“Sold!”
The gavel slams.
The room explodes.
Applause. Whistles. Gasps.
Mrs. Dottie clutches her pearls like she’s witnessing a proposal.
Levi doesn’t smile.
He steps forward.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Every movement saysmine.
I try to hold my composure as he climbs the steps to the stage.
He stops in front of me.
Close enough that I can see the tension in his jaw.
“You’re enjoying this?” he asks quietly.
“I didn’t volunteer for this,” I whisper back.
“You didn’t say no.”
“I was shoved.”
His hand closes around mine.
Warm.
Firm.
Possessive.
“You could’ve walked off.”
“And let the roof cave in?” I challenge.
His eyes flash.
“You think I care about the roof?”
The crowd is still clapping, watching, waiting like Levi and I are their favorite reality show.
He turns to the audience and gives a tight nod.
“Happy to support the firehouse,” he says evenly. The applause doubles. Then he leans in so only I can hear. “Walk.”
I let him guide me off stage. The second my heels hit the floor, he doesn’t release my hand. He keeps moving. Through the crowd. Past the buffet. Toward the hallway leading to the church offices. The noise fades behind us.
When we reach the empty corridor, he stops abruptly.
