Page 75 of Goalie and the Girl Next Door
I step into the spotlight while searching for one woman in a sea of strangers.
The light blinds me the moment I step past the curtain. I lift my hand instinctively, shading my eyes. The crowd is cheering louder than I expect. Someone hoots, another whistles. A voice near the front calls out, “Talk in French!” followed by a more indelicate suggestion I pretend not to hear.
“Bonjour…” I squint, peering through the beams and shadows, scanning the rows. Where is she?
There she is.
Back right, exactly where Jamie said. Arms crossed, shoulders tight, and her mouth set in a line that could cut granite.
But she’s here.
Relief floods me so fast I laugh—just a small puff of air, a crooked smile pulling at my mouth before I can stop it. I shift on stage, forgetting to pose or smile or do any of the things I’m supposed to do because all I can think is—she came.
Even now, with all these people and that horrified look on her face, she’s the most captivating thing in the room.
But why would she come, if being here clearly makes her want to spontaneously combust?
Maybe she’s just supporting the town. Doing her civic duty. That would be logical.
Or maybe… could she be here to bid on one of the other guys?
I can’t imagine her doing that, but if she did, who would it be? Not Weston. Not Asher. And definitely not Carson, given that she has seen how crazy he is about Bailey.
She’d never do that.
Would she?
Non.I shut that thought down immediately.
Ashlyn’s voice barrels on. “Yes, ladies, that accent is real—and so is his talent on the ice. On top of that, Clément Rivière is also restoring one of Maple Falls’ most beloved properties, the old MacDonald place.”
Wait—what?
I lower my hand just slightly, blinking toward Ashlyn. “Pardon?” I say, loud enough for Ashlyn—and everyone else—to hear. “My historic house belonged to the MacDonalds?”
Ashlyn chuckles, lifting a hand to settle the room. “You want to talk about real estate now, Clément?” Laughter bubbles through the crowd, but Ashlyn plays along. “Yes, folks, our bachelor has questions. That’s how you know he’s not from here.”
I step forward without meaning to, suddenly more invested in the announcement than the event. “What do you know about the house?”
“The MacDonald house belonged to the very family that helped found Maple Falls, way back when the town was still a smudge on the train maps.” She leans in close to me so that her voice doesn’t project over the mic. “Yep, the very family trying to destroy us now.”
My heart knocks harder. I knew it was a great place, but I didn’t realize just how much a part of history it was.
On instinct, I look over the crowd to the place where Marcy sits and mouth, “Do you hear this, Marcy? Isn’t that amazing?” Even though I’m blinded by the lights, I’m sure I see her rub her forehead with a little smile in the corner of her mouth.
Ashlyn turns back to the crowd. “That’s right. Clément is restoring the place to its former glory, ladies!A man who can play goalie, bake soufflés, and is bringing back a bit of Maple Falls history. What more could you want?”
Someone from the crowd yells, “A shirtless portrait!”
“Shall we open the bidding?” Ashlyn calls.
My head jerks toward the crowd again. I’m supposed to be posing, smiling, letting people fight over me. I shove my hands in my pockets and hope that does the job.
“Over here!” someone shouts.
My stomach lurches.
“Me!”
