“Congratulations to?—”
I barely hear my number being called. Because suddenly, this isn’t theoretical anymore. This isn’t just a fun night out.
This is real.
I just won a date with a Navy SEAL.
And across the room, Douglas’s gaze finds mine again.
This time, I’m filled with a sense of something else.
Something warmer. Something that feels a little too much like hope and promise.
I’m in trouble. And I like it.
Let the record show: I am not impulsive.
I am a planner. A list-maker. A woman who has a color-coded calendar and a notes app full of reminders likedrink waterandstop texting men who don’t text back.
And yet—“I think I just spent two-thousand dollars on a man,” I whisper.
Elizabeth snorts. “Correction: you invested in a charitable experience.”
“Hi.” The word drops into the space beside us, low and warm, and my entire body goes still.
Elizabeth’s eyes go wide.
Slowly—so slowly—I turn my head.
And there he is.
Up close, he’s somehow even more—I don’t even have a word for it.
Tall, obviously. I noticed that before. But now I can see the details—the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the way his shirt pulls across his chest when he shifts, the subtle roughness to his jaw like he shaved this morning but didn’t really care about getting it perfect.
And his eyes. My. God.
“Hi,” I manage, which feels like a miracle considering my brain has temporarily left the building.
“I’m Douglas.” He holds out his hand.
I stare at it for half a second too long before taking it. His grip is warm, firm, grounding in a way that makes something in my chest settle and spike at the same time.
“I’m Kathryn. “This is my sister, Elizabeth,” I say, gesturing vaguely.
“Hi,” Elizabeth says, suddenly very composed. “Big fan.”
I choke on nothing.
Douglas’s mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “Of the auction? Or?—”
“Of men who show up looking like that,” she says waving her hand around him.
“Elizabeth,” I hiss.
“What?” She shrugs. “I’m supporting your investment.”
I bury my face in my hands for half a second. “I’m so sorry.”
