Page 8 of So This Isn't Love
"No. Not happening."
"But you're here anyway," Evan points out, perking up despite the pain meds. "And it's just one weekend."
"I would rather jump out of a helicopter." I hold up my hand. "Which, by the way, I have actually done. Multiple times. And I'd still rather do that than?—"
"You know, this town has been very good to our family," Mom says quietly, her fingers finding the wedding ring she still wears. "Your father never missed a local charity event."
Oh, she fights dirty. "Yeah, well, Dad's not here, is he?"
Silence falls. Even through his pain-med haze, Evan winces. Colton's watching me with that same steady look he used to give me whenever I was about to do something stupid, like the time I "borrowed" Dad's vintage Mustang and wrapped it around a tree.
I drag a hand down my face. Ten years of carefully maintained distance, and it takes less than an hour for them to pull me right back in.
"Fine," I growl. "But I'm not flexing on any runway."
Mom's already tearing up. Colton's trying not to smirk. And I'm wondering if I can book that helicopter jump for tomorrow night instead.
But I can handle this. One weekend of honey-do chores for some sweet old lady of Mattichogue, in exchange for a library roof and my mother's peace of mind.
Seriously. How bad could it be?
CHAPTER 4
DARCY
The historic Mattichogue Library has been transformed for tonight's auction. Ancient oak shelves tower above strings of twinkling lights, their familiar musty warmth mingling with the smells of coffee and fresh flowers. The leather chairs where I used to hide with my books during high school have been pushed back to make room for cocktail tables, already crowded with the town's eager bidders.
It's almost enough to make me forget I'm about to help bid on a Bardot.
"I can't believe you actually came." Annie bumps my shoulder, dark eyes sparkling. She's dressed to impress in a burgundy wrap dress that makes my conservative cream blouse and black pencil skirt feel like the reliable teaching uniform it is. "Thanks for contributing to the cause."
"The library needs a new roof." I take a sip of decidedly weak punch, eyeing the growing crowd of what appears to be every single woman in Mattichogue. "It has nothing to do with your crush on Evan Bardot."
"Come on, Darce." Jules appears at my other side, her long blonde hair swept up in an elegant twist. "At least admit this is more entertaining than grading papers on a Friday night."
"I'm here because Mom guilt-tripped me about community support." I straighten my shoulders, comfortable in the same professional attire I wore to teach AP English this morning. "Nothing more."
"Speaking of your mom..." Cathy nods toward the makeshift stage, where my mother, Clara, is conferring with the auctioneer, her librarian-chic outfit perfectly pressed despite hours of setup. "She's really outdone herself this year."
I have to agree. The annual Bachelor Auction for Literacy has grown from a modest fundraiser into the social event of the spring, thanks to Mom's tireless organizing. Usually I just write a small check and avoid the spectacle entirely, preferring to spend my Friday nights with a stack of essays and a cup of tea. But Annie's pleading eyes and Mom's gentle guilt trip about "supporting the community" proved a lethal combination.
"Five hundred dollars," Annie says, clutching our collective bidding paddle like it's a rare first edition. "That's our starting limit for Evan, right? Unless someone drives up the price... oh God, what if someone outbids us?"
"Then you'll have to find another eligible bachelor to pine over." I scan the crowd gathering around the makeshift stage. Mrs. Peters, my old AP English teacher, catches my eye and waves. I wave back, wondering if she remembers how I used to hide behind classic novels during lunch period. "Though I'm not sure why you're so set on a Bardot. Their family drama is legendary."
"Says the woman who can quote entire passages of Wuthering Heights," Jules teases. "You'd think you'd appreciate a good dramatic family saga."
"I appreciate fiction." I watch Mom adjust the microphone stand, ever the perfectionist. "The real-life version tends to be messier. And harder to analyze through a literary lens."
"Oh my God, you really are Dictionary Darcy," Cathy laughs, then immediately covers her mouth. "Sorry! I didn't mean..."
"It's fine." I force a smile, though the old nickname still stings. "That was a long time ago. I've embraced my inner word nerd. Made a career of it, even."
Annie squeezes my arm. "And you're the best English teacher Mattichogue High has ever had."
A burst of feedback from the microphone cuts her off, making everyone wince. Mom taps the mic twice, then beams at the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen! If you'll all find your seats, we're about to begin our seventh annual Bachelor Auction for Literacy!"
The crowd surges forward. I nearly lose my footing as what seems like half the female population of Mattichogue jostles for position. Annie clutches the bidding paddle to her chest like a shield.
