For charity.
Which is theonlyreason I’m here. Obviously.
“I still can’t believe you agreed to this,” Elizabeth says, flipping through her booklet. “You hate dating.”
“I don’t hate dating,” I say automatically.
She raises a brow.
I sigh. “Okay. I strongly dislike dating.”
“Because—?”
“Because,” I cut in, already knowing where this is going, “it’s a waste of time.”
“Or—”
“Or,” I continue, louder now, “because the last three guys you went out with?—”
“Five,” she corrects.
“—ghosted me,” I finish, ignoring her. “Yes. I’m aware.”
Elizabeth softens, her teasing fading just a little. “Kat…”
“It’s fine.” I wave her off, even though it’s not entirely fine. “This is different. This is structured. Controlled. There’s a start time. An end time. No weird ‘text me when you get home’ expectations followed by radio silence.”
“You’re putting a lot of faith in a charity auction date.”
“I’m putting faith in the fact that I’d be paying for it,” I say. “It’s harder to ghost someone when there’s a paper trail.”
She snorts. “You’d be surprised.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re not helping.”
“I’m just saying, men are creative when it comes to disappointing us.”
I scoff. “Thank you. That’s exactly the energy I needed tonight.”
“You’re welcome.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling.
Because despite everything—despite the ghosting, the awkward first dates, the “let’s do this again sometime” lies—I don’t actually hate the idea of tonight.
There’s something… fun about it.
Low stakes. No pressure. A built-in ending.
And if I happen to win someone attractive?
Well. That’s just a bonus.
“Okay,” Elizabeth says, tapping her booklet. “Who are you eyeing?”
I lean over, scanning the pages.
Rancher.
