I did keep the puppy.
Not that I told anyone that.
I brought him home after the shoot, set him down on my cabin floor, and he walked around like he owned the place within five minutes. Like he’d always been there.
Nugget.
Five months old now. Still a menace.
Still the only creature on earth I don’t mind touching my stuff.
Now, standing here at the Valentine auction, it feels like December all over again.
Just with higher stakes.
The paperwork is already handled, done in the back.
Now I’m back out here under the lights, pretending I’m fine with being someone’s prize.
Because this time, it’s not a calendar.
It’s a weekend.
And the girl looking up at me is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Which is a problem.
I don’t deserve softness.
I don’t deserve someone’s trust.
I’ve got too much inside me that doesn’t stay quiet in the dark.
Evelyn says I’m a softie under the scowl.
She’s wrong.
Or maybe she’s right and that’s worse.
My gaze flicks to the next bachelors.
Gil Pruitt looks like he belongs in a boardroom. Steel eyes. Smirk already loaded.
On the other side, Hunter Colgrave stands there like a lumberjack with a shut mouth and a long fuse. Big. Quiet. Silver-eyed.
I look away. I don’t have time for any of it.
I take my pretty buyer’s hand. Her fingers are cold. The contact hits me like a jolt.
She inhales sharply, and her eyes go wide for half a second before she tries to smooth it away.
I don’t let go.
Then I reach for her backpack with my other hand because it’s too big for her frame and it looks heavy. She tenses like she might fight me for it.
“It’s fine,” I say, low.
Her mouth opens, then closes. She swallows.
