I know what’s next.
The auctioneer flashes me a wink like we’re in on this together.Asshole. “Up next… ladies, gentlemen, and hockey fans of all kinds… get ready for the hottest prize of the night. A date with Bobcats’ goalie… Cameron Davies.”
My pulse hammers as the crowd cheers. Logan, naturally, leads the charge, standing on his chair and whipping a satin napkin around in the air.
I school my expression, going for flattered rather than letting them see the way I’m plotting the demise of every person in this room.
As the auctioneer goes on like I’m a damn five-star experience in a tux, I massage my jaw, willing myself to relax.
It’s pointless because the familiar voice calling out “One thousand!” only sets me further on edge. Across the space, at one of the management tables, a slender hand shoots up, snagging my attention.
Gigi.
My shoulders sag. I haven’t run into her yet, thanks to Sloane and her incredible defense game. All night she’s been steering me in every direction except Gigi’s.
My ex’s dark brown hair is shorter than it was the last time I saw her, brushing her shoulders instead of falling halfway down her back. She looks good. Objectively, she’s a beautiful woman, but I feel…nothing. I let out a long breath when that realization hits. Part of me was worried I’d feel a pang of nostalgia or regret, but she’s just another person in a crowded room.
The auctioneer lifts a brow and chuckles into the microphone. “Someone’s excited to get the party started, aren’t they? The starting bid is fifteen hundred?—”
“Fifteen hundred,” Gigi counters.
Laughter flows through the room, and she smiles, eating up the attention.
“Seventeen hundred!” an unfamiliar voice shouts.
And we’re off.
“Eighteen hundred,” Gigi outbids smoothly.
Teeth gritted, I eye Kennedy. Any time now would be great for her to bid. When she catches me looking, I lift my arms, though I keep them close to my body and subtly make the universal sign of “well, what are you waiting for?”
Her face brightens, her lips curling up in a smile, and she fucking winks, clearly in no rush to ease my anxiety. The heat of the room rises and my chest tightens like it’s caught in a clamp. With a labored breath in, I undo a button on my shirt. Loganwhistles, assuming I’m adding “sexual energy” to boost the bids when in reality, I’m just trying not to pass out.
I’d rather sleep in a roomful of spiders than do this ever again.
The bids continue, then stall out around ten thousand. Gigi is the highest bidder again, and the room is silent. Just when I think Kennedy’s going to fuck me over, she raises her hand and takes a slow sip of her soda. Then, with a relaxed smile, she says, “Twenty thousand.”
My lips twitch as the whole crowd loses its mind and the auctioneer practically stumbles over himself. Gigi cuts a sharp eye at Kennedy, opens her mouth, then snaps it shut. She may have a trust fund to spend at will, but even twenty grand for an hour with me is too much. She doesn’t lift her hand, and Kennedy—God bless her—flashes one of her cheerful smiles as the auctioneer slams his gavel against the podium.
“Sold! To the lovely woman in red.”
Relief slams into me like a puck to the chest, and my shoulders drop as a gust of air escapes me. The room erupts into applause again, but I keep my face a blank mask, like I haven’t just rigged a charity event to avoid my ex.
“Twenty thousand?” Jake asks with a laugh. “Damn.”
“It’s for a good cause,” I argue.
“I can think of no better cause than avoiding one-on-one time with Gigi.”
“I meant the charity’s cause.” I cock a brow. “You know? Diversity, inclusivity, and safety in hockey?”
“Oh. Sure. That, too.” Jake leans back, arms stretched behind his head. “And a date with Kennedy Caplan? It doesn’t get much better than that. So I’d say it’s a good win.”
He lets out an appreciative whistle, and an unfamiliar anger quickens my blood. There’s no denying that Kennedy’s gorgeous,but I don’t like that he’s acknowledging it. And I don’t like that I don’t like it.
Abruptly, Jake coughs and sits up straight, jerking his head. “Code red.”
Dread washes over me. I don’t turn, knowing there’s only one person in this room who would qualify as a code red.
