A Christmas Baby For The Cowboy. Deb Kastner
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“Cash Coble, front and center, please.”
Jo Spencer, the bubbly elderly redhead serving as the auctioneer, had more energy in her pinky finger than Cash had in his whole body, and her warbling voice made his head throb mercilessly.
Cash, a rodeo bareback rider only recently returned to his hometown of Serendipity, Texas, winced at the high-pitched feedback of the microphone that followed his name being called over the loudspeaker. The screechy whine drilled straight into the space between his eyes.
He was the next bachelor on the docket at Serendipity’s First Annual Bachelors and Baskets Auction in the middle of June.
But if he had his way, he would be anywhere but here.
The last thing he wanted right now was to display himself for all his hometown to see. He’d left Serendipity in the dust when his rodeo career had taken off and he hadn’t been home since—with good reason.
Now he had no choice. Even if he’d rather slink off to the nearest bar and drink himself into forgetfulness.
“Remember,” said his publicist, Martin Brandt, stepping back a pace as he surveyed Cash from the tip of his boots to the top of his hat. “You get up there and turn on your cowboy charm. Don’t forget to smile. I have a photographer from Rodeo Times here to document this, so you’d better make good out there if you want your career back.”
Cowboy charm.
That was what had got him into this predicament in the first place. His once-handsome face and enormous ego.
He scoffed under his breath. There wasn’t one blessed thing that could even remotely be considered charmed about his life right now.
What was the opposite of charmed, anyway?
Pete Drexler grinned and held up his camera as Martin leaned up on tiptoe and adjusted Cash’s black cowboy hat, presumably to reveal more of his eyes. The middle-aged publicity agent was a diminutive fellow who stood no taller than five feet even. Cash, at six-one, towered over him.
But what Martin lacked for in size, he made up for in vigor, and he was one of the best agents in the business, with all the attitude of a T. rex in obtaining the best for his clients.
Cash hated being bossed around by the man. Sometimes he had to grit his teeth to fight from barking back, especially when he was feeling as physically out of sorts as he was right now. But Martin was the only one in the rodeo world who hadn’t dumped him after all that had recently happened to him, and Cash appreciated his loyalty.
Cash’s advertising sponsors had dropped him like a hot potato when his life had turned into a downward spiral after his best friend, Aaron Emerson, had died.
Martin could easily have done the same. Having Cash as a client couldn’t be good for his reputation, and yet Martin had persisted, believing in Cash when he didn’t even believe in himself. There was a lot to be said for that kind of commitment.
Martin had this inspired idea that Cash could prove himself worthy of advertising support and save his public image by participating in this bachelor auction, not only because his agent expected Cash to be popular with the ladies, but because it was for charity.
What better way to show that Cash was a changed man?
Cash didn’t blame his sponsors for dropping him. Carrying a secret darker and thicker than tar affected every area of his life, from blackouts after nights of hard drinking to losing his stamina on the rodeo circuit.
He was a down-and-out, has-been cowboy, and deserving every bit of what was coming to him. Up to and including the ridicule and humiliation he would suffer as he stood on an auction block with little to no expectations of being bid on.
When he’d been a winner, nobody blamed him for his actions. Young cowboys were expected to let off steam. He got a pass.
But now?
Who would want him?
A big fat nobody. That’s who.
Yet he had to try. Rodeo was the only thing left for him.
If he lost that, well...
He would lose everything.
The good folks in Serendipity had gotten together to raise funds for a new senior center and hospice. With such an outstanding cause, townsfolk had come out in droves and were opening their hearts and pocketbooks with cheerful generosity.
The bachelor auction, where a single man would offer his particular expertise and skill set to the winner, had originally been Jo’s idea, but it hadn’t taken long for married men to sign on, as well.
Did