“Dr Patterson,” Marcus sighs. “He’s caught up at the hospital. He was supposed to offer an evening of his company, brainy science stuff, you know? He was a big draw.”
Panic ripples through our little group. The auction is a key part of the fundraiser, and a last-minute cancellation is a logistical nightmare.
“Okay,” Sophie breathes, tapping her temple as if conjuring ideas. “We need a replacement. Fast.”
“Someone interesting,” Willow adds, bouncing Maeve slightly on her hip. “Someone people would actually pay to spend an evening with.”
The three of them turn to me in unison.
I blink. “What?”
Willow’s eyes light up. “Lila, you could do it!”
I stare at her like she’s just sprouted a second head. “Me? Why would anyone bid to spend an evening with me?”
Sophie rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. You’re charming, you’re talented, and you run one of the most beloved businesses in the community. You’re perfect.”
“You can offer something unique,” Olivia adds, her excitement growing. “Like an evening baking lesson. Or a private flower arrangement class. People would love that!”
I open my mouth to argue, but Willow steps in, nodding firmly. “She’s right. It’s a great idea.”
“But—”
Maeve bounces in Willow’s arms, eyes wide. “I’d bid for cookies!”
I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me, despite the lingering nerves. “You’d be my only customer, Maeve.”
Marcus sets a hand on my shoulder, his expression warm and sincere. “Seriously, Lila. You’d be helping us out.”
I hesitate, my heart pounding. But as I look around the room—at Sophie, at Marcus. This is a great cause, something that is close to their hearts, I know I can’t say no.
“Fine,” I say, exhaling sharply. “But don’t blame me if it’s a flop.”
Sophie claps her hands together, her grin wide and bright. “It’s going to be amazing. I can feel it.”
“Great,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “Now I just have to hope some poor soul wants to spend an evening with me.”
Sophie grins, hooking her arm through mine. “Trust me, Lila. This is going to be the highlight of the night.”
God, I hope not.
12
Lila
This was a terrible idea. I knew it when Sophie grabbed my hand and practically shoved me onto the stage, beaming like this was the most brilliant thing ever.
Standing under the intense spotlight, an entire ballroom watching me, my stomach is absolutely in my throat.
The auctioneer smiles at me, oblivious to my discomfort. “For our next auction item, we have something truly special.”
From the side of the stage, Sophie is grinning like an idiot, giving me an overly enthusiastic thumbs-up. Like this is fun. Like I’m not seconds away from spontaneous combustion.
I glare at her. She winks. She’s not about to be bid on like some charity dating show gone wrong. I plaster on a polite smile, hands clasped in front of me, ignoring the amused murmurs rippling through the crowd. Sophie had pitched this as a fun experience, an evening of baking and floral arranging, but the moment I stepped onto the stage, it became abundantly clear that some of the attendees, particularly the older men at the front tables—thought they were bidding on me, not a workshop.
I swear one of them just adjusted his glasses for a better look.
God, kill me now.
