The Accidental Auction Bid

Rowan McCrae didn’t mind doing hard work.

He minded being told to “smile pretty for the ladies tonight” by two separate grandmothers before eight a.m., but the work itself was fine.

He stood in the community hall, looping a strand of gold lights over a beam while Dottie Wheeler supervised like a sparkling drill sergeant.

“Higher,” she barked.

Rowan lifted the lights one notch.

“Higher.”

He lifted them again.

Dottie squinted. “Hmm. Maybe lower.”

Rowan bit back a laugh. “Dottie, you’re just moving the goalposts to see how long I’ll put up with it.”

“Of course I am,” she said. “You're tall and agreeable. It’s a public service.”

He shook his head, amused, and adjusted the lights anyway. The hall was waking up around him, coffee brewing, raffle tickets being arranged, and cinnamon rolls being consumed at an alarming rate—the usual pre-auction chaos.

But Rowan wasn’t thinking about the auction.

He was thinking about her.

Maren Calloway.

Six months in Sage Hollow and she still walked around like she wasn’t the most interesting thing to happen in this town since the great goat escape in ’09. Rowan had been watching her quietly, patiently waiting for his chance to let his interest be known.

She didn’t fluster him.

He wasn’t shy.

He was just waiting.

For the right moment.

For the right opening.

For her to look at him the way he was already looking at her.

He climbed down the ladder, dusted his hands off, and headed to the front doors to grab another box of lights.

That’s when he saw her.

Through the frosted window, Maren stood beside her truck, coffee mug in hand, head tipped back as she watched the morning light spill across the hill in the distance. The light caught her hair, turning it copper and gold.

She looked so peaceful.

Beautiful in a way that made Rowan’s chest tighten, not with nerves but with certainty.

There you are, he thought.

He didn’t stare.

He didn’t freeze.

He watched her with the quiet confidence of a man who already knew what he wanted.

And who had every intention of getting it.

“Are you just going to stand there staring out the window, or get back to work?” Dottie yelled from across the room.

Rowan grinned and grabbed a box of lights.

The door creaked open as she came inside, brushing snow from her coat. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her braid a little messy, and her eyes were still carrying the softness of the morning.

Dottie elbowed him. “Stop staring at her like she is the main event.”

“She is,” Rowan said easily.

Dottie choked on a laugh. “Lord help her.”

Maren spotted them then.

“Morning,” she said, with a small smile.

Rowan returned it with a grin. “Morning, Maren.”

“Need help with anything?

Rowan held up the box of lights in his arms. “Only if you’re volunteering to help boss me around. Dottie’s already got the job, but she might accept help.”

Dottie gasped. “I don’t boss. I guide.”

“You command,” Rowan corrected.

“I inspire.

“You threatened to take away my cinnamon roll.”

“That’s called motivation.”

Maren laughed, quiet and surprised, and so genuine it hit Rowan like a hard brick to his chest.

He didn’t show it.

He just smiled back, easy and confident.

He lifted the box of lights he was carrying. “You can help me with these, if you want.”

Maren gave a small smile. “Sure, I can do that.”

They worked side by side, the quiet between them comfortable. Every so often, Rowan let his arm brush hers. She didn’t move away.

That was when Rowan decided something. He was going to let Maren know of his interest.

He had waited long enough.

He had no idea that fate would hand him a perfect opening, wrapped in chaos, delivered by accident, and sealed with a gavel.

****

A woman near the stage raised her paddle before the auctioneer finished speaking.

“Two hundred.”

“Oh, sit down, Brenda,” someone yelled. “He hasn’t even turned around yet.”

“He’s got shoulders, “Brenda yelled back. “That’s enough for me.”

The room dissolved into laughter.

Maren tightened her grip on her coffee and slipped through the crowded community hall, keeping close to the wall while bodies packed tighter around the stage. Strings of gold lights glowed overhead, the air was thick with cinnamon, barbecue smoke, and the sound of at least fifty women prepared to financially ruin themselves over one man.

A man carrying a tray of raffle tickets squeezed past her. Someone else nearly backed into her, holding a pie.

“Sorry, honey.”

“It’s ok.”

She aimed for the safest place in the building. The back corner by the coffee station and a stack of chairs that nobody wanted.

Far away from the bachelor auction.

“Maren!”

She winced.

Dottie Wheeler appeared out of nowhere, wearing bright sequins and cowboy boots, gripping two slices of pie in her hands.

“You made it.”

“Barely.”

Dottie shoved one of the plates in her hands. “You're just in time.”

“For what exactly?”

The entire room erupted into screaming.

Maren closed her eyes briefly. “Never mind.”

Onstage, the auctioneer grinned into the microphone. “Ladies of Sage Hollow,” he boomed. “I hope y’all brought her wallets tonight.”

A woman up front yelled, “I brought my savings account!”

More screaming.

Dottie leaned closer. “Rowan finally agreed to do it.”

Maren’s stomach dropped so fast that she almost dropped her pie.

“No.”

“Absolutely, yes.”

The crowd of women rushed towards the stage as soon as Rowan McCrae stepped into view.

The screaming got louder.

Someone wolf-whistled.

