Page 34 of Another Man’s Treasure

Oz bats his lashes. “Maybe I like to be chased, Wilder. Had you considered that?”

Visions assault my mind, filling it with devious thoughts as my nostrils flare. Like before, I bend low and bury my nose in his neck. I get the faintest hint of masculine aftershave and something more delicate, like cedar.

“Will the Sweetheart dates please join us on the stage?” Lemon’s voice rings out over the ice, distracting us both.

Males begin leaving the ice to gather their shoes. Oz looks at them briefly, but his focus returns to me. “Well, I guess I’d better go.”

I still haven’t let him go. In fact, I think his comment makes me pull him closer because the idea of letting go is so unpalatable.

Dark lashes flutter against amethyst cheekbones. “Wild, I⁠—”

“Will the Sweethearts—cough, cough, that’s you Ozifer—please join us up on the stage?” another announcement rings out over the crowd.

“That’s me!” Oz chirps as he pulls ever so slightly away. “Wish me luck and maybe drive up the bidding if you can.”

Forcing a supportive smile, I watch him go. He leaps gracefully into the air, pulling his skates off as he heads for where we left our shoes. At the shoe station, Saint sits alone. Oz is careful to sit at the far end of the log, but Saint moves closer.

It boils my blood, watching the male who hurt Oz’s feelings try to get close to him again. I’m not a fool; I see what he’s doing. And I couldn’t blame Oz for taking Saint up on any sort of offer he might make. They have history, even though Oz doesn’t appear to care for him in the slightest.

Moving carefully, I cross the pond and pull my skates off. It’s a relief to stick my feet back in cowboy boots where they belong. Oz is already gone, having disappeared toward the stage set up at the far end of the pond. Saint’s still seated on the log, slowly pulling fancy wingtip shoes back on.

“I hate this fucking cold,” he mutters.

I’m gonna pretend I don’t know he’s talkin’ to me, because the longer I spend around this guy, the more I wanna deck him for his attitude. Then I remember he’s the key to my deal getting done, so I glance over with a big fake smile. “Ain’t you from New York City, Saint? I know it gets cold there, and the humidity makes it a hundred times worse. I been there once. That wind whippin’ between the buildings about froze me to my core.”

He offers me a halfhearted smile. “That’s why you take a Town Car everywhere, have someone else open your door, and you don’t go outside or, gods forbid, walk anywhere.”

“Hard for me to imagine that,” I admit, resting my forearms on my knees. “I grew up on a farm in Laporte, used to get up at four a.m. every mornin’ to feed the animals with my mom. The cold is just a part of farm life.”

“I’d hate that. So would Oz,” says Saint, smirking at me.

That pulls a real chuckle outta me, and I shoot him a wry look. “I’m not sure the Oz you think you know is who he is these days.” I think about how he huddled against me inside the sleeping bag. “He loves his warmth, of course, but he’s happy here. We’re happy here,” I tack on.

Saint stands and stretches, lifting his arms above his head, a move that reveals the lowermost portion of his abs. “If you say so, Mister Lane.”

I watch as he goes, trying to see what Oz might have seen in him. Ashbourne moves easily through the crowd, stepping with the telltale grace of a vampire. But it’s still clear he’s uncomfortable in the way he hunches and looks from side to side constantly.

Another announcement tells us the date auction is starting any minute, so I leave Saint behind and pick my way through groups of monsters to the main area. Folks I’m starting to recognize are crowded around a small stage. Fifteen or so monsters stand with Lemon, who holds the microphone. Her mate is there, as well as Hadrian and one of the bartenders from Betty’s Burger Bar. I don’t recognize the rest, but it’s nice to see the community come together like this.

Although, from everything I’ve read and seen so far, Pine Gulch hosts a lot of events. Like I told Oz, events ain’t really my thing, but it’s easy to see the Gulchers are a tight-knit group. While there are plenty of tourists, everyone acts like they know everyone.

The crowd starts to get rowdy, catcalling at the males up on stage. Oz winks and waves at a few select folks, and I find myself looking around, wondering who he’s so friendly with.

No. No, Wilder, no. I can’t get possessive over my fake boyfriend. What the hells would Willa say if she were here? And where even is she? I haven’t seen her for a few days, which is not at all atypical, but still. It’s not like her to miss a party.

“You missin’ me, Wild?”

I turn, surprised to see her standing by my side. She chuckles and slips her arm through mine.

“Don’t worry. You’re not this transparent to anyone else. Just me.” She looks around at the gathered crowd. “Big turnout. Lots of cool monsters here. I’ve been spending some time with the haven for the last few days, getting to know her nooks and crannies. It’s been…interesting.”

Glancing down, I frown. “What do you mean, interesting?” It’s then I notice a bruise along her jawline, coloring her pale green skin nearly emerald. Spinning, I release an angry growl. “Who did this to you, Wills? What the fuck happened?”

She shrugs. “Nothing you need to worry about. I wanted to get a better sense of this place, and after doing so, I like it for you. I really like it for you. And I might like it for me too, if you’re sticking around.”

“That depends on us finalizing the sale,” I remind her.

She looks toward the stage, smiling and waving at Oz. “Don’t worry, big brother, I’ve got my eyes on that prize.”