Page 97 of Falling For You

I stood backstage, shifting nervously from foot to foot in my llama costume. The itchy underside of the faux fur fabric clung to my skin with every movement.

The small dressing area buzzed with excitement, but I was not excited.

In fact, I was ready to fall back into the trough of water again and not get back out.

Singles all over chatted animatedly as they made last-minute adjustments to their ornate and sexy costumes. Every few seconds, a ripple of laughter would escape from someone, and I was pretty sure it was over my costume selection.

Or I was just paranoid.

That was what happened when you dressed as a member of theCamelidaefamily.

Millie’s cheerful, booming voice floated through the velvet curtains as she announced each contestant by a pseudonym and description to the audience.

From where I stood, I could see glimpses of the contestants as they strode onto the stage—each looking glamorous, sexy, and completely poised.

The auction theme was “Masquerade and Mystery,” and everyone else embraced the idea with stunning outfits. Of course, I somehow missed the theme until it was too late. So, slinky black dresses, jewel-encrusted masks, tuxedos, and flirty French maid costumes fluttered on stage with anonymous people underneath.

And then there was me, standing in my ridiculous llama suit, complete with fuzzy ears and a tail that swished when I moved.

Go, Violet.

I glanced at myself in the mirror one last time and cringed at the sight.

What had I been thinking?

Why hadn’t I gone for something at least semi-attractive or even remotely elegant?

Whyin the world had I decided to come to this charity date auction—designed to raise money for Thanksgiving meals—dressed as a giant, awkward llama?

It had seemed funny at the time.

A quirky icebreaker.

After all, this event was supposed to be fun. Wasn’t the whole point to get people laughing to encourage higher bids?

But now, standing backstage and seeing the sheer contrast between myself and the other contestants, I realized that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t be normal.

I wasn’t normal.

The other women looked like they’d stepped out of a magazine shoot—effortlessly gorgeous, with sleek costumes and perfect hair.

They wore vixen-inspired outfits, ballgowns with masks, or flirty maid costumes that had the crowd hollering with approval as they walked on stage.

I could hear the thunderous applause and bids that followed.

They were all poised to raise high bids for charity. I could hear the dollar amounts zipping up.

And me? I looked like I belonged in a petting zoo.

Our petting zoo.

A knot of dread tightened in my stomach, and I briefly considered backing out, sneaking out the back door before Millie could call my name.

No one would miss me, right? Who wanted to bid on a woman dressed as a llama?

But the thought of disappointing Millie kept me rooted to the spot.

She practically strong-armed me into signing up for this auction, which would raise money for Thanksgiving meals for families in need.

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