“Who is she?”
“It was probably just part of the show.”
“Maybe that’s Bryn from his socials.”
The whispers surround me as I beeline towards the bar with the full intention of disappearing into the kitchen. I don’t know whether to be embarrassed, pissed off, or to squeal with delight.
He claimed me. Wyatt was making sure that any person in here who might bid on him knew full well that his hat belonged on my head. Setting a tone.
Destroying any hearts before they can fall.
Keeping mine safe because I think maybe I have.
“Whooooa.” A figure appears from my right, just before I make it to the doors leading into the back. Quinn grabs hold of my arm, swinging me around to face the entire bar again. “This is the part you don’t want to miss.”
“Yes, I do,” I hiss at her. “I saw the show, claimed the hat, but donotwant to see anyone win a date with him.”
A slow, coy smile slides across her lips, her turquoise eyes lighting up with mischief. The same kind that I saw in Wyatt’s eyes moments before he dropped to the ground in front of me.
“I promise you do.”
Suspicion fills my belly, and I slide a hand down my stomachto calm it. “You knew he was going to do that, didn’t you?”
“I told you months ago we were going to find you a cowboy to marry,” she says, hugging my arm to her side. “What kind of wingwoman would I be if I let all of that burn now?”
“You knew—”
“Shhh,” she cuts me off, pointing at the stage. “Let’s see how much he’s going to spend.”
My head whips back towards her, unsure that I heard her correctly. “You mean how much someone is willing to pay for his date.”
Quinn’s eyes slide sideways towards me, but she just smiles, that coyness firmly in place. “Watch.”
Clamping my jaw together, I do as she says, looking up on the stage as Liam, still clad in his jeans and now-open shirt, points to someone in the crowd who has already placed a bid. Wyatt stands near his side, hands rubbing together in front of his chest. A very bare chest, since he lost his shirt at the end of his performance. Now that I’m closer than I was, though, there’s something there that I am positive wasn’t there the last time I saw him shirtless.
A new tattoo.
From this distance, I can’t read the script, but whatever it is takes up his entire left pec, swirls of vines or flowers linking it and the bear at the top of his shoulder.
“One thousand,” a voice in the crowd rings out.
Liam has time to point at it before another yells, “Fifteen.”
“Oh, he’s so fucked,” Quinn mutters with a hint of glee beside me.
Him.He’sso fucked. Why would Wyatt be fucked?
The bidding gets up to four thousand when a new voice calls, “Five thousand.”
A voice I know very well. One that was speaking to me beforeWyatt went on stage.
Gran.
“What the fuck is she doing?” I spit out, taking a step forward as though I’m going to run across the entire bar just to stop whatever crazy plan she’s concocted.
I’m an idiot. How did I not see her meddling coming? She said she wanted to join Mildred here tonight because Mildred always supports Nate—usually by winning Brody’s date, which is the only way he puts himself up for auction. But of course that was only an excuse.
“Spending Wyatt’s money,” Quinn states, like the words don’t blow up my entire brain.
