Page 4 of The Mountain Man Bidder

I shake my head. “I think he just cares about the library. He knows we need the money.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “No way. He spent that money onyou. You could have been raising money for the Anti-Tree League or something, and he’d still have bought that date.”

I laugh. “The Anti-Tree League?”

She shrugs. “It could exist. I’m sure there’s tree-hating wackos out there somewhere.”

I swallow hard, heat creeping up my neck. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Pete Callahan isn’t just some brooding, solitary mountain man. Maybe, just maybe, he’s exactly the kind of man I’ve been waiting for.

The charity auction’s organizer bursts into the room. “There you are!”

I blink in confusion. “Do you need me for something else, Stacy?”

She waves a hand dismissively. “No, no. Mr. Callahan will reach out to set up the date with you this week. I’m looking for Lucy.”

Lucy’s forehead scrunches. “Why?”

“One of the participants had a panic attack. She nearly passed out on stage, and now we can’t calm her down enough to go back on. I need you to stand in for her. I’m desperate—please!”

Lucy frowns. “What’s the charity?”

“The Anti-Tree League?” I whisper in Lucy’s ear.

She shushes me, giving her full attention to Stacy.

“The Brassiere Initiative,” Stacy says after a quick glance at her clipboard. Seeing the blank expressions on mine and Lucy’s faces, she adds, “It’s a great charity. They provide bras for women and girls who can’t afford them.”

“I can support that,” Lucy says, standing straight, and sticking out her very ample bosom. “And who knows? Maybe there’s another Captain Whatsit for me, too.”

I laugh. “Captain Wentworth!”

“Whatever you say, Future-Mrs.-Callahan.” And with that, my friend saunters out of the room and onto the stage.

Chapter 5

Pete

The sun hangs lowin the sky, casting a golden glow over the valley as I spread out the plaid blanket on a soft patch of grass. I’ve hiked this trail a hundred times, but today it feels different, like the trees are holding their breath. Probably because I’m not alone this time. Stella is a few steps behind me, her hands free as I carry the picnic basket.

It’s not an expensive or extravagant date. It’s a simple picnic in a spot that I love, but something tells me that Stella will appreciate it.

“This spot is perfect,” she says, brushing a strand of hair from her face, her cheeks pink from the climb. I can’t help but notice how the sunlight catches in her hair, making each strand looklike spun gold. She’s breathtaking, even in her simple jeans and a sweater. And for the hundredth time, I’m glad I made that ridiculous bid at the auction.

“Figured you’d like it,” I say, trying to sound casual, though my heart is thudding like I’ve been climbing the trail with a weight much heavier than the basket. “Quiet, peaceful. Good place to clear your head.”

She looks at me, her brown eyes thoughtful. “It’s perfect, Pete. Thank you.”

She’s got that effortless kind of beauty that doesn’t need makeup or fancy clothes. Just Stella, in her simple sweater and jeans, is enough to make my heart ache.

I spread out the picnic blanket, and we settle down onto it. She starts unpacking the basket, and I’m excited to see what she thinks of my selections. I’ve packed all the classics—sharp cheddar, crusty bread, fresh apples, and the little chocolate cookies from the local bakery that I know she’s fond of. I’ve seen her sneak them from her desk drawer at the library. It’s not fancy, but I believe in my soul that she’d rather have this than some overpriced meal in a stuffy restaurant.

“This is perfect,” she says, her eyebrows lifting as she pulls out a thermos of tea. “What’s in this?”

“Rooibos tea. I thought it’d go nice with the cookies.”

Her face lights up with surprise. “How did you know that’s my favorite?”

Because I’m always watching you, and I know that’s what you order from the local tea shop. . .

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