“Can’t imagine the county will give us the green light if they see the captain and chief getting up on stage to get auctioned off to the highest bidder,” Maverick adds, chuckling.
Sylvie hums, and I feel her eyes before I see them. “I don’t see any excuse for you, though, Hunter.”
“It’s because Dad’s a grump,” Opal says before I can respond, another damn candy cane in her mouth. “And he has no life. It would mean he’d have to plan a date, which he’s incapable of. I mean, look at him. You thinkhepicked that suit out? No. I did. He’d be nothing without me.”
She’s not wrong. Without her in my life, I’d be without purpose. Hell, sheismy purpose. Why I do what I do. And she’s the reason I don’t put myself out there.
I know the horror stories. Not just about kids not meshing with stepparents, but what can happen behind closed doors. It’s not just about getting along; there could be power plays, abuse, and other things the parent doesn’t even realise are happening—or is too blind to see—between the stepparent and child.
During my years at the station, I saw it happen. Not much, but enough to keep me on edge and remind me I’m the reason Opal is in this world, and she’s the only thought I need to have.
And I can’t let the younger blonde on my other side make me forget that.
When the auctionis back in full swing and Sylvie is no longer sitting beside me, I feel like I can breathe again.
She runs through several more guys from the volunteer service, as well as the guys who plan to stay with the house once it re-opens. We have quite a few who remain volunteers regardless of the state of the firehouse, others who volunteer where they can, whether that be like me, or on the mountain with the rescue team.
They all go in the hundreds. And that includes ladies, too. Nurses from the hospital. The paramedic team is still working hard despite the lack of support. The photographers documenting the event. Hell, the new owner of Daisy’s Bar is here by some miracle, andMaverickis the one to win a date with her. Even though I know I shouldn’t be surprised, I am. It’s almost insane to think Sylvie could have convinced so many people to come out and do this.
And she’s not even from Willow Ridge. Hadn’t stepped foot in our town before I picked her up at Daisy’s during the last blizzard.
“Okay, folks, we have one more to bid on. She’s not from around here, so be kind,” Sylvie announces, setting her microphone in its stand. I watch as she pulls her stool from the side stage over to the mic, taking a seat quietly. “Sorry, I’ve been on my feet for hours, and the heels might look lovely, but they’re a killer. Am I right?”
Women in the crowd laugh, shouting their agreement. Sylvie still has them wrapped around her little finger.
Everette pushes his cell towards me, the number of donations he’s counted almost making me sick. It’s not enoughto get the house permanently re-opened, but it could pay some of the guys. And it hasn’t even been matched yet.
Sylvie’s older brother promised he’d match what she raised, and so would his friends buying the land the old lodge sits on. Cade Abernathy has already committed to double what we get tonight.
It might actually be enough.
Because ofher.
“Although our next bachelorette is new to town…” Cheers erupt, mainly from the men, at the announcement that the last to bid on is a woman. I’m not naïve to think it could be anyone else but her. Opal’s question hadn’t just been for jokes. She’d been serious. And right.
Sylvie is about to be the last contestant in her own little game.
A lump forms in my throat as she continues, “Okay, okay. I can tell you’re excited. Your next bachelorette came to Willow Ridge hoping to help you guys rebuild a legacy. The firehouse and the firefighters who serve there deserve everything you guys have done for them, and more. And this newbie will be setting up a mystery date with all the bells and whistles. Which is why I have put myself up for auction.”
More cheers. Beside me, Opal hoots, clapping wildly with excitement. I force myself to join in despite the strange tightening in my chest.
Sylvie waves a hand, silencing the crowd. “Alright, folks. By now, you should know the drill. We’re starting our bids at a nice even hundred. Do we have a hundred?”
Immediately, bids skyrocket. One hundred goes to one fifty. Then it jumps to two eighty. Someone in the back offers three hundred even. The ladies from the retirement home offer three hundred and ten with laughs. My own fucking brother shouts three fifty.
I’m frozen in place until someone behind me yells, “Three sixty!”
I whip around to glare at Opal, who has my bidding paddle in the air, a mischievous look glinting in her eyes. Before I can retract that bid, someone beats it by another ten, pushing it to three seventy.
Then my daughter shouts, “Three ninety!”
The paddle waves in the air.
There’s no one shouting to match or beat it.
From the stage, Sylvie tries to maintain control, but her eyes are wide, and there’s a dark flush to her cheeks. All night, she’s been picture perfect.
“Going once!” she shouts, looking around almost desperately. “Going twice!” Still no answer, and it has my stomach sinking. “Sold.You know where to take your donations. Thank you, folks, for a wonderful night, and please enjoy your dessert.”
