Page 4 of The Politician Bidder

Not just still—dead.

Forks freeze halfway to mouths. A glass clinks to the floor. Someone coughs in the back, loud and awkward. All eyes swivel toward me.

The emcee blinks like he wasn’t expecting the night to turn into a campaign rally. “Uh—one thousand from… the Governor.”

He says it like it’s a spelling bee and he just forgot how letters work.

A few seats over, a man in a sports jacket hesitantly lifts a hand. “One thou—”

“No, you idiot!” his friend hisses, grabbing his arm and yanking it down so hard the guy nearly topples sideways. “You can’t bid against thegovernor!”

The poor guy throws his hands up like he’s just been accused of treason. “I didn’t know! I panicked!”

Poppy’s looking at me now.

She sees me.

Her eyes go wide with shock.

I should say something suave. Something meaningful. But my brain short-circuits because this woman—this brilliant, stubborn woman who once made flashcards forfun—is standing ten feet away from me with a pencil in her hair and stars in her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe I’m not destined to be alone.

I want to impress her. I want to help her charity. I want to stake my claim without looking like a lunatic.

So, naturally, I ignore the complete silence and shout, “Ten thousand dollars!”

A gasp ripples through the room.

The emcee fumbles the mic, catches it, then stammers, “Uh—well! Looks like we’ve got… ten thousand going once!”

I hear someone whisper, “Did he just bid against himself?”

Poppy’s mouth drops open slightly, her expression unreadable. Her arms are stiff at her sides like she’s not sure whether to strangle me or hug me.

God, I’ve missed her.

The emcee recovers. “Going twice… sold! To Governor Adam Boston!”

I stride forward, my shoes echoing across the floor like gavel strikes, and meet her at the steps of the stage.

For a second, we just stand there.

She looks up at me, one brow raised. “You do realize no one else bid, right?”

I grin. “Just making sure I locked it in.”

A beat of silence. Then she laughs—a real one. Loud, unfiltered, and just as I remembered it.

I’d pay ten thousand more to hear it again.

Chapter 4

Poppy

Theroomexplodesinpolite applause, but all I hear is the blood rushing in my ears.

Ten. Thousand. Dollars.

I step off the stage in a daze, my sensible loafers making soft squeaks against the hardwood floor as I follow Adam—GovernorAdam—toward the exit. My heart’s still racing, my face is on fire, and I’m pretty sure I’m holding my breath because otherwise I might say something deeply inappropriate in front of the entire Hawks Roost Chamber of Commerce.

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