Somewhere in Manhattan, four billionaires are playing cards around my empty chair. If they could see me right now, fixing my collar outside a small-town library because a schoolteacher took me down a peg and told me what to wear, our wager would have a new favorite by midnight.
With one last adjustment of my jacket, a gesture that feels more like armor-checking now, I head back inside. Time to facethe music, and the startling reality that the girl I used to tease might just be my biggest adventure yet.
The library's main room bustles with excitement as I step back inside. Every head turns my way, but for once I'm not basking in the attention. My usual easy confidence feels off-kilter, like a parachute with tangled lines.
"Mr. Bardot!" The auctioneer waves me over, beaming. "Quite a bidding war we just witnessed. Though I must say, none of us expected Ms. Gable to?—"
"Life's full of surprises," I cut in smoothly, though my smile feels forced. Across the room, Darcy stands with a cluster of women, probably plotting my imminent downfall. She’s become a true beauty. And the confidence in her bearing draws my eye despite my best efforts to look anywhere else.
She's different here. Not just different from how she was in high school, but different from the woman who just faced me down outside. Here she's in her element, moving through the crowd with an easy authority that has nothing to do with money or status. People gravitate toward her naturally.
"Quite a coup for our library fundraiser, landing the famous Finn Bardot." Mrs. Warren appears at my elbow, Mattichogue's longest-serving realtor and notorious gossip. "I certainly didn't expect Darcy Gable to be the highest bidder."
"That makes two of us." I manage my press-ready grin, the one that usually deflects uncomfortable conversations. But Mrs. Warren just raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"She's done quite well for herself, you know. Such a respected teacher. The whole town's proud of her." Her emphasis on "respected" isn't subtle. "I trust you'll be on your best behavior during your service hours."
"Naturally."
My usual charm fails me completely when Darcy looks my way again. Whatever's in her expression, it goes straight pastevery defense I've built since high school. She turns back to her friends, but I can't shake the feeling that in one glance, she's seen right through the glossy magazine version of Finn Bardot to the teenager who used to pull her metaphorical pigtails.
I need a drink.
I spot Evan in a quiet corner of the library, his broken leg propped on a leather ottoman that's probably as old as the building itself. His pain-med grin is way too satisfied.
"Not. One. Word." I drop into the armchair beside him.
"Did I say anything?" He gestures broadly at his cast. "I'm just a poor injured man, enjoying the show. And what a show it was."
"How are those meds treating you?"
"Well enough to fully appreciate watching my big brother get outmaneuvered by Darcy Gable." He tries to shift position and winces. "Man, the look on your face when she won?—"
"I thought you were in too much pain to make it tonight." I slide him an annoyed look. "Or was that just for Mom's benefit?"
"Please. I wouldn't miss this for anything." His grin softens slightly. "Though I gotta say, when I signed up for this auction, I didn't expect it to turn into a family affair."
"When you signed up?" I arch an eyebrow at him. "More like when Mom guilted you into it."
"Hey, some of us actually enjoy helping the community." He pauses. "Though probably not as much as you're going to enjoy it. Darcy’s looking good, isn’t she?"
I lean back and ignore the question, studying the library's vaulted ceiling. "I could still back out. Write a bigger check instead."
"No, you couldn't." Evan's voice is annoyingly certain. "And you won’t. Not after the way she looked at you."
I don't have a response for that. Because he's right. Backing out now would mean letting Darcy win. And I've never been good at backing down from a challenge.
"You know what's funny?" Evan shifts his cast again, clearly enjoying himself despite the pain. "All these society women from the city keep throwing themselves at you, and the one who finally catches your full attention is the same girl who used to correct your grammar in English class."
"Nobody’s caught anybody." I watch a group of elderly women whispering and pointing in my direction. "This is just temporary insanity brought on by family obligation and your inability to stay on a storage loft ladder."
"Right. Because you weren't just staring at her like she's your next wingsuit challenge."
"I was assessing the threat. That’s all."
"The threat." Evan's laugh turns into a grimace. "Wow. The great Finn Bardot, extreme sports legend, threatened by a high school English teacher."
"I'm not..." I catch myself before finishing that denial, because Darcy chooses that exact moment to walk past us. She doesn't even glance my way, but the deliberate way she doesn't look at me makes my pulse kick up.
