Page 96 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
I snickered. I did like that he was being such a good sport about having his grandmother’s friend buy him.
“Actually, Wyatt,” Goldie eyed him for a moment, “my Sam would be terribly jealous if I went out with you, so I’ve decided to pass my date off to someone else.”
“What a turn of events, ladies and gentlemen!” Glamma cooed into the microphone, and I could’ve sworn she wasfocused directly on our table just before Goldie pointed. “Adele Masterson!”
Adele inhaled her white wine.
She coughed, gasped for breath, blinked, and opened her mouth to protest, but Glamma moved on before a single syllable could come out.
I pounded on her back.
Wyatt walked off stage, not bothering to hide a self-satisfied grin, the mischievous gleam in his eyes, or the confident, smug-like swagger.
Adele sat there completely still, likely in shock and unsure how to deal with this public ambush. I patted her knee, hoping to provide a smidge of comfort and praying Glamma wouldn’t pull that stunt with the last bachelor.
“And now,” Glamma said, “our final bachelor. Personally, one of my favorites. Ruby River’s most talented and eligible veterinarian—Marc Kingsley.”
The sound of his name caused a flutter within my veins that quickly spread throughout my traitorous body.
Marc walked out in a tux that had no business looking like that on a person, and my brain, which had been functioning normally up until that precise moment, briefly lost its signal.Holy crap, that man’s body… I was not going to finish that thought. I was going to sit here and behave like a reasonable adult who had not once expressed an opinion, out loud or in my head, on the exact width of those shoulders—or strength of those biceps.
Chaos took four steps onto the stage before promptly slipping out of his leash, like a tiny, confident escape artist, and sprinted backstage.
Marc ran after him.
The audience laughed and waited.
“This,” I said, “is going to be a disaster.”
“No.Thisis going to be comedy gold.” Cheryl glanced at me sideways. “You should bid on him.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Wouldn’t he then have to do what you wanted for the whole date?”
“That’s not a reason topurchase a human being.”
Adele, who had found her footing again and appeared to be channeling her current feelings into helpful advice for others, leaned in. “It’s for charity. And you still haven’t let go of your past anger. Maybe a date will help.”
“You still have anger,” I pointed out.
She paused. “My past anger is telling me you should make him squirm.”
“That’syouranger talking.”
“Surprisingly transferable.”
“This is ridiculous,” I said.
“It could be romantic,” Cheryl offered as Adele rolled her eyes.
“You only think so because you read morally gray romance,” I grumbled.
She grinned. “You want him.”
Now I was the one choking on my drink. “I’m not bidding on anyone.”
Adele gestured toward the empty stage. “Someone will.”
