“Oh, I must have forgotten to pay the bill.”

“Emilia Kimberly Strong.”

“I’m fine, Mom. I get paid this Friday.”

Irritation crawled up my spine like a swarm of ants in search of a picnic. Like she had the right to get upset with me for lying to her when she was lying to me in the first place! I’d seen the notice of mortgage default the last time I was at home. Second warning, third. Late fees.

She was barely afloat with the ranch. The entire time I’d grown up she’d never had a mortgage. She’d bought the ranch outright when I was just a baby with the money that the Biological Sperm Donor—my not-so-affectionate term for the male who had fathered me—had paid her to go away and have her baby somewhere else.

“Mia, you’d tell me if you needed anything, wouldn’t you?” Mom, you’d tell me if you were about to be turned out by the bank, wouldn’t you? I longed to reply with those words but as usual, lacked the courage to even bring it up.

The ranch—a sort of cross between a guest “dude” ranch and a western-themed B and B—was Mom’s livelihood. But she hadn’t been able to run it properly since the cancer diagnosis and treatment. So she’d had to take out a mortgage to help cover her medical bills.

I managed my fake-bright voice again. “Of course, of course. Love ya!”

“We haven’t even talked—what—”

And damned if the call waiting didn’t click through at that moment. I checked the ID Thank you, Heath! If I could reach through the phone wire and kiss him, I would. I loved that guy.

“Mom, Heath is calling through and I think it’s pretty important. Can I call you back?”

“I’ll call you. It’s long distance.”

“Okay. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Tell him I said ‘hi’ and I’m still waiting for him to come up with you next time so I can see him.”

“Sure, sure. Love you, Mom.” And I clicked off to take the waiting call, took a deep breath and sat up.

“Dude.”

“Dollface.”

“What’s up?”

“I got it narrowed down to two guys. I’m going to meet with both of them within the next few days.”

“They’re in the area?”

“One of them doesn’t live too far away, actually. The other one is back east but he’s flying out on business this Thursday. I can meet him then.”

My heart kicked up to high-speed velocity. “Okay. What—what are they like?”

“The younger guy is only sixty-two—”

I tensed. “What?”

“Kidding.”

I sat back in relief. Shoulda known. “Asshole.”

“The third guy was kinda up there. Almost fifty. He was a ‘no’ based on other criteria, too. The younger guy is only a few years older than me. The other one is in his thirties. Pretty yummy. I’d do him, but you know I like blonds.”

So the younger guy wasn’t blond. “What else can you tell me?”

“Rich as hell, of course. Both keenly interested, especially after I sent them the face shots.”

I rolled my eyes. Aside from his many other technical achievements—Heath designed and built websites for his day job—his beloved pastime was digital photography. And he was very gifted at it. He was the one who’d insisted, when I’d cooked up this crazy scheme in the first place, on dressing me up in a bikini (one I bought at Anthropologie and ended up returning because it was way beyond my price range). He took snapshots of me on the rocks of the jetty at Corona Del Mar beach.

The pictures he’d posted on the auction website were from the neck down. I guess I had a nice figure even if my breasts were pretty small. But I was on the taller side, which gave me the side effect of long legs. Nevertheless, I’d been pretty sure that my lack of surgical enhancement or fake bake tan would affect the results of the auction. But apparently that wasn’t the case.

Despite how much I knew it was time to get it over with and just lose it, it wasn’t just a matter of surrendering my virginity to the guy willing to pay the most. I had a carefully laid-out plan in place. First he’d have to submit to a thorough screening by my “bouncer.”

“Yes, I’m going to have to find a way to appropriate the one who doesn’t win you.”

I laughed. “Let me know how that works out for you. Then again, maybe not. I’d rather not know.”

“I’m meeting the Californian guy tomorrow for lunch in Irvine. After I meet the New Yorker, I’ll be in touch. I asked them both for medical records and I’m having some background checks run.”




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