Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “I didn’t. But I will. There just wasn’t an opportunity today and it felt weird bringing it up out of the blue.”
“Because this could just be one date and that’s it,” Marcie suggests.
“I’m already going to ask you for a second date so that’s not it,” I respond, glancing at her quickly and noting the pleased smile on her face. “It’s just sometimes hard to initiate conversation with her about personal things. I’m always afraid I’ll overstep the tenuous trust that we’re building. You don’t think there’s anything wrong with you and I going out, at least as far as Sylvie goes, do you?”
“That’s a good question. And I guess Sylvie is the one who’s going to have to answer that.”
“If she hates the idea…” I let that thought hang in the air because I don’t know the answer.
Marcie does, though. “If she’s against it, we don’t date.”
I don’t like the way that makes me feel, but I know Marcie is right. Nothing matters except Sylvie’s feelings. Deference has to be given to the little girl who has far too many stressors in her life as it is. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
The country club is only a few miles outside of town and when we arrive, the sun has already set on the majestic, three-story white stucco building with stately columns supporting the wide porch spanning the length of the clubhouse. The roof is done in deep blue shingles, and large windows are lit up from the massive chandeliers inside. We walk up to the large double French doors which are opened by an attendant and we are directed to the grand ballroom.
Without hesitation, I reach for Marcie’s hand, tucking it back into the crook of my elbow. I know there are going to be a lot of questions simply because we entered together, but I figure I can knock fifty percent of them out by having her tucked into my side in a clear display of our togetherness for the evening.
The ballroom is filled with elegantly dressed patrons. Membership in the country club isn’t cheap and the people attending this auction are ready to spend money. This area of Kentucky is rich with bourbon and horse money. The saddlebred farms, such as Blackburn, may actually be the smallest portion of that demographic. The real money is in liquor and racehorses. The thoroughbred industry generates massive money, more than saddlebreds ever could, and while we’re multimillionaires, some of the thoroughbred farm owners have billions.
I know the Mardraggons will be here tonight. While they’re inherent assholes, they do give of their money to the community, but I also know they give expecting favors in return, so it’s not all that altruistic. The women will bid, making substantial donations under the guise of buying a bachelor for an evening. It really is a fun event and there will be a lot of laughter tonight as the men get silly on stage, flaunting their prowess to drive up the competition. Trey and Wade will probably be among the biggest fools.
“Let’s get this over with where my family is concerned,” I say.
Marcie digs her heels into the thick carpet, causing me to stop and glance down at her. “Are they going to have a problem with me being here?”
I chuckle and pat the top of her hand. “On the contrary, they will be thrilled by this. Expect doe eyes from my mother.”
Marcie laughs nervously. “Oh… good.”
In addition to the money raised on bachelor bidding, each table in the grand ballroom is sold for an outrageous sum. The Blackburns bought a table that seats eight, so with my parents and siblings, Marcie and I make seven.
I spot my family standing near said table and I start to head that way, but Marcie tugs on my arm. “There’s Michelle. Let me say hello.”
This I have no qualms with because I find it amusing as hell that her sister had been wanting to set me and Marcie up. As we walk over to her, I can’t decide if I should thank her or chastise her for not pushing on this harder.
Michelle DeLeon is as beautiful as Marcie but in a different way. She’s more graceful and sophisticated, cool and sharp at the same time. Marcie vibrates with energy and seems on the verge of wanting to give you a hug. Regardless of the differences, I’ve learned enough to know that the sisters are tight.
Marcie pulls free and hugs Michelle, who returns the embrace and holds tightly. When they break apart, Michelle looks Marcie up and down and says, “You are a vision.” Her eyes slide to me and she asks, “Am I right?”
“You are absolutely right,” I reply, taking Marcie’s hand and putting it back to my elbow. “You look lovely too, Michelle.”