To my surprise, the bidding wasn’t as cut-and-dried—or cheap—as I expected it to be after another girl started competing with Abby for a date with Foster. Who the hell was this girl and what on earth was she thinking?
I saw Abby turn to her friend when the bidding hit two hundred dollars, and I sympathized with her look of panic. I almost gave up my revenge plot right then and there to giveher the money in my bag, but then Gordy sat behind her and whispered something to her.
She raised her paddle. “Two hundred and fifty.”
The other girl raised her bid again.
Seriously?
“Three fifty,” came another voice I recognized easily from growing up around his subtle Irish lilt. Liam appeared beside her, stuffing more bills into her hand.
It hit me like a lightning strike—the other players were helping her win the bid.
Warmth filled my bones. It really was too bad that they were friends with Dumontier because apart from that obviously terrible taste in judgment, they seemed like great guys.
Drew even joined in to help, which managed to remove any warmth I’d felt about the display of loyalty they were showing their captain’s girlfriend.
He could carry an old woman across the street and I’d still think he was scum of the earth.
Samantha Lowe, who, in a strange turn of events, had recently moved into the hockey house after Foster moved out, stood up and glared daggers at the other girl. I sure as shit wouldn’t want to be on the other side of that stare off. No wonder she and Abby were best friends. She was kind of a badass.
Finally the girl realized that not a single soul in the room was on her side, and she dropped her paddle down, effectively letting Abby win her boyfriend.
Ava took over again once Foster got off the stage.
“Next up, we have my brother, Drew ‘Monty’ Dumontier. Despite being related to me, he’s actually not terrible at hockey. He enjoys long walks on the beach and getting caught with his pants down in inappropriate places—wish Iwere kidding. Starting bid is twenty dollars, though personally, I wouldn’t pay more than ten.”
I wish I only had to pay ten. Fuck knows that really was all he was worth.
Drew flipped her off discreetly as he walked on stage in jeans and a tight-fitting white T-shirt. I hated to admit that he looked good, but he had honed his body through years of hockey and it showed. He had the same easy confidence as Foster but with an added edge of mischief in his smile.
His sandy-brown hair was perfectly tousled in that effortless way that probably took him twenty minutes to achieve, and when he flashed that trademark mischievous smile at the crowd, I was positive several girls actually swooned.
God, he was insufferable.
The bidding started fairly tame until two seconds into it when he pulled off his shirt—becauseof fucking course he did.
The bids took off after that, and with every raise of my paddle, I truly questioned my sanity.
When it hit two hundred dollars, most of the other women dropped out, except one blonde sorority girl, based on the letters she was wearing on her shirt.
“Two twenty,” I called out with way more confidence than I felt.
Fake it ’til you make it and all that.
“Two forty,” the blonde called.
Fuck my life.
I needed to end this. I could already see Drew’s glimmer of glee, and like hell would I lose when it was just down to me and one other girl. I could already vividly imagine the taunting I’d get from him.
Hell, no.
“Three hundred.”
My heart thundered loudly in my ears, but I saw the other girl shake her head and lower her paddle, and relief hit me so hard, I almost sagged back in my chair. But I had to maintain this picture of confidence as long as Drew was around.
“Sold to Harper Tinsley for three hundred dollars!” Ava announced, looking so surprised I almost laughed.