Someone else fanned herself dramatically.

A voice from the front shouted. “Take your time turning around, honey.”

Rowan laughed under his breath, head ducking briefly as he stepped fully underneath the stage lights.

Dark button-up shirt.

Sleeves rolled to his elbows.

He had his hands in his pockets.

Looking entirely too comfortable for a man being openly hunted by half the women in town.

Maren looked away immediately.

Too late.

Because Rowan’s gaze had already swept across the room and landed directly on her.

Warm.

Steady.

Amused.

Like he had been looking for her before he looked at anybody else.

Her heart gave one traitorous thud.

Dottie made a sound beside her. “Lord help you.”

“What does that mean?”

“That man’s been gone over you for six months.”

Maren nearly choked on pie. “Excuse me?”

But Dottie was already waving towards the stage while Rowan stood there with lazy confidence.

The auctioneer slapped a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Now this,” he announced, “is the bachelor y’all have been harassing me about since August.”

Women applauded.

One woman stood.

Another lifted her paddle as if she were about to enter battle.

Rowan just smiled slowly, eyes flickering back over to Maren again.

Not lingering long enough for anyone to notice, but Maren did.

Which somehow felt worse.

“Let’s start the bidding at fifty dollars,” the auctioneer called.

“One hundred!” someone immediately called.

“Lord, have mercy,” Dottie whispered, delighted.

“One-fifty!”

“Two hundred!”

A blonde stood up and pointed at Rowan. “That man repaired my fence in a snowstorm. “Two-fifty!”

The room roared.

“You're married, Denise!”

“Happily,” Denise yelled back. “But I’m not dead.”

Even Rowan laughed at that, head tipped back briefly.

Maren looked down and focused hard on eating her pie like she wasn’t aware that Rowan McCrae existed in a ten-mile radius.

Three hundred!”

“Three-fifty!”

“Four!”

“This is insane,” Maren muttered.

Beside her, Dottie cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. “He makes homemade pancakes!”

The crowd lost its mind.

Maren stared at her. “You are part of the problem.”

“I am part of the fundraiser.”

On stage, Rowan’s grin deepened, but his attention kept drifting back to the rear corner of the room.

Back to her.

Which made no sense.

Women were practically throwing retirement funds at the man.

Meanwhile, Rowan looked like the only thing entertaining him was Maren Calloway trying not to make eye contact with him.

“Four-fifty!”

“Five hundred!”

Maren pressed her fingers briefly to her forehead.

The gravel slammed down with a crack.

“Sold!”

Silence hit her first.

Then the screaming.

Maren froze.

Slowly, carefully, she lowered her hand from her forehead.

The auctioneer pointed directly at her.

“Oh,” Dottie breathed out. “Well. That’s hilarious.”

The room exploded.

“No way!”

“Are you kidding me!”

“Oh, this is better than last year!”

Maren blinked at the stage, then at the auctioneer, then very slowly at the paddle in Dottie’s hand.

Dottie immediately hid both hands behind her back. “Don’t look at me. This is between you and fate.”

“I did not bid on him.”

“You raised your hand.”

“I touched my forehead.”

“Honestly,” Dottie said, fighting a grin. “That’s kind of on you.”

Maren’s face burned so hot she could probably burn the place down. Around her, women twisted in their seats to stare openly.

One of them sighed dramatically, “Lucky.”

Lucky was not the word coming to mind.

On stage, the auctioneer wiped tears from his eyes from laughing too hard. “Well, now,” he wheezed into the microphone. “Looks like Rowan McCrae is officially off the market for one evening.”

The crowd booed.

A woman up front pointed accusingly at Maren. “You weren’t even trying.”

“I KNOW!” Maren blurted.

Which made everyone laugh harder.

She wanted the floor to open beneath her.

Instead, Rowan stepped away from the microphone stand and started down the stairs at the side of the stage.

Unhurried.

Calm.

Entirely too pleased with himself.

The crowd parted for him automatically, people grinning and elbowing each other as he crossed the room.

Maren’s pulse climbed higher with every step.

“You look nervous,” Dottie whispered.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“No, you're not. You're going to date a cowboy.”

“Dottie.”

“Oh, hush, that man's been staring at you for six months.”

Before Maren could recover from that statement, Rowan was standing in front of her.

Close enough, she could smell cedar soap and leather.

Close enough that the noise in the room faded around her.

His mouth curved slowly at her still raised hand.

“Well,” he drawled softly. “This is the best thing to happen to me all year.”

Maren stared at him. “I didn’t bid on you.”

Behind Rowan, someone yelled. “That’s not what the gavel says.”

The room burst into laughter again.

Rowan’s grin widened slightly, as if he was enjoying every second of this disaster. “Sweetheart, there were witnesses.”

“I was scratching my forehead.”

“Convenient timing.”

“It itched.”

“Mm-mm”

Dottie made a choking sound beside her that suspiciously resembled laughter.

Maren pointed at Rowan. “You need to tell them that this was an accident.”

Instead of answering, Rowan glanced back to the stage where the auctioneer was still grinning.

Then he looked back at her. Warm. Easy. Unbothered.

