“I think there’s still something worth salvaging.”
“You’d be wrong.”
“We’ll see.” He raked his gaze over her. “Red is certainly your color.”
“Bye, Ryan.”
“’Til tomorrow.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
And today started off so well.
ALARIC
Face on fire, he stared at the smug blond exiting the building. Who the hell is this guy? No one paid ten thousand dollars for a girl they barely knew. He scanned the room, looking for signs of Rosaleen. The expression on her face sent up red flags. Weaving his way through the crowd, he wrapped an around her waist and guided her out into the hallway. “What happened?”
“That was my ex, Ryan.”
“What the hell is he doing here?”
“He showed up at the grand opening. I thought he left.”
“Wait. He was here, and you didn’t think to tell me?”
“It wasn’t important. He showed up, but I sent him away and let him know I wasn’t interested.”
“Apparently he didn’t get the message.”
“I see that now,” she said, shaking her head.
He scowled. “No man who isn’t incredibly invested spends ten thousand dollars on a date with a woman. He’s not going to disappear.”
“I can’t control what he does, Alaric.” The sound of his given name on her tongue made him wince.
“I don’t like being blindsided.”
She tilted her head. “And you think I did?”
“No. I’m not saying that.” He shook his head.
“Bachelor number forty-two. You’re up next.” A blond man with the clipboard and headphone appeared at his elbow.
“We’re not done talking about this.”
“No. We aren’t.” She folded her arms in front of her chest.
Following the organizer to the back, he wondered if she would even bid. Ryan needed to go. He’d been on the scene for less than a week, and things between them had gone from damn near perfect to rocky. Smoothing out the frown lines in his head, he put on a pleasant expression, and as he stepped out onto the stage, he felt his heart race.
“Alaric Bulley is the proud owner of the local business Just The Saw. This handsome eligible bachelor enjoys fishing, travel, and working with his hands. We’re opening the bidding now.”
“One hundred dollars.” Kasey’s voice rang out like nails on a chalkboard.
“One hundred and twenty-five,” a less familiar voice of a blonde with blue eyes said.
Sweat beaded on his brow. Is she truly that pissed?
“Five hundred.” Relief flooded him as Rosaleen lifted her paddle.
Silence filled the space. “Five hundred going once, going twice. Sold to the woman in the red dress with paddle number thirteen.”