“Well you’re no spring chicken, my darlin’. But I would’ve spent all my money to win you.”

Their corniness has me rolling my eyes.

“You tryin’ to sugar me up now?” Dad asks.

Then I hear Kaitlyn, my little sister, groan in the front row. She’s next to Hadleigh and Kenzie, and they laugh at her expense.

Finally, my parents quit their act and begin the auction.

“I may be biased as his mother, but this first guy is a looker. At six-foot-three, Knox Bishop is tan, muscular, and will keep you on your toes just like his daddy.”

“Mom…” I scold as I walk down the runway, giving the ladies my best flirty expression. I know these dates that we have to go on aren’t real, but the money is for a good cause, so I try to earn as much as I can for the food bank. Plus, I know it makes Grandma Bishop happy to see so many actively participating to win a night with the one and only. While Eldorado, Texas, is a small town, I’m rarely disappointed by the women who’ve won me over the years.

“But he’ll also keep ya laughing for days.” Mom winks at me. “Let’s start the bid at fifty.”

I strut around, tipping my cowboy hat at the ladies going wild. A dozen paddles fly up at once, including Hadleigh’s. She’s a nurse at the hospital and usually has to work, so this is the first time in years she’s made it. Apparently, she told Kane she planned to bid on both of us so neither of us felt left out. Though truthfully, I don’t care if she tries to win me. I’ve never worried about not getting a date.

As soon as the squealing fills the room, Hadleigh looks around in horror, and I bite back a smile. Apparently, she underestimated her competition.

Mom ups the bid to seventy-five, then one hundred, and it quickly shoots up to one fifty. Seconds later, it’s at two hundred, then two fifty. Jesus, they’re relentless.

Someone in the crowd shouts, “Three hundred!” I recognize Sarah Cooke’s voice. She’s older, and some of my cousins don’t like her. Shit just got a lot more interesting.

“That bitch!” I hear Hadleigh curse. She’s pissed, and it looks like she’s sweating.

I won’t deny that I like the attention and enjoy witnessing them fighting for me. Grinning, I glance at Mom, who ups it to three fifty.

All but two paddles lower—Hadleigh’s and Sarah’s.

“Goddammit,” Hadleigh grinds out.

“Three seventy-five?” Mom asks.

Hadleigh shoots Sarah a death glare as if to dare her to keep bidding. I’m not sure why she’s so hell-bent on winning, but I’m grateful as hell not to be stuck with Sarah.