“Nah,” he said. “I think I’m gonna accept my fate.”

The women around them groaned dramatically.

A silver-haired woman up front yelled. “Rowan McCrae, if you waste this opportunity, your mama will haunt you!”

“Mama would probably help plan the date,” he yelled back.

“She absolutely would,” someone answered immediately.

Maren looked between them like she found herself hallucinating.

“This cannot be happening.”

Rowan leaned closer. “Feels pretty real from where I’m standing.”

Her pulse skipped again, annoyingly hard.

His eyes stayed fixed on her like the crowded room didn’t exist anymore. Like none of the other women calling his name mattered in the slightest.

And that made her more nervous than the auction itself.

“You can back out,” she said quickly.

The teasing in his expression softened just a fraction. “You want me to?”

For one terrifying second, the room quieted around them.

Then Dottie, stage whispered. “Say no, idiot.”

Maren closed her eyes for a second.

When she opened them again, Rowan was still looking at her with that same patient, amused smile.

Waiting.

Like he had all night.

Maren should say yes.

She should laugh it off, hand the paddle to someone else, and escape before this gets any more humiliating.

Instead, she heard herself say. “No.”

Rowan’s brows lifted slightly. “No, what?”

“No, I don’t want you to back out.”

Dottie grabbed Maren’s arm enough to bruise. “I knew it!”

Before Maren could say anything else, the auctioneer pointed at them from the stage. “Y’all can work out the details later. We still have bachelor’s to sell.”

The room laughed.

“So,” he lowered his voice slightly as the next bachelor climbed on the stage behind him. “When am I taking you out?”

Maren blinked. “You're taking me out?”

“Well, yeah,” his shoulders lifted in an easy shrug. You accidentally bought the date. The least I can do is plan it.”

Dottie leaned closer. “Say yes, before another woman starts another bidding war for him.”

Rowan shook his head, smiling. “Tomorrow night?”

Maren just looked at him. She opened her mouth, and nothing came out.

Which was ridiculous, she talked for a living. She negotiated contracts. Handled customers. Once, she argued with a feed supplier over refunding an entire shipment without raising her voice.

But apparently, all Rowan McCrae had to do was look at her like that, and her brain packed up and left.

Dottie pinched her arm. Hard.

“Ow.”

“That was your answer window closing.”

Maren spoke up finally. “Tomorrow is kind of soon.”

“That’s generally how tomorrow works.”

Maren’s eyes narrowed.

Rowan’s smile grew wider.

Behind them, the auctioneer yelled. “Do I hear fifty on Gerald Tucker?”

Dottie tapped her arm. “I am going to go bid on my own man. Don’t screw this up!”

Maren just rolled her eyes as Dottie walked away, then looked back up at Rowan.

“You don’t have to look so nervous about it,” he said.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Sweetheart, you just stared at me ten full seconds without blinking.”

Heat climbed into her face again.

The room around them faded again beneath the steady warmth of his attention.

Tomorrow night.

One date.

That was manageable.

Probably.

Maren exhaled. “Fine.”

Rowan’s brows lifted. “Fine, yes or fine no?”

Maren took a deep breath. “Yes. Tomorrow night.”

The next bachelor walked on stage to scattered applause while the auctioneer yelled something about “excellent calf-roping skills.”

Rowan leaned closer so she could hear him.

“I will pick you up at six.”

“You're very committed to this.”

“You spent five hundred on me,” his mouth curved. “Seems rude not to commit.”

Her face warmed again. “You are never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Rowan smiled at her and took a step back.

“See you tomorrow night for our date.”

Maren didn’t remember much after Rowan walked away. She heard the background noise of screaming women and Dottie calling out bids. Someone almost dropped a whole pie on her boots, but she just stepped back without thinking, just missing the mess.

After the auction wrapped up, her nerves were still fried, and her face still seemed hot. She was contemplating faking a serious illness to get out of tomorrow night.

She slipped outside, took a deep breath, and started walking towards her truck.

“Were you planning on sneaking out without saying goodbye?”

She spun around and noticed Rowan leaning up against his truck. Hands in his pockets, looking handsome as usual and still so proud of himself. He pushed off and started walking slowly towards her.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” She said with a gulp.

He arched a brow. “Looked like it.”

“You ok?” he whispered.

“Honestly? No,” she said. “I accidentally bought you in front of the whole town.”

“You did,” he grinned.

“And everyone is going to talk about it.”

“They absolutely are.”

She groaned. “This is a nightmare.”

Rowan’s mouth curved up again. “Worked out in my favor.”

Maren frowned. “What do you mean?”

Rowan took a step closer. Maren’s chest felt tight again. She almost couldn’t breathe.

His face went serious as his hand came up and brushed a stray curl behind her ear.

“I have been waiting for an opportunity to let you know of my interest. Tonight, fate stepped in.”

Maren looked up at him with surprise. “Really? You could have any woman in town. Even the married ones.”

He grinned at that. “I am looking at the beautiful woman I want. Will you go out with me, Maren? Tomorrow, six o’clock?”

It felt like her heart was in her throat, and she nodded and said. “Yes.”

Rowan stepped back with a confident grin. “See you tomorrow evening.”