“You got lunch.” I exchange a glance with Milo, who looks equally intrigued. “Like a date?”
“Like lunch.” But there’s color on Elijah’s cheeks now, and he’s suddenly very interested in the label on his beer bottle. “She hadn’t eaten. I hadn’t eaten. Maeve had sandwiches.”
“That’s a lot of justification for ‘just lunch,’“ Milo says.
“Drop it.”
“I’m just saying?—”
“I said drop it.” Elijah’s voice has an edge now. Interesting.
Well, well, well.
Milo’s been openly into Tessa since she moved to town three years ago. That’s not news to anyone. He flirts with her every time she comes into the bar, and she pretends to be annoyed and tries not to smile. It’s practically a town tradition at this point.
But Elijah?
Quiet, keeps-to-himself, barely-speaks-to-anyone Elijah?
I watch him not watching me, and something clicks into place. The way he always volunteers to make pieces for her events. How he knows her coffee order. The vases he carved for the Valentine’s auction that were definitely more elaborate than necessary.
Son of a bitch. Elijah Smith has feelings for Tessa Lang.
Which makes three of us.
Not that I’m going to think about that right now.
“She’s stressed,” Elijah continues, still studying his beer. “About the auction. She only has seven bachelors confirmed.”
“Eight would be better,” Milo adds, and they’re both looking at me now.
“I’m not doing it.”
“Why not?” Milo leans forward. “And don’t give me the prize pig bullshit. What’s the real reason?”
The real reason is sitting in my chest like a stone, and I’m not drunk enough to let it out.
The real reason is that the only person I want bidding on me is Tessa herself. And she can’t. She’s organizing the damn thing. Conflict of interest or whatever.
So what’s the point?
Standing up on that stage, letting random women bid on me, knowing she’s just watching from the sidelines with her clipboard, probably not even caring?—
I can’t do it. I can’t stand there and pretend I don’t want her to fight for me the way I’ve been fighting not to want her for three years.
“I just don’t want to,” I say finally. “Drop it.”
Milo and Elijah exchange a look. The kind of look that says they’re not buying it but they’re going to let it go. For now.
“Fine.” Milo settles back in his chair. “But when she finally corners you and you can’t escape, don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
“She’s not going to corner me.”
“She absolutely is. That woman is relentless.” He grins. “It’s kind of hot, actually.”
“You think everything is hot.”
“Not everything. Just competent women who could probably kill me with a well-organized spreadsheet.”
