Ruby grips my hand and squeals.
I blink. “What package?”
Ruby whispers, “Oh, it’s a whole thing. A weeklong date experience. Festive activities. Cozy outings. The lodge.”
“That sounds …”
“Expensive? Yes. Popular? Extremely.” Ruby bounces once in her seat. “This is going to be amazing.”
Janice continues, “Please welcome … Ethan Kinkaid!”
The crowd gasps. People crane their necks. Somewhere, a woman actually fans herself. A tall, broad shadow steps onto the stage. And then — wow!
He’s so handsome that it’s intimidating. Rugged with dark hair, shorter beard, and flannel stretched across shoulders that should not be legal in winter or any season. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.
Ruby whispers, “Damn. And to think he’s been hiding in the mountains.”
I can’t breathe. He scans the crowd once, his expression somewhere between bored and murderous. Our eyes don’t meet. Thank God. I’d die on the spot.
Janice beams. “We’ll start the bidding at fifty dollars!”
Hands go up instantly. Women shout numbers. The air buzzes with competition.
Ruby leans in. “See? Fun.”
I nod numbly, clutching my hands in my lap. No bidding. No lifting my paddle. No accidentally … One of my customers from the shop in the aisle waves. I raise my hand to wave back. The auctioneer sees it.
“Bid of three hundred eighty-five! Thank you, second row!”
“No, oh no.” I start panicking, lowering my hand.
A woman across the aisle raises hers sharply. “Ninety!” Without thinking and with pure reflex, like I’m counteracting the social awkwardness of waving at someone who wasn’t waving at me — my hand twitches up again. The auctioneer pounces. “Three Ninety-Five from the lady in green!”
Ruby makes a strangled noise. “Harp …”
I jerk my hand down, mortified.
“Do I hear four hundred?” the auctioneer calls.
The competitive woman scowls at me, but she doesn’t lift her paddle. Now, I’m in full panic. Accidental paddle lift panic.
Before my brain catches up, Janice claps her hands. The auctioneer slams the gavel.
“SOLD! To the lovely lady in the green dress for three-hundred ninety-five dollars!”
Silence. My stomach drops. My soul leaves my body. Ruby’s jaw hits the ground.
I stare at my traitorous hand.
“Oh no,” I whisper. “No no no.”
Why do my hands act independently during moments of social distress?
Ruby grabs my wrist. “Harper. You just bought a mountain man.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. This cannot be happening.
I open them. It is definitely happening.
