Page 15 of Auctioned to the Devil

Then I turn and leave before she can ask me anything else.

I don’t look back.

I don’t need to.

I can feel her watching me all the way up the trail.

Chapter 3

Emily

By seven thirty, I’ve learned three important things about Devil’s Peak.

Everyone drinks whiskey.

Everyone knows everyone else’s business.

And apparently putting a single man on a stage turns perfectly respectable women into animals.

“Take your shirt off!” a woman near the bar shouts.

The lodge erupts in cheers.

The poor guy onstage looks horrified.

“I’m not taking my damn shirt off.”

“Come on. It’s for charity!”

“That’s not how charity works.”

“Sounds like somebody doesn’t care about saving lives.”

The room explodes again and I laugh into my wine.

The Spring Rescue Charity Auction might be the strangest fundraiser I’ve ever attended, but it’s also exactly what I needed after two days of staring at foundation cracks and wondering whether I’ve made the biggest financial mistake of my life.

The old mountain lodge is packed. Strings of lights hang from exposed beams, a country band plays between auction rounds, and nearly everyone I’ve met since arriving has stopped by my table to introduce themselves.

Or interrogate me.

Mostly interrogate me.

Sally drops into the empty chair beside me and immediately steals one of my fries.

“Having fun?”

“Something like that.”

I’m still laughing when the front doors open.

I know who it is before I even turn.

The room changes when Caleb Mercer walks inside.

Dark jeans. Black button-down. Sleeves rolled over thick, tattooed forearms.

He looks freshly showered, which shouldn’t be noteworthy, except yesterday he looked like he’d spent the morning wrestling a bear and today he looks like the reason women make catastrophically bad decisions.