Annie taps the microphone and smiles, a slight shake to her voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. As you know, our family restaurant suffered a devastating fire last month. In an effort to help those businesses surrounding us that were damaged during the fire, the Merritt Point Activities Committee has graciously agreed to me spearheading a charity date auction today. So, this is your chance. I know you’ve been excited. It’s time to bring out my brother. Who will win a date with my brother, Jack Murphy?”
The man of the hour sprints up the stairs on the right, head down, to join his sister on stage.
Jack Murphy.
He cracks a smile that makes something flutter in my chest. My heart, probably. That would make the most sense. But nothing really does just now. He runs a hand through his tousled chestnut hair, then waves to the crowd.
Oh no.
He’s—god, he’s beautiful. Not handsome in the safe, approachable way. Beautiful enough to make you forget whatyou were about to say. All sun-kissed skin and a strong jaw shadowed with scruff, and those impossibly blue eyes that somehow drill into me despite the distance. Blue like November skies—endless and deep—before the cold gets ushered in. The unbuttoned navy plaid over his white T-shirt shouldn’t work as well as it does, but his shoulders fill it out. Tattoos peek out from beneath his sleeves, and my mouth goes dry.
This is a game to him. He knows it. The crowd knows it.
And the worst part, the truly catastrophic part, is that something in me already knows.
Trouble.
And not at all what I want or need in my life.
The first few rows in front of the stage erupt in screams. A woman behind me accidentally whacks me on the head with her sign: “I’m the only penalty box you need tonight, Jack.” I almost miss Kate whispering to Sophie beside me. I shoot them a quick glance, ignoring the annoying knot in my stomach that something’s wrong, before I return to checking emails on my phone.
I hear Annie place a hand over the microphone before she says, “All right, all right. You’re just nervous.”
The crowd chuckles.
“Let the bidding start,” she announces. “He’s your favorite power forward for the Boston Breakers, a total charmer, and I’ve been told his dimples make anyone with a pulse fall at his feet. Who’s going to take home my decidedly handsome but troublesome brother?”
I glance up, only to catch the sea of eager hands waving in the air. Somewhere near the front, June Harrington shouts she should win by default because she’s his oldest fan. She loves the Salty Romantic and visits often, sometimes even dragging Bridget Murphy, the family’s matriarch, along with her to snag the newest romantasy release.
“Aren’t you going to try, Izzy?” Kate asks, nudging me with her elbow.
I frown at my phone, annoyed. They’re just needling me. I swore off dating for a while in April after a string of terrible dates and some messy situationships. I’m tired of putting time into one-sided relationships.
“Fucking hell, just look at him.” Maisie playfully melts against me before she shoots her hand into the air as bids continue to climb. “Aren’t you a little curious? I bet he’d fuck you straight into next week given the chance.”
“Do I need that?”
“Izzy. My sweetest baby darling, weallneed that.”
I press my lips together, refusing to laugh. Idon’tneed that. I don’t have the time. I’m already mentally running through the orders I need to ship, the thermal printer I still haven’t fixed, the hundred other small things that won’t do themselves.
The girls giggle and raise their hands again while I stick to my phone, refusing to look up and mentally catalog the gorgeous man on stage. Annie keeps urging bidders to go higher and higher until she finally calls out, “Two thousand dollars!”
Kate jumps, waving her arms. “Me! Me!”
Oh my god.
“I don’t know you,” I whisper. “Any of you.”
But the crowd quiets, and everyone pivots toward Kate, who’s now grinning at me. It’s sly and mischievous. Like the one she flashed at me at the start of my birthday last year. The surprise trip to Vegas started with a Long Island Iced Tea (my first mistake of many) and ended with boarding our flight very drunk, with a flip-flop duct-taped to my foot and my boobs signed by the dancers of Thunder Down Under.
I drop my phone to my waist, my shock fully on display when I face Kate. “Are you crazy?” I mean to whisper, butsomething feels off by the way my friends all jump and clap excitedly.
“Congratulations, Kate Fischer!” Annie whacks her brother against his shoulder with a gleeful smile, then turns back to the microphone. “You have yourself a date with Boston’s favorite forward.”
Kate cups her mouth and shouts back, “It was a team effort. We know a local bookseller who would love a date with your brother.”
What?
