fact, I doubt if
you even know the meaning of the word anymore."
His smile
disappeared. "Memphis, I'm here now, so can we try to make the best of
it?"
I shook my
head. "We could've done that without you bidding for dates, for crying out
loud!"
It was his
turn to shake his head. "I kind of doubt that. Besides, we need to
talk."
"Talk? No. It's kind of late for that,
don't you think?"
He sighed.
"Look, Memphis, I realize I've made a lot of mistakes—"
"Mistakes?" I broke in, my eyebrows lifting.
"Is that what you call your disappearing act and breaking off contact for
the past eight years? A mistake?"
"I
didn't break off contact," he insisted. "I talked to my mom a couple
times…but I figured that the rest of family didn't want to have anything to do
with me after—"
"After
you just walked out on everyone's lives?" I couldn't help but ask.
"After you walked out on me?" He didn't answer but continued to look
down at me, an unfathomable expression on his face. "Look, Donovan, I
don't mean to make you feel bad, especially right after you've just buried your
father. But to be quite blunt, there's nothing more between us. You left and I
moved on. You've made a life for yourself, and so have I."
"You
get married?" he asked.
I paused,
wondering if I should even answer his question. Then, I decided it wouldn't
serve any purpose not to. "No. What about you?"
"No,"
he said.
I had a
million questions but didn't want to voice them. After all, we were over,
weren't we? He had moved on, and I had just told him that I had. No sense in
dredging up old wounds, opening old scars, and reliving
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