Dad Bods and Blizzards (Dad Bod Christmas #1)

3. Three

Three

Naomi

My sweats are just a little wet and dirty from climbing down the oak tree, but my spirit is bruised and fragile after finding out my dad wants to sell me. I make it halfway to the club before I pull into the Walmart parking lot for an existential crisis.

Snippets of conversations I’ve overheard my father having click into place. He’s been talking to someone about a large loan. He’s ranted about needing time. He’s cut more and more conversations short when I walk into a room.

I let my blissful ignorance protect me.

And while I’d love to continue freaking out in the parking lot, if the roads get any worse, I’ll be stuck. I grab my keys and study the saying on the keychain I chose today—the wild day I planned on waitressing at the auction without telling my father.

Well-behaved women rarely make history. It’s one of my favorite sayings, although I haven’t stood much of a chance to make history yet.

I suck it up and brave the worsening road conditions to get to the club.

But despite the fact that luck may be a lady, that lady isn’t me. Shortly before I arrive at the club, the women who were supposed to be auctioned ran into car trouble and canceled. While I was wiping tears on the sleeve of my oversized hoodie, new virgins were chosen from the waitressing pool… making history.

Everyone knows how the Christmas Cherry Auctions end—the guys get the girl and happily ever afters ensue. Money troubles… gone. The only reason giving up this evening’s tips would be worthwhile.

Maybe not the only reason. It’s also the perfect opportunity for me to have sex in a controlled environment—where I’m guaranteed to have an excellent first experience and take away any value my father has decided my sexual history—or lack thereof—holds.

Removing my elegant aubergine waitressing dress from the rack, I fight back jealousy. I’d rather it be one of the sexy red and white virgin dresses. But it’s not about the dress.

I’m jealous of the lucky women getting on stage tonight, choosing to sell their virginity to the highest bidder in exchange for being promised a lot of orgasms.

They are in control while I flounder.

I cut myself a smidge of slack. Their fathers aren’t locking them in their bedrooms as part of a business deal. And maybe he’s not selling me for sex, but I can’t imagine what other value he thinks I have.

I make a silent vow to channel the energy of these bold women and make the most of my circumstances to take control of my life… make history. Someday. But tonight, I’ll make a ton of money in tips.

Hanging my dress beside one of the pristine white vanities with lots of lights around the mirror, I commit myself to making the most of my circumstances.

By the time I’ve fancied myself up, it’s time to get straight to work being the most vibrant, enchanting waitress I can. No shame in patting an ego to loosen the wallet.

At Keep Yer Belly Full , my goal is to upgrade ones into tens. With this crowd, I hope to change tens into hundreds.

But a conversation the waitresses turned virgin auctionees are having catches my attention. Jasmine is opening a line of bikini barista coffee shops. I’ve heard tips are outstanding in those—and that could be daily instead of annual.

No better time to honor my vow and make the most of my circumstances. I approach Jasmine. “Can I ask you about the bikini barista thing?”

All of the women turn, making me the center of their attention. I don’t think they mean to do it, but they intimidate me. I pick at the lace neckline of my dress.

“Yeah, I’m opening a line of coffee shops. Need a job?” Jasmine asks.

Seriously? Can it be that easy? I bite my lip, hesitating before I overcommit. “I already have one job, but I could use another. Is it—being a bikini barista—safe?”

“Safety is part of my personal commitment to my employees. We’ll have cameras and rules. And the tips are insane based on the business models I’m following.”

Jasmine’s self-assurance is uncanny. We’re about the same age, but she seems so much more adult-ish than me. I listen in awe and cringe internally. I have to grow up.

Then my legs go weak, and Jasmine’s voice fades. Across the room, contrasting all of the fancy suits and tuxedos, is a group of men wearing flannel shirts and jeans. My heart skips a beat. My sex aches. And my mind is in chaos. Why am I so turned on by their dad bods?

Apparently, my attraction to Chief Hopper from Stranger Things wasn’t a one-off.

Deep down, I just want to be loved and cared for. Does that mean I’m spoiled?

“You okay?” Jasmine asks. I struggle to stop staring, and she continues, “They’d be a catch.”

Embarrassed, since I don’t want to infringe on their auction prospects, I shift my gaze to the floor. “That would solve…” I let the words trail off when I realize I said it out loud.

“They can solve it three times over,” Sabrina jokes, only partially understanding what I’m referring to.

Attempting to embrace Jasmine’s energy, I say, “Yeah. They’re so rugged, so beastly.”

“You should go talk to them.”

“We can’t support the charity if you undermine the auction.” Lazovski’s voice comes from behind me. He’s the owner of the Aubergine Affair and took over the Christmas Cherry Auction when it became obvious the men from previous years weren’t buying the women to help with holiday chores as originally intended.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to undermine it.” I hope he doesn’t kick me out.

“More importantly, I can’t protect you outside of the auction and the contract. Want to sign up?”

Me? I’m too shocked to speak. The men are so thick and burly. And look at me like they want me. Not the cheap winks from men at the diner. I feel like these men know me.

Jasmine misunderstands my hesitation. “There were originally supposed to be four women. I bet the last dress will fit you. Plus, he’s right. There’s an immediate termination clause in the contract, buyers and virgins agree to it, and you get Lazovski’s personal number in case anything goes wrong.”

He turns to me. “Are you a virgin?”

I nod, still unable to process that I’m being offered the choice. If I have sex here with witnesses, I can negate the value my father put on my virginity. And an opt-out clause… I maintain control.

Jasmine grabs my hands. “Do it. I’ll help you get their bid.”

If I’ve ever been offered a chance to take control and make the most of my circumstances, that time is now—and maybe I can even make a little history by securing my own reverse harem. I’ll never have to work for tips again. “Okay.”

“You go sign the contract and get dressed. I’ll let them know you hope they’re up for an expensive night.”

The moment is so surreal, I might be in shock as I’m led to the room where I’ll sign the contract and change clothes.

“Get your hand off me, Griz,” a deep voice growls, snapping me out of my stupor.

I glance toward the voice. It’s one of the flannel-wearing dad bods I was drooling over.

Griz. Am I about to auction myself to the men my father wants to sell me to?