"Yeah," I say, "of course. I'm helping with the Ladies’ Support Society."
"Ladies’ Society?" he asks, frowning.
"You haven't heard of it?"
"No, I haven't. I've only been here six months, but I suppose you've only been here one."
"Oh, I've lived here on and off my whole life and, well, every time I'm back in town, I work with the Ladies’ Support Society. My friends Rachel and Sarah help run the auction committee, so of course I offered to help. My aunt Ella volunteers with the LSS too."
"So what are you doing for the Ladies’ Society tomorrow?"
"The auction," I say.
"Auction?" he repeats. "Sorry. You're going to have to tell me more."
"Well, are you going to the barn raising tomorrow?"
"Yeah. All us cowboys here at the Callaway ranch are going. I figured I'd just show up, put in some hard work. But I didn't realize there was an auction involved."
"Well, every Valentine's Day the LSS picks a different person in town to raise a barn for. A way to show love to someone in the community."
Cole nods. "Yeah. I heard that part."
"Well, after the dirty work's done, we have an auction of picnic baskets."
"Picnic baskets?" he asks, looking over at me.
I laugh. "Well, they're special baskets. Every lady who helps with the Society makes her own basket. And we all kind of try and outdo one another, with good homecooked food and fresh pies and everything. Anyways, each basket belongs to a different lady, and they all get auctioned off to guys who helped with the barn. And the highest bidder on each one, they're our date."
"Your date?" His eyebrows lift, interested.
"Yeah," I say with a grin. "I know it's kind of old-fashioned, but Plain has been doing it for at least 100 years. We’ll auction off the baskets, and whichever volunteer wins mine will get himself cleaned up and then pick me up for dinner and we'll have a picnic. And then we'll go to the dance."
"Dance? Okay. I guess I missed this memo. So I bid on a basket and then whoever made that meal is both my dinner date and my date to the dance?"
"You're catching on quick, Cole. I know it sounds silly, maybe, but it's just a community thing. Eat dinner together, go to the dance. It's a good time. There's always a decent bluegrass band playing. And the dance is held in the barn that's been raised that day. It's tradition."
"You go most years?"
I nod. "Yeah, since I was 18. You can't have an auction basket unless you're an adult and single. And so I've gone the last three years. I'm 21 now."
"I see," he says. "And who did you go with last year?"
I press my lips together. "I went with Brady Mackey."
"The banker?" Cole asks.
"How do you know him?"
"He helped me get some land here in town."
"I didn't know you had land. What are you doing with it?"
We pull up to the ranch house, and the conversation could end politely, but now I kind of want to know where it might go. I'm curious. Cole has land?
"Yeah. I'm working on some land to build a house, trying to put down some roots. Before I came here, I was kind of working from ranch to ranch and I felt like maybe it was time to settle down somewhere."
"Then you picked Plain?"
"I already had the job offer from your uncle and I got a good deal on the land."
"Well, it sounds like Brady helped you out pretty good then."
Cole snorts. "No, he was ruthless. Got me a deal, sure. But I wouldn't work with him again." He frowns. "Did you go out with him again?"
"I didn't. I left right after the dance to go back home and haven’t been here since," I admit, remembering that night with Brady one year ago.
He was intense and I knew what he wanted, but I was sure as heck not going to give him my virginity, especially not just because he bought my picnic basket. He's not my type.
And I know I say cowboys are not my type, but bankers aren't my type either.
I just want someone who makes me feel safe. Someone who makes me feel like I'm not alone.
Growing up was so hard. I was always moving and getting shuffled around, coming back to my aunt and uncle's house when the options ran out.
After high school, I took courses at the community college to become a bookkeeper but kept living in my pa’s trailer to keep an eye on him. But that went sideways a month ago when he scared me real bad after a night of drinking.
I don't tell Cole all this, of course. He is looking at me with those deep brown eyes—smoky and sultry—and he has no idea what his eyes do to me.
They make me feel things I don’t want to feel.