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When the farm matters were over, he would ask her the million-dollar question. Could she ever see herself falling for him, loving him? If so, would she love him enough to become his wife?

Chapter Eleven

Two Months Later

Lindsey was a nervous wreck. It seemed like yesterday, just a few hours ago, when the sheriff and his men had ordered her off her farm. Now, here she was standing next to the auctioneer, signing papers and awaiting the absolute auction.

She glanced around the crowd, but didn’t see any recognizable faces. Where were Seth and Beck? She had spent the morning with them and they’d started their day the same way they started every other day—with a round of hot, ravenous sex.

Now, when she needed them most, where were they?

“There’s my girl.” Aunt Lisa’s voice filled the air. “Look at you standing there all grown up.” She kissed one cheek and then the other. Turning to the beast of a man at her side, she forced a smile and said, “Lindsey, you remember Nathaniel. Don’t you?”

“Of course,” Lindsey said. “It’s been a while, Nathaniel. Always good to see you.”

“You too, darlin’,” Nathaniel said, seemingly uneasy. “Where are those boys of yours?”

“You mean my men?” She waggled her brows to taunt her aunt. “I was about to call them. They should’ve been here by now.”

“Well don’t you worry yourself silly,” Aunt Lisa said, looping her small arm through Nathaniel’s. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

About that time, the crowd hushed. The investors from Farlow’s Real Estate Group pushed through the throng of people with Bonzo leading the way. Nathaniel looked like he could rip a few heads off and he snarled as several of Bonzo’s men passed.

“Now, now, hon. Don’t get your undies in a bunch.” Aunt Lisa waved her hand in front of her face. “You know how possessive he is. He’s still pissed off that I had company when he was out of town.”

“No, I’m pissed off because you had to bring out my shotgun. Why, if you’d fired the first round, you would’ve been flat on your back. That thing has some kick to it. You could’ve hurt yourself.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I didn’t have to fire it, huh?” She winked at Lindsey. “Find me after the sale.”

“I will,” she said, wondering why her aunt was in such a chipper mood.

The auctioneer took the microphone and climbed in the back of a pickup. “We’re going to start off with an attempt to sell the property as a whole. The bank needs $758,000 to clear the debt.”

“Wait a minute,” Lindsey said, waving her hand in front of the auctioneer. “That’s not what was owed on this property.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Beck said, breaking through the crowd and taking long strides to reach the auctioneer. “But a few folks down at Farmer’s Lending felt like we might be able to get our hands on half a million. They wa

nted to start the bid high enough to keep it out of our reach.”

“Beck, no.” Lindsey grabbed his wrist, but he patted her hand and gently moved her aside.

Seth joined her. “He knows what he’s doing. Stay put, Linds.”

“I can’t let you guys do this.”

“Why not?” Seth squeezed her hand. “It’s not like the property isn’t worth it.”

“I can’t let you,” she reiterated, feeling a surge of guilt as she watched Beck take his place by the potential bidders.

Leaning into her, Seth cupped his hand and whispered, “Don’t test us here, hon. Beck and I have the money and we know what we’re willing to pay. Now either stand there quietly and watch this unfold or go on back to our place. We’re not going down without a fight and I don’t think that damn investment group was ready for us.”

“And here we go now,” the auctioneer sang. “We’ll start with eight hundred big ones. Who’ll give us $800,000?”

Beck threw his hand in the air. Bonzo, apparently bidding for the investment group, tossed up his paddle. Smug as usual, he shot Lindsey a wink and a smile, but she barely noticed him after that.

The sale went quickly, the bidding war continued, sometimes jumping a few thousand dollars and sometimes increasing in 10,000-dollar increments. Five interested parties stayed steadfast in their bidding until the auctioneer hollered out, “Any takers at a million five?”

“Got it,” Beck said, throwing his hand up.

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