Page 3 of Auctioned to the Mountain Man

Drop off the furniture donation, accept whatever half-hearted thanks Poppy tossed my way, and get the hell back up the mountain before she could rope me into one of her schemes.

Simple as simple can get.

Poppy doesn’t do simple.The woman’s a force of nature—relentless, unstoppable, and armed with a smile that could disarm a damn warlord.

So, when she shoved a paddle into my hand and insisted I join the charity auction, I should’ve known better. Should’ve known I was about to get tangled up in trouble.

She insisted I could hire one of these women for help with my business.

Bullshit.

She wanted my wallet, not my company’s logo. But I played along, because saying no to Poppy is like trying to out-stubborn a hurricane.

Thenshestepped onto the stage.

Lily. No last name. No backstory. Just wide eyes, a nervous smile, and a pair of jeans that clung to her like a second layer of skin. Ones that make the tips of my ears warm just thinking about what she looks like without them.

One look, and I was done.

I didn’t want her just for the weekend.

In my mind, the moment I laid my eyes on her, I was picturing forever.

That’swhy I raised my paddle again. And again, and again—until every other bidder backed off and my bank account screamed in protest.

Now I’ve got a beauty staring at me like I’ve grown a second head on my shoulder.

I slap down my payment, ignoring Poppy’s shit-eating grin when she realizes I’m walking out with more than I bargained for. The woman looks downright delighted, like she’s just won the lottery instead of auctioning off a stranger’s dignity.

I don’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Just stalk toward my truck, my spine so rigid I’m half-surprised it doesn’t snap under the weight of my own impulsivity.

Lily is still gawking. First at me, now at the truck—her wide eyes tracing the boldCrafted Roots Co.logo stamped across the side of it.

She must see how obvious it is that I shouldn’t be here, that I didn’t belong in that room.

I’ve burned a stupid amount of cash, so I might as well get something out of this disaster. The truck’s back door groans as I shove it up, releasing a gust of cedar and freshly cut oak. Thatscent usually relaxes me, but right in this moment, it just claws at my nerves.

“We need to unload everything inside.”

I don’t look at her. Won’t. If I do, this stops being about donating a desk or a set of benches to Poppy’s theater.

If I look at her, all I’ll be able to think about is how easy it’d be to lift her onto the truck bed and take her up the mountain, where the only sounds are the creak of bedsprings and the wind through the pines.

That can’t happen. Not until I’ve made it clear what my business is.

Fuck,Idon’t even know what that is yet. Right now, I need to convince myself that this isn’t a moment of weakness or loneliness rearing its ugly head.

The brunette sputters at my words, her wide-eyed look suddenly turning into a full grimace. “Wait, you’re serious? I can’t—I mean, there’s like twenty pieces in there.”

I nod, agreeing with her observation skills.

“Twenty-five, if you want to count the different parts that need to be put together for the desk.”

Her lips part in shock, and she probably thinks I’m joking. I’m not.

“Poppy made it pretty clear with her no-refunds policy. So, if you don’t mind—” I motion to the benches before flicking my eyes over to the building. It’s a short walk, and I hardly had any issue loading up the moving truck by myself in the first place.

Lily makes a face, hardly trying to hide how much she doesn’t want to do a bit of hard labor. Well, since I’m donating my time for free,someonehas to pay.

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