A whoop rises.
Maverick’s stare deadens, like he’s gone to a mental place where none of this exists.
My eyes meet his for the first time.
It’s quick. A glance.
But it hits like contact.
His gaze is sharp, assessing, and it lands on my face like he’s clocking something he didn’t expect.
My skin prickles. Heat pools low in my stomach in a way that feels unfair and inappropriate for someone in survival mode.
I take another bite of donut like it will help.
It does not.
“All right!” the woman claps. “Bidding starts at one hundred dollars!”
A hand shoots up immediately.
“One hundred!” a voice calls out.
It’s one of the wild old ladies in front. Pink lipstick, sparkly scarf, and a grin that says she’s here for entertainment, not love.
“If I was younger,” she announces loudly, “I’d climb him like a tree!”
The pavilion explodes with laughter.
Maverick’s expression does not change. He stares straight ahead like he’s willing the floor to swallow him.
Another woman calls out, “One fifty!”
This one has a fuzzy hat and a thermos that definitely contains something stronger than coffee.
The pink-lipstick lady waves at her. “Ruthie, don’t you start!”
Ruthie blows her a kiss.
My heartbeat climbs into my throat.
This is insane.
I am actually considering doing this.
My fingers curl around the auction paddle someone shoved into my hand at the entrance, and my palms sweat.
I look at Maverick again.
He looks like the kind of man who could keep a door locked against a storm. The kind of man who would notice if someone tried to sneak up on me. The kind of man who would stand between me and danger without being asked.
I need that.
Just for a weekend.
Before I can talk myself out of it, my arm lifts.
“Two hundred,” I call.
