Page 87 of The Fire Captain's Unexpected Baby
There’s no one else in the room so long as she’s standing there in that dress, some sparkly kind of bluish fabric clinging to every curve of that body like a second skin. A body I remember in vivid detail. A body, a woman, a beauty, a magnetism, that has been hard to forget.
It’s been three years, but she’s got me in the same grip, like I’m back in that dive bar with her voice calling over my shoulder. Like no time has passed at all.
Except she wasn’t glaring at me then, blue eyes blazing as if she hopes the scorch of them might inflict some actual pain.
I deserve that.
“Should we open the bidding at $250?” the mayor says, and I swallow a snort at the sheer insult of it.
Summer stops glaring at me for half a second to cast a glance at the mayor, her nerves showing through the cracks of that beautiful face, so poised in that infuriating dress. The way it moves with her, each sparkle flashing, is calling me like a magpie to silver.
My hands curl against my thighs, suppressing an all too familiar itch to peel that dress off her and pretend itisthree years ago, up in my hotel room, before I got the call that mademe leave her there, tangled up in my sheets. A regret that’s taunted me more times than I’ll admit. One single night that has made it impossible to be with another woman without thinking abouther.
“$300? Do I hear $400? Now, $500?” The mayor rattles through the bids at a breakneck pace.
I don’t look for the bidders in the crowd, barely hear the numbers as they rise; I just look at her, savoring every second of her standing there where there’s no chance of us speaking. A safe distance, even if she’s much closer in my head.
The bids rocket upward, other men jostling each other, elbowing, calling out their competing offers as if they’re waving dollars at a strip joint. My lip curls and I tilt my head slowly from side to side to ease the growing tension in my neck.
“I got $2000!”
“He doesn’t have two dimes to rub together!” someone else shouts. “I’ve got $2500!”
On and on it rises, to the excited babble of the crowd, and it’s not just men bidding either. The ladies from the book club are just as swept up in it, offering up their monthly retirement payments for the chance to get Summer alone.
Then, to my equal relief and irritation, the bidding slows.
“Any advance on $4500? Do I hear $4750?” the mayor asks hopefully, searching the room with strained hope in his eyes. “$4600?”
It’s not enough for the hospital, and it’s damn sure not enough for Summer. She’s worth more than any of these folks have in their pockets, and more than I have in mine.
“Going once,” the mayor says, frowning.
I wasn’t planning to bid at all tonight, figuring I’d make an anonymous donation instead.
“Going twice.” The mayor is hesitant, searching the crowd more fervently.
But I suppose Icouldbid a fraction of what three dates with Summer is worth. It’s for a good cause, after all.
“Going—”
“$100,000,” I say, my hand up.
The town hall falls silent. I can feel those further back craning their necks to try and figure out who made the bid, while my crew turn and stare directly at me. I don’t much care; my focus fixed on the woman who has made dating impossible, so why not have three with her? Who knows, it might be exactly what I need to break the hold that night has on me.
The mayor coughs and sips from a bottle of water, his eyes bugging out of his head. For a moment, I brace to run up in case he passes out.
But he recovers quickly, dabbing at his sweaty brow with his sleeve. “Now, Mr. Murphy, this is no time for jokes. I wasn’t aware that our firefighters had so much money to burn!”
An awkward chuckle ripples around the room, the shocked tension easing a little.
“Helps when your dead father defended the mafia,” Levi mutters, eyebrow raised as if he can’t believe I’ve just outed myself as wealthy in such a public place.
As if the Crown Hill rumor mill wasn’t already plainly aware. There’s a reason that moms and grandmas have been shoving their daughters and granddaughters at me these past three years, and it has nothing to do with my promotion to squad boss. Of course, no one mentions it out loud, in case it lessens their chances of getting one of their own married to my fortune.
My father’s fortune.
“It does,” I reply to Levi with a humorless laugh, before raising my voice so the mayor can hear. “There’s no joke. $100,000. Final offer.”
