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Anissa

“Stop pulling at the dress.” Mae catches my hands before I can smooth the green fabric over my hips again. “You look beautiful.”

Mae has been my best friend since we were girls. She held me while I cried the night Silas turned me away, then listened to three years of determined claims that I was over him. She also talked me into tonight’s charity auction, which suggests her judgment isn't always as sound as her loyalty.

“I look available.” I glance around the auction stage, where Earl is advertising the next bachelor. “There’s a difference.”

“You signed the form.” She adjusts my sleeve, smiling. “Voluntarily. Besides, the last time I checked, you are single—very single.”

“You mentioned children reading under a leaking roof.” I try to change the subject. “Very effective guilting, I might add.”

I came back to Maple Lane Falls with one suitcase full of clothes I designed and another full of things I couldn’t bear to leave in Chicago. I meant to spend a few quiet weeks deciding what to do after losing my job. Instead, I’m standing behind a curtain while half the town prepares to bid on my company.

“Final requests?” Mae lifts my hair off my collar, gives it a final fluff, then puts me up for auction.

“A trapdoor.” I roll my eyes. “Before anyone asks about Chicago.”

“You don’t owe them that story.” She squeezes my hand. “Now go help your library.”

I step onto the platform and glance around the audience, finding Ben Hollis standing near the front with his uncle, looking nervous. A weekend with Ben would involve polite conversation and no danger of remembering the worst night of my life or of losing my heart.

“Anissa Langford!” Earl sweeps a hand toward me. “Twenty-three, talented, and home from the big city. One festival weekend through Sunday’s farewell breakfast. As always, participation remains voluntary for both parties, folks. You’re bidding on her company, not her hand in marriage.”

“And donuts,” I say quickly, not wanting to think about marriage. “I’d like to establish that I expect more than one.”

“Gentlemen, budget accordingly.” Earl lifts his hand. “Who’ll start us at fifty?”

Ben’s uncle nudges him. Ben raises his paddle, and I smile. Someone offers seventy-five. Ben goes to a hundred, then checks with his uncle as though they should have discussed financing before he started bidding.

The crowd laughs, and I relax a little. I can handle this. I’ll spend a nice weekend with someone easy to be around. Maybe I’ll finally stop checking if every tall man in a dark jacket is Silas Settles.

“One hundred and fifty!” A man beside the cider press lifts his paddle.

“Two hundred.” Ben straightens as his uncle pats him on the back.

“Five hundred.” The voice comes from the rear of the crowd.

My breath catches. Silas stands beneath a maple with a paddle at his side, his broad shoulders filling a brown canvas jacket. His beard is thicker, his hair longer at the collar, and the silver at his temple is unfairly attractive. Three years should have made him easier to look at without wanting things. But when he looks straight at me, it’s like I’m back three years ago, wanting a man who doesn’t want me, except now he’s bidding on my company.

“Well.” Earl lowers his chin, a smug smile on his face. “Silas Settles. I thought you only came down here to criticize the woodpile.”

“It was stacked wrong.” Silas lifts his paddle a fraction.

“And yet the town survived.” Earl gestures toward Ben. “Do I hear six hundred?”

Ben goes along. Silas bids seven-fifty, and suddenly the younger me who used to hope for his attention is no help at all. I used to walk to his shop thinking up clever things to say, then forget them as soon as he opened the door. I thought being in love meant he felt it too. Only he never thought of me that way.

“Silas, this involves participating.” Earl consults his paper. “Other people. Occasional cheerful conversation.”

“I read it.” Silas rests the paddle against his thigh.

“Corn maze? Pumpkin carving?” Earl raises his eyebrows.

“I own sharp tools.” Silas finally glances at him.

“Let’s call that enthusiasm.” Earl points to Ben, who raises his paddle for eight hundred.