Page 19 of Auctioned To Be Mine

“Your father would,” she said. “But you’re better than that.”

Dad looked like he wanted to argue but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“You and Drew are doing it,” Dad said with finality. “Lauren will send you the details.”

“Great,” I muttered.

Mom kissed my cheek again. “It’ll be fine. And who knows? Maybe it’ll be fun.”

I seriously doubted that.

They left a few minutes later, and I stood in the middle of the showroom feeling like I’d just been railroaded. I pulled out my phone and texted Drew: We need drinks. Now.

Drew: Meet you at Sullivan’s in twenty.

That’s why Drew and I got along so well. No questions asked. Then again, it’s also why we managed to get into trouble. Maybe one of us should ask more questions.

I got to Sullivan’s before Drew did and claimed our usual table in the back corner. The bartender knew me well enough to have a whiskey delivered by the time I sat down. I downed half of it before Drew walked in, looking entirely too cheerful for someone who was about to get the same bad news I’d just received.

“What’s got you so twisted up?” he asked, dropping into the chair across from me.

“Dad volunteered us for a charity auction.”

Drew blinked. “What kind of auction?”

“The kind where desperate women bid on dinner dates with us. Said it’s for a good cause.”

He started laughing. “Oh, that’s what this is about? Come on, man. That’s not the end of the world.”

“Have you ever been to one of these things?”

“No, but how bad can it be?”

I stared at him. “These women are paying for the privilege of spending time with us. They tend to get a little handsy.”

“So we manage their expectations and set boundaries.” He signaled the bartender for his own drink. “It’s one dinner. Two hours max. We eat, we make small talk, we take a picture, and we leave. Easy.”

“Nothing about this is easy.”

“You’re worrying for nothing.” His drink arrived and he took a long sip. “What if the winners are super-hot twins?”

He winked, and despite myself, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. “That’s not going to happen.”

“But what if it did?” He leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Come on. At least try to see the upside here.”

“There is no upside.”

“The upside is that it’s good press before the store opening. Maybe you’ll get lucky and meet someone who isn’t a complete nightmare. And then you’ll get lucky. Wink. Wink.”

I drained the rest of my whiskey and signaled for another. “You’re not actually supposed to say wink wink when I’m sitting across from you. And this will be a nightmare. I can feel it.”

“You’re a pessimist.” He raised his glass. “To charity. And to the very slim possibility that this won’t be a complete disaster.”

I clinked my glass against his, but I didn’t share his optimism.

8

VICTORIA