I didn’t realize until this moment how badly I wanted him to be here.
“Hi,” I say, my voice a little breathless from slamming into him.
“Hi,” he says. His gaze skates over me, slow and steady. “That,” he finally says, “is a perfect dress.”
“Complimenting the dress and not the woman?” The question slips out full of sass, possibly inappropriate given our history, but I can’t take it back.
And depending on how he reacts…I’m not sure I want to.
Roman raises one brow at me—like I knew he would, by the way. “Would the woman in question be amenable to compliments?”
I swallow, watching the flash of interest in his eyes, feeling my pulse jump. “She would.”
He takes a step closer, looking down at me. “I’m here like you wanted me to be. But you’re walking a fine line, Aurora,” he murmurs, a faint thread of warning in his low voice.
“I’m going to walk more of it.”
Roman doesn’t move or speak. He just waits.
“I know I have no right to ask this of you,” I say, tilting my chin up. “And you can say no if you want. All right?”
He gives me a slow nod. “All right…”
“The auction,” I say, swallowing. I nod at everything going on around us—the employees still setting up last-minute details, the local businesses laying out their booths. “The date auction we’re putting on. It starts in half an hour.”
Now his eyes narrow, like he can tell where I’m going with this, but all he says is “I’m aware.”
My pride rears its ugly head in the face of the question I’m about to ask, and for a second, I want to concede. I’m tempted to walk away, my head held high—held so high, in fact, that I can’t see the ground beneath my feet or all the things I might be trampling on.
But I already asked him to be here. That was the first step. I can take this one, too.
Spit it out, Aurora.So I take a deep breath, look Roman straight in the eye, and say, “Will you bid on me?”
And I see the flicker of triumph, even as he continues to look at me with skepticism. “That depends,” he says slowly. “Are you going to take off running in the opposite direction when I win?”
When—notif.
“No,” I say. The word is hoarse.
“Because as a general rule,” he says, almost businesslike now, “I don’t put myself in situations where I’ll be rejected by the same woman over and over again.” He steps impossibly closer,until we’re mere inches apart, and his brow lifts as his gaze darts over my features. “If I do this…we’redoing this.”
My heart is rattling in my chest, racing, and as my answer dances off my tongue, my pulse speeds even further.
“I understand,” I say.
I can see Roman’s mind work as he gives me another slow nod. “And knowing that—you still want me?”
A simple, matter-of-fact question. He doesn’t ask if I still want himto bid, or if I still want himhere.
Just if I wanthim.
“Yes. If you’re willing,” I say hoarsely.
His gaze flits to my lips. “I’m willing.”
More relief floods through me—relief and something else, tentative but bright.
“Good. Thank you.” I pause and then go on, “My sisters will find you.”
