By the time I head back to my cabin, the sun is sinking behind the ridge, streaking the sky with orange and gold. I stomp the mud off my boots as I step inside, the warmth of the fire in the woodstove already seeping into my bones. Tossing my gloves onto the table, I reach for the stack of mail I grabbed from my box earlier. Bills. A couple of junk flyers. Then something catches my eye that makes me freeze in my tracks.
The town paper, folded in half, sits beneath the pile, and right there, in bold print, is an advertisement for the charity auction.
My gut tightens as I skim the names. I already know who I’m looking for before I find her.
Stella Lawson to support Hawks Roost Public Library.
My grip tightens on the page. The town’s librarian. I knew she wouldn’t be able to pass up an opportunity to raise money for the library.
She’s bright, warm, and always smiling when I see her—even if it’s from a distance. And now she’ll be standing on a stage, letting men bid on her like she’s an object they can buy?
I don’t like it.
The thought of another man winning the date, taking her out, making her laugh, maybe eventouchingher at the end of the night? My jaw clenches as my teeth grind together.
I don’t belong in town. I don’t do crowds. But for this? For her?
I’ll make an exception.
My stomach flips when I notice the date of the auction.Tonight.I don’t have time for a shower, or even to change myclothes. If I’m going to make it there in time, I have to go just as I am. Sweaty, covered in sawdust, and with mud on my boots.
Well, shit. At least the town gossips will have something to talk about it.
Chapter 3
Pete
Hawks Roost Town Hallis packed wall to wall with bodies, the air thick with heat and chatter. I should’ve stayed home, where the only sound is the crackle of my woodstove and the wind through the trees. But the second I heard Stella was up for auction, staying home wasn’t an option.
She stands on the stage, hands clasped tight in front of her, her dress hugging every soft curve. Her golden-brown hair tumbles over her shoulders, glossy under the overhead lights. And pinned to her chest is a ridiculously big bow, making her look like a gift just waiting to be unwrapped. Judging by the hungry expressions of the men in the audience, they’re thinking the same thing.
I clench my fists, fighting the urge to gouge out the eyes of everyone in this room. An insistent need to claim Stella for my own, once and for all, overwhelms me. I’ve been infatuated with her since the first time I saw her, but this feeling—this insatiable desire—is different. It has me on edge, wanting to fight my way through the crowd, throw her over my shoulder, and take her back to my cave.Um… cabin. I meant cabin.
She’s fidgeting under the lights and wearing an uncomfortable smile.She’s nervous.My chest tightens. She shouldn’t be up there worrying who she’s going to be forced to go on a date with. She’s probably worried she’ll be stuck with a creep.
Not happening.
The auctioneer clears his throat. “Folks, next up we have Miss Stella Lawson, our lovely librarian. Who’s going to start the bidding?”
A man in the front row raises his hand. “Fifty bucks.”
I barely hear the next bid over the blood rushing in my ears.How dare he bid so low?Stella’s face is lobster-red with embarrassment. Someone else calls out a hundred. Then one-fifty. I push off the back wall, stepping into the light. “Five hundred dollars.”
A few heads turn, surprised. I don’t usually show up to these things. I don’t make small talk at the diner or linger in town long enough to chitchat with others. Many of them have never heard my voice. But tonight, I’m making an exception. For Stella.
“That’s more like it,” the auctioneer calls out. “Do I have five-twenty-five?”
“Yep!” A guy I vaguely recognize from the feed store smirks as he raises his paddle.
I level him with a glare. “Five-fifty.”
A murmur rolls through the crowd. Stella’s eyes finally land on me. Big, brown, and wide with surprise. My pulse kicks up. Ishould look away, but I can’t. Not when she’s looking at me like that. Like she wantsmeto win.
“Six hundred!” Another man jumps in, a younger guy, too confident for his own good.
I take a slow step forward. “Six-fifty.”
The younger guy glances at me. I don’t blink. He swallows and sits back down.