"Is it just me," I murmur to Jules as we claim spots near the back, "or are there more people than usual this year?"
"Definitely more." Jules stands on tiptoe to see over the crowd. "Word must’ve gotten out about one of the Bardot brothers being up for auction. Half these women probably drove in from Southold and Greenport."
Great. Not only am I participating in this circus, but it's apparently turned into a regional event. I should be home reading submissions for tomorrow's creative writing workshop at the library. Instead, I'm squeezed between my best friends and what appears to be the entire North Fork chapter of Bardot Brother Admirers Anonymous.
"And now," Mom continues, practically glowing, "I have a very special announcement about tonight's lineup..."
Her tone makes me pause with my punch halfway to my lips. I know that voice. It's the same one she used to announce she was dating Ted, back when I was in high school. The one that means change is coming, whether I'm ready or not.
"Due to an unfortunate accident, Evan Bardot won't be able to join us tonight." A collective groan rises from the crowd. Annie's grip on my arm tightens painfully. "However, we are absolutely thrilled to announce that his brother, Finn, has graciously agreed to take his place."
The punch glass nearly slips from my suddenly numb fingers. Because striding onto that makeshift stage, all confident grace and casual arrogance, is Finn Bardot.
And he looks even better than he did in high school, damn him.
Ten years have been unfairly kind to Finn Bardot. He moves across the stage like he owns it, with the easy confidence of someone who regularly risks his life and limb for fun. The lanky teenager who used to slouch in the back of English class has filled out into broad shoulders and lean muscle, obvious even under his casual blazer and designer jeans. His sandy hair is artfully mussed, like he just finished some thrilling adventure, and that infamous smirk—the one that used to short out my concentration even while he was mocking my vocabulary—has only grown more devastating with age.
This is not happening.
"Oh my God," Annie breathes beside me. "What happened to Evan? He’s standing in the wings on crutches!"
"Darcy?" Jules touches my arm. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
More like the physical manifestation of every mortifying high school memory I've spent a decade trying to forget. I can't seem to look away as Mom introduces him, not that she needs to. Every woman in the room is already leaning forward, drawn tothat magnetic combination of billion-dollar success and bad-boy charm.
"As I'm sure many of you know," Mom gushes into the microphone, "Finn Bardot is the founder and CEO of Bardot Adventure Enterprises. We're so fortunate that he's taken time from his busy schedule to help support our library."
"Busy schedule?" I mutter, finding my voice at last. "Since when does he care about anything in Mattichogue?"
But Finn just grins at the crowd, somehow managing to look both sheepish and entirely too pleased with himself.
"Happy to help," he says into the mic, and his voice, deeper now than I remember, lands somewhere below my collarbone. My body files the sensation under "unwelcome" and underlines it twice. "Though I should warn everyone, I'm not nearly as well-behaved as my little brother."
The resulting wave of feminine sighs makes me want to gag. Or possibly hide behind the nearest bookshelf with a copy of Jane Austen for protection.
"Bidding will start at five hundred dollars," the auctioneer announces, and Annie's paddle nearly smacks me in the face as her hand drops limply to her side.
"Well," Cathy says with forced brightness, "this is an unexpected turn of events."
That's when Finn's gaze finally sweeps the crowd, and locks directly onto mine. For a moment, surprise flashes across his features, quickly masked by that infuriating confidence. But there's more in his face than that, and whatever it is makes my chest go tight. Recognition. Interest.
Maybe even a hint of... regret?
No. I'm not doing this. I refuse to let Finn Bardot's return to Mattichogue affect me. I'm not that insecure girl anymore, the one who used to practice witty comebacks in the mirror just incase he called on me to demonstrate my "impressive vocabulary" in front of everyone.
"Do I hear five hundred?" The auctioneer's voice echoes through the room. "Ladies, this is a chance to have one of America's most eligible bachelors at your service for an entire weekend."
Before I can stop myself, I grab the paddle from Annie's slack grip. Her startled "What are you doing?" barely registers as I thrust it into the air.
"Five hundred dollars!" My voice rings out clear and strong, causing heads to turn. Including Finn's. His eyes widen slightly, that arrogant smile faltering for just a moment.
Good. Let him wonder. Let him worry about what Dictionary Darcy has planned for his weekend of service.
Because revenge, like vocabulary, is best served with precision.
"Six hundred!" calls a voice from the front. I recognize Sarah Whitaker from the insurance office.
"Seven hundred!" That's definitely Jessica Mills, who runs the wine shop downtown.
