“That’s what a good cowboy will do to you …every time.”
“Ambrose is no cowboy.”
Roxy’s face lights up. “He’s in Wranglers, a button-down, boots, a buckle, and a Stetson tonight.”
“You saw him? How is he?” I hiss, trying to control the pounding of my heart.
Roxy chuckles, glancing around the room. My eyes follow, settling on more than one pack of women prepared to rip Ambrose limb from limb, given half a chance.
I grip the paddle, torn. At least I can guarantee him respect, a quick and quiet date, and nothing out of the ordinary. A far cry from the chaos looming.
“These women are going ga-ga. We’re going to have a riot on our hands.” Roxy frowns
“Poor Ambrose,” I murmur.
“He’s your rescuer and knight in shining armor. That’s got to be worth something?—”
“I see what you’re trying to do?—”
“Look at those women,” she says, motioning toward the feverish crowd. “Like Morgan Wallen tickets just went on sale.”
The corners of my mouth turn down. “They’re hotter, sexier, know exactly how to seduce. I’m buttoned up, prim, geeky chic …minus the chic.”
Roxy shakes her head. “Please. You’ve never heard of the whole sexy librarian thing before? Some guys arereallyinto that.”
“Me? Sexy librarian? More like DMV worker bee with cat hair stuck to my skirt.”
“There’s only one way to find out while protecting him from ….that.” She gestures around the gym, where women already paw at the auction paddles like lionesses waiting to pounce.
Roxy bustles off to check the stage lights, leaving me clutching the paddle like it’s a weapon instead of cardboard. My mind betrays me instantly.
I picture him on stage. Ambrose Dutch in a button-down, plaid shirt, shoulders broad enough to block out the string lights behind him, his jaw set the way it was when he rescued me from the tree. Except now it’s women, not cats, raising tonight’s stakes.
What would it feel like if all those eyes weren’t on him? If it was just me? If he looked past every other woman in this gym and found me, steady, as though he’d known all along I’d be the one to take him home?
My pulse skitters. And then, reality crashes in. I’m not that girl. The one bold enough to wave a paddle in the air and claim a man who belongs on TV screens, not in my small-town, bookish orbit.
I clutch the paddle too tightly, the thin cardboard bowing under my grip.
My brain screams “no,” reminding me of every reason I don’t belong here, every reason a man like Ambrose could never really see me.
But my body … my body betrays me. It spins the picture clear as day. Ambrose on that stage, broad-shouldered and commanding, his eyes cutting past the crowd to land squarely on me.Miss Geeky Chic. As if he’d known all along.
Heat curls low, dangerous, insistent. Want tangled with dread. I shake the thought away, but it clings, leaving me restless, breathless, and far too aware of the paddle burning in my hand.
The only thing worse than my own cowardice? Watching some sweet, white-haired Auxiliary lady raise her paddle … and win the man who already feels dangerously close to mine.
Chapter
Six
AMBROSE
“Avery Ross! Avery Ross!”
The chanting grows deafening, though I try to ignore it. Feet stomp. Claps shatter the air. Like a pep rally spinning out of control.
“We should send him out next,” Hawk repeats, eyeing Kurt, my fire chief. I feel like a scapegoat being tossed to the wolves. “Otherwise, they won’t bid on anyone else.”
