“And now, ladies,” Cord announced with a dramatic flourish, “a special treat. Back from deployment and making his auction debut this year—give it up for Lieutenant Rhett ‘Tater’ MacAvoy!”
My glass froze halfway to my lips. The room tilted slightly.
Rhett stepped onto the stage, and my heart did that stupid little stutter-step it always did around him. Damn him. He looked... incredible. The tailored charcoal suit hugged his broad shoulders and tapered down to his narrow waist. His dark hair was shorter than when I’d last seen him, still military-neat, and the scruff along his jawline was new. My hands itched to stroke over it.
But it was the discomfort radiating from him that hit me hardest. Rhett had always hated being the center of attention. In past auctions, we’d had an understanding—I’d bid just enough to win him, saving him from having to actually go on date with anyone, including the old women who just wanted to ogle him while he did yard work. A convenient arrangement that had benefited us both.
Now I watched him scan the crowd, his shoulders tight with tension. When his eyes swept over our row, I ducked my head, pretending to be fascinated by the auction program.
“You okay?” Allie whispered.
“Fine,” I lied.
Rhett shifted his weight, his hand unconsciously moving to his left shoulder. The injury. I wondered how bad it had been, how the recovery was progressing.
Not that it was my business anymore. We’d signed those divorce papers three years ago. His injuries, his recovery, his life—none of it concerned me now.
So why did my chest feel like someone had wrapped barbed wire around my lungs?
“Let’s start the bidding at $100,” Cord announced. “Who’ll give me $100 for this fine specimen of firefighting excellence?”
“One hundred!” A paddle shot up near the end of the row.
I wondered if I could sneak out without being noticed. Almost as if they could read my mind, Allie and Jess linked arms with me. Emotional support? Or locking me in place?
Either way, it looked like I was sitting through this travesty, whether I liked it or not.
Five
Rhett
I tugged at the collar of my shirt, wishing I was anywhere but on this damned stage. My shoulder throbbed. I needed ice, not a fucking spotlight. But Chief Holloway had shoved me up here with a, “Do it for the department, Tater.” I hadn’t been around to do anything for the department in a year, so it wasn’t like I could argue. Chief caught my eye from the side of the stage and offered two thumbs up and an encouraging nod. Easy for him. He wasn’t the one up here being sized up like a side of beef. Perks of being the boss, I supposed.
Then I spotted Pepper.
Right there in the front row, in an emerald green dress that made me almost swallow my own tongue. It clung to every single curve my hands remembered and made it evident they were a little more generous than they had been when I’d left. My fingers itched to explore. The abbreviated hemline gave me a clear view of those long, creamy thighs. My brain instantly imagined them wrapped around my hips as I plunged deep, and it took every shred of my control to stop myself from popping a woody right here on stage.
It was the anxiety and sadness in her gray-green eyes that did it. One high-heel-clad foot bounced with a frenetic energy that rivaled Twitch, and her hands were all but white-knuckling her clutch. She didn’t want to be here any more than I did.
“Let’s start the bidding at $100,” Cord announced, his voice carrying that practiced showmanship that earned him the nickname Hollywood. “Who’ll give me $100 for this fine specimen of firefighting excellence?”
“One hundred!” A paddle shot up near the end of the row.
I barely registered who it was. My eyes were locked on Pepper, watching her fidget with the thin gold bracelet on her wrist—the one I’d given her on our third anniversary. She still wore it. That tiny detail hit me harder than any IED ever could.
Before the divorce, she’d have been the first paddle in the air. She’d bid whatever it took to “save” me, as she’d put it. To keep me from having to spend an awkward evening with someone who might get handsy or talk my ear off. She’d laugh later as we drove home, telling me I owed her big time for the rescue operation. I always paid up willingly.
But that wasn’t my life anymore. I’d destroyed that when I chose the job over her one too many times, instead of working on our marriage. I didn’t deserve her protection now.
So what the hell was she doing here?
She sat rigid between two friends who had their arms linked with hers like they were afraid she might bolt. Maybe they were right. The set of her jaw told me she was gritting her teeth, a habit she’d had since high school when she was holding back words she might regret.
“Two hundred!” A brunette a few seats down from Pepper raised her paddle. Meghan Garcia, who owned that boutique downtown that Pepper had always dragged me into.
Pepper’s head whipped toward her so fast that her long auburn hair flew out like a banner. The look she gave Meghan could have melted steel. Meghan just flashed an unapologetic smile that quickly faded as someone else in the room shouted.
“Three hundred!”
