“It is.”
She pushes me toward the curtain. The band strikes up something dramatic and vaguely romantic. The announcer booms, “Next up, Miss Marlene Whitaker?—”
Mrs. Dottie shoves me through the velvet curtain.
“Surprise substitution!” she calls brightly.
The stage lights blind me for a second. When my eyes adjust, I see them. The entire town. Rows of folding chairs. The firefighters clustered together near the bar.
And Levi.
He’s in a dark suit that makes him look like sin disguised as respectability. His tie is loosened slightly at the collar, like he’s already irritated.
His gaze locks on me instantly.
His jaw tightens.
The announcer recovers quickly. “Ladies and gentlemen, looks like we’ve got ourselves a special entry! Chief Marshall’s daughter herself, Miss Sadie Marshall!”
The crowd murmurs. I grip the bouquet harder.
“This is a joke,” I mutter into the mic stand.
The audience laughs like I’ve said something charming. Mrs. Dottie beams from the wings.
The announcer grins. “Let’s open the bidding at five hundred dollars for dinner with this fine young lady!”
Someone whistles. My face burns.
“Five hundred!” an older rancher calls.
Polite applause.
“Seven hundred!” someone else counters.
This is supposed to stay playful.
A harmless fundraiser.
Then one of the younger firefighters—Tyler again—leans back in his chair and calls out, “One thousand!”
The crowd reacts. My eyes flick to Levi. He hasn’t moved. But his shoulders have gone rigid. Tyler smirks in Levi’s direction.
Another firefighter pipes up. “Fifteen hundred!”
Laughter. The energy shifts. This isn’t about charity anymore. It’s about provoking Levi.
“Two thousand!” Tyler shouts again.
Gasps ripple through the room. I swallow hard.
Levi stands slowly.
The room quiets. His voice is calm. Controlled. “Two thousand.”
The crowd goes still.
I blink.
