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Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Cole walking up beside me, determined to outbid me. He shot me a cold look, but I ignored it. I kept my eyes on the prize. I kept my eyes on her.
When she darted her gaze through the crowd, her brown stare found mine. I smiled a little. She made me do that a lot lately—smile.
“I think for such a special lady, for such a special basket, we should start the bidding around two hundred dollars, shall we?” Tatiana said.
Cole’s hand started to fly up to bid, but I spoke loudly and boldly before he could. “Twenty thousand.”
Everyone gasped from shock, and I was almost certain I’d heard Yara mutter her first bad word.
She grabbed the microphone from Tatiana. “He didn’t mean that, everyone, don’t worry.”
“I meant that,” I corrected. Cole’s hand dropped swiftly, a clear sign he wasn’t going to debate me at all. “Twenty thousand dollars.”
Before Yara could speak again, Tatiana grabbed the microphone and said, “Sold, to the handsome gentleman with the best empanadas in town.”
“Oh my goodness, what’s wrong with you?” Yara shouted as her eyes bugged out of her head. Her shock was more than enough to make every dollar worth it. Little did she know, I was ready to spend fifty thousand. Each year, I made it a mission to donate to a good cause, and I couldn’t think of a better one than Yara. Plus, the defeated look on Cole’s face was enough to make it worthwhile.
“You just wasted your money,” Cole grumpily stated as he walked past me. “I’ve had her basket for years. Not worth it.”
“I suppose she’s just out of your budget range nowadays,” I replied.
His face was the shade of a tomato as he stomped off.
“Thank you, everyone, for donating! And please, keep the celebration going! All venues for the festival are donating ten percent of their sales to The Pup Around the Corner, so go spend your money for a good cause,” Tatiana said. “And all you picnic basket cuties, go on and pick out your spot for the night firework display for your dates under the stars. Hillstack is now open for the picnic spreads to be unleashed.”
Yara walked off the stage and headed toward me at a quick pace. The moment she reached me, she shoved my shoulder. “Are you mad?”
“Quite happy, actually, thank you for asking.”
“I’m serious, Alex. That’s too much money.”
“You deserve it. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. I can’t let you do that.”
I slid my hands into the pockets of my pants and shrugged. “Too bad, Goldie. It’s already done.”
Her eyes flashed with emotions, and she bit her bottom lip. “You don’t know how much that will help me right now. I don’t have enough words…but…”
“Don’t cry,” I whispered, stepping closer to her. “I hate it when you cry.”
“Tough, buddy. I cry over everything. The other day, I saw a commercial about a bird dying and sobbed through it. Then I saw the Lewis Capaldi video for ‘Wish You the Best’, and I sobbed so hard I thought I’d lose a lung from a maddening breathing pattern. Then I rewatched the video so I could feel again. I. Am. A. Crybaby,” she breathed out, with tears slipping from her eyes.
“Fine. But if you cry,” I said, moving my thumb to her cheek, “you’ll have to deal with me wiping the tears away.”
“Fair enough.”
I wanted to kiss her again. I hadn’t stopped wanting to kiss her. I wanted her mouth to find mine, and her tongue to find mine, too. I wanted to taste her and hold her and—
“Okay, well, I need to go set up our picnic spot,” she mentioned, breaking me from my thoughts that I shouldn’t have been thinking. “You should meet me at Hillstack at seven.”
“How will I know where you are?”
“Trust me.” She grinned. Swinging her hips from side to side, she was downright giddy. “You won’t miss me. I’ll see you soon.” She began to walk away, and my eyes moved directly to her bottom half. “Oh, and, Alex?” She flipped around quickly and caught me staring. Busted.
I cleared my throat and redirected my eyes to hers. “Yeah?”
“That kiss.” Her dimples deepened, and she mouthed, “Oh my gosh,” toward me as her hands fell to her chest before she continued walking away. “And stop looking at my butt,” she said.
I wouldn’t.
I couldn’t.
But she wasn’t wrong about one thing.
That kiss.
When Yara said I wouldn’t have any trouble spotting her, she wasn’t kidding. As I walked up the hill to find her, I saw a display of balloons that read, Happy 35th Birthday. In front of said balloons were two wrapped gifts, and a smiley Yara wearing a light-pink dress was on the picnic blanket.
“Happy birthday!” she cheered, tossing her hands up into the air as she hopped up from her sitting position. She hurried over to me and hugged me. “One day late, that is.”
