It’s not a raging face; this wouldn’t be a crime of passion. This is a deep-seated, heavy-facedglare, with low brows and narrowed eyes and a tense mouth.
She looks like an evil empress, or a wife who’s been poisoning her philandering husband by degrees for months.
I glance over my shoulder when I hear a quiet huff of laughter, but by the time Cyrus’s face comes into view, there’s no smile.
“She’ll be fine,” he grunts to the woman with curly hair. “Let’s go.”
“No!” Juliet hisses, grabbing his arm as the announcer begins to talk on the stage. “Did you bring money? You can go, but leave your money.”
“I’m not here to date my sister, Jules?—”
“I’ll bake you cookies!” she cuts him off. “So many cookies!”
When Cyrus’s eyes narrow, Juliet turns her pleading gaze on the woman with curly hair.
“Poppy,” she says. “Come on. What if we don’t have enough money? At least give me what’s in your wallet, Cy.”
“Oh, come on,” Poppy says, nudging him good-humoredly. “Let’s stay.”
Cyrus mutters something under his breath aboutlivestockandridiculous, but he doesn’t try to leave again.
I do have to admit, in his defense, that there is a bit of a livestock auction feel to what’s happening up on stage. The spotlight narrows as the waiting participants step into the back shadows, so that only one person is visible at a time.
The first woman wears a big smile and waves to the audience and earns a shocking four-hundred dollars. The two men after her both go for three, and the woman after them—a short, full-figured brunette who comes with afternoon passes to a bouldering gym—makes our jaws drop with five-seventy.
With every person who steps forward into the spotlight, my body tenses a little more. I keep waiting for Aurora, but all I can see out of the light is the shadowy outline of the participants at the side of the stage.
My hands are starting to tingle from the incessant clapping when a timid-looking but handsome man earns a bid of three-fifty, but the woman who appears next from the shadows makes my pulse jump, and my hands freeze.
It’s Aurora.
“It’s her!” Juliet says as she dances on her tiptoes. “Are you ready?” She seems to be addressing all of us with this, but I nod anyway.
“Next up,” the announcer says. “Two all-inclusive passes to the Museum of Boulder, time spent in the company of this lovely—lovely—” He falters into silence as he looks over at Aurora, his showy persona dying briefly when he spots herI will gut you in your sleepglare.
He clears his throat after an awkward second of silence and then resumes his shtick. “Aurora!” he says, his voice a little too hearty. He flourishes one arm at her. “And isn’t she beautiful? Aurora enjoys Chinese food”—Aurora’s eyes narrow—“and spending time with her family”—I swear shegrowls—“and exploring the great outdoors.” He clears his throat again and then adds, “We’ll start the bidding at fifty.”
He does his best, but there’s no getting past the look on Aurora’s face. A lone paddle in the front of the crowd flies up, accompanied by a loud “One hundred!”
“One-fifty,” I call, and a second later Juliet has thrust a paddle into my hand, one she’s conjured from who knows where; I lift it belatedly. Aurora’s expression lightens faintly when her gaze finds me in the crowd, or maybe she just recognizes my voice; I’m not sure how much she can see with the spotlight in her eyes.
But her brows furrow and her lips curl down when the man in the front lifts his paddle again. “Three hundred.”
I sigh. Irritation prickles down my spine, partly because this is going to get expensive but mostly because I meant what I said: I don’t like sharing. “Three-fifty.”
“Four.”
“Four-fifty,” I call, gritting my teeth.
“Four-seventy-five.”
“He’s slowing down,” India whispers, and Juliet nods frantically.
“Bid!” she says. “Come on!”
“Five hundred,” I say loudly. Then, lowering my voice, I add, “Any financial reinforcements from here on out will be appreciated and paid back with interest.” It grates at my pride, but I’ve officially reached the limit I can spend without crossing into irresponsible territory.
There’s a longer pause from the man up front this time, and I wait with simmering annoyance, but there’s nothing. I straighten up, trying to see more clearly over the crowd, but the only insight I can glean is Aurora’s threatening expression aimed at the poor guy who probably just thought she was pretty?—
