That possibility twists in my stomach like a blade. I can practically feel it—the awkward shuffle, the forced laughter, the pity glances I wouldn’t even be able to see. Just feel. And God, the embarrassment would live in my bones forever.
The word "sold" slices through my haze of panic. "And we have a winner, going to the gentleman for $500. Come claim your blind kiss prize."
Applause erupts, jolting me back to the moment. I imagine Honey's victory, her lips meeting Milo's, and I feel both relief and envy. Relief that she got what she wanted, and envy because my fate still hangs in the balance.
"Now let’s get started with blind kiss number two," he announces, and I can almost feel the crowd leaning in. "She's here straight from the city, boys."
I draw a breath, and each second stretches, my thoughts a carousel of wild horses galloping faster and faster.
"Do I have $50?" the auctioneer asks, and it’s silent.
"I have $50," he finally says, and relief pries at the edges of my anxiety. There's interest—a small victory, but it's something. A pulse beats in my fingertips as it continues—sixty, seventy, and climbing.
Then suddenly, the world narrows, fading away until all I'm left with is my thoughts behind my blindfold and the white noise of my own panic. I'm floating in nothingness until I hear his last words echo in my mind.
“One thousand dollars to the gentleman in the back."
I jolt, the words detonating in the air, slamming through my chest. Agrand? For a kiss? Did he really just sayone thousand? Someone thinks I'm worth that?
The crowd goes weirdly quiet, like they’re just as shocked as I am. I sit up straight, straining to hearsomething—a laugh, a gasp, a just kidding from the crowd—but all I get is silence thick enough to chew on. My heart’s doing cardio in my chest, thumping out a rhythm that sounds suspiciously like,Who the hell just dropped that kind of cash on you?
The woman told me to picture prince charming. Sure. Great idea. Except my brain’s too busy short-circuiting tosummon a single smoldering gaze or perfectly tousled haircut. Nope—just a faceless blob of mystery and thewhy me thoughts.
And then I hear it.
Boots. Crunching against dirt. Getting closer.
Oh God. Here we go.
They stop right in front of me, and I barely have time to think before a warm hand brushes a loose strand of hair away from my temple. The contact is simple—but it shoots straight down my spine like lightning. His fingers are rough, maybe a little unsure as they tilt my chin up.
And then his lips find mine.
Andholy fucking shit.
The kiss is nothing like I expected. It’s not awkward or rushed. It’s steady. Intentional. It crashes through my nerves like it knows exactly what it’s doing. Like this person has done this a thousand times—withme.But he hasn’t.
Every thought I had—every fear, every awkward what-if—just disappears. Gone. Poof.
All that exists is someone on the other side of the darkness. This kiss. And the deeply crushing certainty that I’ll never be the same after it. His lips are softer than I expected, especially from a man with calloused hands, but the way he holds me—firm, steady, like he knows exactly how strong he is—undoes me. There’s sweetness in his breath, danger in the power he’s holding back, and a craving I can’t shake.
I inhale deeply, and there it is—a familiar scent. It's almost like a masculine rainforest shower. I can’t place it, but it feels like something I should know. Something that fits, even if I don’t know why. For one reckless heartbeat, I want to lean in more, to let this stranger lift me out of this chair so we can continue exploring this. But just as quickly asit started, he’s gone, and the loss is almost enough to break me.
Applause erupts around us, and I picture some cowboy bowing to the audience. I mean, I almost clap for him. Harrison never kissed me that way, he could never stir such a reaction—no one has actually. Until now.
My fingers brush my lips, like I can still feel where he was. Was that real?
"Alright, sugar," the woman's voice returns, a hint of mischief in her tone. The blindfold lifts, light floods my vision, and suddenly the world is real again. The auction continues, highlighting the next prize.
I’m wrecked, standing frozen while the whole fair keeps buzzing around me like nothing happened. My lips are still on fire, my head is spinning, and I can’t stop scanning the crowd hoping I’ll catch him slipping away. But he’s gone. Just… gone.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping it was Trouble. God, I want it to be him. But I know he’s gone. I know what he said—that he wouldn’t kiss me. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because of Knox.
So why does it feel like it was him anyway? Like my whole body already decided it was Trouble before my brain could catch up? Like every nerve is screaming his name?
That kiss wasn’t just a kiss. It was something else—something reckless and dangerous and way too real. A warning. A promise. Maybe both.
And now I’m standing here with my lips still burning, my mind trying its best to make sense of what just happened.
