Aunt Dixie fanned herself, put the glittery microphone back to her lips and said, “Look at that—no bad breakups. Trust me, that’s a rare quality in a man.”
“Or a sign I don’t commit,” Jack said.
“You committed to all of us,” Lila said. “Just not at the same time.”
The crowd lost it.
Jack shook his head at her. “That is not helping my case.”
“Sounds like you don’t need help,” someone else called.
Another wolf whistle sounded from the Grey peanut gallery.
“Two hundred and fifty!”
Was that Marcy again? Ugh.
“Two seventy-five!”
The numbers climbed fast, voices overlapping, laughter weaving through it all.
And then—
“Five hundred dollars.”
The voice cut clean through the noise. Sharp. Confident. Unamused.
Jack didn’t even have to look. He knew that voice. He closed his eyes briefly, wishing again for the ability to disappear at will. When his eyes opened, he was still on stage and he saw he was right about who had put in the most recent bid.
“Of course,” he muttered.
The bidder was someone even worse than the prospect of Marcy Simmons clinging to his side forevermore after a single purchased date.
Ashleigh Graves stood near the center of the crowd, arms crossed, expression cool and entirely too satisfied with herself for her commanding five-hundred-dollar bid.
Ashleigh, who had made it abundantly clear over the years that she found Jack Grey deeply interesting.
Jack, who had made it equally clear he did not return the sentiment. Every single time they encountered each other.
Their eyes met. She smiled at him, but it was not a sweet smile. It was not friendly. Oh, no. Her expression said that this was a challenge. She’d wanted him to bend to her will for years. He’d refused all of her advances. And this was her big chance.
Jack shook his head and pointed at her. “No. Just no.”
The crowd gasped, delighted.
Aunt Dixie slapped his arm. “You don’t get to say no!”
“I absolutely do when it’s her,” he shot back.
Ashleigh tilted her head. “Afraid of me, Jack?”
“Not afraid,” he said. “Just cautious. Like one is around varmints and snakes.”
“Ouch,” someone stage-whispered.
Ashleigh didn’t even flinch. “Good. Keeps things interesting.”
“Five hundred going once—” Landon started.
