Page 76 of Goalie and the Girl Next Door
Another voice, this one from the left as she raises her paddle.
And the bidding continues.
Non.Non, non, non.
I shift my weight, scanning the room for a trapdoor I can launch myself through. The spotlight is hot, and the stage suddenly feels ten times smaller.
“The lady in the back!” Ashlyn shouts.
Do they not see I’m not cut out for this? I glance toward the wings of the stage. Weston is doubled over laughing. Lucian gives me a double thumbs up like I’ve just won a gold medal in humiliation. Maybe if I faint—dramatically—they’ll carry me off the stage and we can pretend this never happened.
The bidding continues.
Where’s Marcy? What does she think of this?
“Next bid is the elderly lady on the far left!” Ashlyn claps.
Please,please, someone pull a fire alarm. Or release a goat. I need to stop this madness. NOW.
CHAPTER 27
MARCY
Ihaven’t been this nervous since I agreed to audit the elementary school that kept its records in crayon.
Clément is on stage, tall and dazzling in that team suit, looking like he wandered out of a European fashion spread. The crowd is hollering, women waving paddles and grinning like they’re bidding on a beach vacation with room service and candlelight, not a very flustered Frenchman who’s two seconds from bolting off stage.
His smile is polite, but not real. I can see it. His eyes are darting, searching the room with a wide, bewildered energy. Despite the playful tilt of his mouth, he looks like a man dying to escape.
And now that I’m really watching him, I know he doesn't want this attention. Not from the beautiful women near the front row. Not from the flirty octogenarian in the red hat who keeps yelling things like “Take off your cravat, sweetheart!”
He’s floundering. And for some reason, it hits me hard.
This isn’t the Clément who flirted with me over cupcakesor coaxed Edgar into obedience like a goat-whispering magician. This is a man who looks trapped.
And I hate it.
It’s not that I’m against charity. Or even against lighthearted objectification. This is Maple Falls, after all, and this entire town runs on baked goods, nostalgia, and mild scandal. But there’s something in Clément’s face right now, something real and raw andnot okay.
I never expected to feel connected to him, not after the lies about tonight. But here I am, heart climbing into my throat as I hope someone will throw him a lifeline.
The paddle the mayor tried to hand me earlier flashes in my mind. I should’ve taken it, just in case. Not because I wanted to own a date with a man I’m desperately trying not to fall for, but because I could’ve gotten him out of this.
My fingers tighten around the hem of my dress. I’ve been hiding behind my principles, my spreadsheets, and my skepticism, but the truth is I care. I care too much. And I can’t unsee the way he looked for me in the crowd.
Then Ashlyn calls out again: “Going once, going twice…”
My heart lurches. And then in a clear and thunderous deep voice, “Over here!”
Heads swivel. Mine whips around so fast my neck pops. “Scotty?”
He’s grinning like a man who just told the punchline.
Angel lets out a shocked laugh. “What are you doing?”
Scotty leans back in his chair, completely unbothered. “What? I’ve been needing to rebuild the northern paddock. Man like that could help me pour new footers and haul fencing for miles. Did you see those arms? He’s a regular French excavator.”
My jaw drops. “You’re betting on a date to use Clément as ranch labor?”
