Love in the Time of Conversation Hearts (Holidays in Heartsong #1)

B MINE. AGAIN

About an hour and a half into the party, I have to admit things are going really well. The silent auction is bringing in record bids, if my casual perusal of the bid sheets and estimated mental math is any indication. The champagne is flowing, the wines Lauren brought in from the winery seem well-received, and I’ve heard at least eight separate people compliment the deviled eggs. No way in hell am I admitting that to Harrison, though.

As the plated meal is wrapping up—pistachio-crusted grouper with red potatoes—I round up the book club for our annual photo. We stand in front of one of the selfie station backdrops holding picture props with varying levels of appropriateness. Charlie is unsurprisingly the worst offender, holding hearts in front of her chest like a mermaid’s seashells. Harrison jumps in at the last minute with heart glasses and an antennae headband. The picture we end up with has Charlie cackling, Aubrey folding her arms exasperatedly, me yelling at Harrison not to ruin the shot, Lauren jumping out of his way, and Dorothy smiling off to the side as if nothing is happening.

I’ll probably cherish it forever.

Lauren wasn’t wrong, of course. I needed to loosen up, and with a few glasses of wine and a delicious meal in my belly, I find I’m at least able to enjoy the night. I’m in my element, greeting everyone with a firm handshake and a smile and showing off my new, red velvet wrap dress with its flutter sleeves and big bow.

No sense in letting Adam–or my unresolved feelings for him– ruin my favorite night of the year.

When Daphne takes the microphone to usher in the date auction portion of the evening, she mentions just how excited she is about the lineup this year. The audience agrees with a polite round of applause. Meanwhile, my cheeks are simmering. Against my better judgment, I lock eyes with Adam as he rises out of his seat, where that bouquet of roses still sits. He offers me his signature wink. All I can give him is a tight-lipped smile in return.

With a furrowed brow, he straightens his jacket and diverts his gaze. Instead of heading back behind the catwalk with the others, he pulls his secretary, Bianca, aside. They speak for a moment, then she traipses off while Adam takes his place with the others.

Dorothy takes the microphone next, and I do my best to turn my focus to my friend instead of Adam’s every move, hard as it may be. She volunteered to be this year’s auctioneer. Historically, it’s been my job, but with a pit of dread growing in my stomach at the thought of watching people bid on Adam, I’m glad she offered to step in. I don’t think I could have kept a neutral expression on my face while that happened.

Lauren sashays over to me with a glass of wine in each hand, the pink sequins on her bodycon dress sparkling in the pin lights over the catwalk.

“I thought you might need some liquid courage,” she says, pressing the cool glass into my hand.

“You thought right,” I say, taking a sip. “Oh, this is delicious. Am I getting notes of green apple? Lemon?”

Lauren nods slightly, her eyes on the stage as Dorothy introduces the first date. “Both. I’ve taught you well.”

I tip my chin to her, conceding. The bidding dies out quickly, and whoever won makes their way to the catwalk for a picture before Dorothy starts the bidding for the next candidate. I try to nurse my wine throughout the bidding, but it goes down way too smoothly, so by the time Dorothy calls Charlie’s name as the second-to-last date, I’m left holding an empty glass. Charlie saunters to the front of the stage, her platinum hair practically glowing on top of her silver dress. She looks like a disco ball in the bright lights, but in the best way.

“Our girl cleans up nice,” Lauren mutters to me as if reading my mind. I hum my amused agreement. Despite her resistance to be in the spotlight, Charlie absolutely shines.

“Let’s start the bidding at one hundred dollars. Do I hear one hundred?” Dorothy asks the crowd. A hand raises in the darkness to my left. Dorothy acknowledges it, and Charlie barely manages to cover up a grimace.

“How about one hundred fifty? Anyone out there for one seventy-five?” Dorothy coaxes. “Did I mention this one bites?” she adds with a chuckle.

At that, another hand raises toward the center of the room. Charlie almost visibly shudders, then shoots a panicked glance off to the right of the catwalk.

“Two hundred!” comes a familiar voice in the general direction of Charlie’s pleading look. Her shoulders relax, and she flashes a gorgeous smile. Harrison steps closer to the stage, and she tracks his movement, grinning at him the whole time.

“Huh,” I say, surprised. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“Didn’t you?” Lauren says into her wine.

“What do you mean?” I ask, turning toward her. “Did I miss something?”

She shrugs as one of the original bidders shouts, “Three hundred!”

“Four hundred!” Aubrey’s sweet voice cuts through the chatter. Harrison turns to look at her incredulously. She makes a helpless sound, then covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. “I got caught up,” she says, her giggle rising above the noise of the room. Lauren and I both chuckle.

Harrison looks up at Charlie, who shrugs. He rolls his eyes, then shouts, “Five hundred.”

“So he does have money,” I mutter. Lauren snickers.

“Sold, for five hundred!” Charlie yells, pumping her fists in triumph.

“That’s not—” Dorothy starts.

Charlie cuts her off with a razor-sharp glare. “I said, sold. For. Five. Hundred.”

Dorothy bangs her gavel. “Sold for five hundred, I guess?”

The audience is barely containing their laughter as Harrison jumps up on the catwalk for their photo.

“And now, get your pocketbooks ready, everyone. It’s time for our last bachelor, and he’s a cutie.” She leans into the microphone and says conspiratorially, “I can say that because I’m old.”

Laughter rises again from the audience as Dorothy wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. Charlie and Harrison make their way to join me at the back of the crowd. Aubrey tracks their movement across the space, then turns to say something to the man she’s sitting next to—her neighbor, I think, though it’s hard to tell in the darkness of the room—and leaves him to join us.

“You all don’t have to stand back here with me,” I say when we’re all together.

Aubrey shrugs. “What are friends for?”

“Yeah,” Charlie says. “We want a front-row seat so we can see what you’re gonna do.”

I eye her sidelong. “To think I was starting to feel warm and fuzzy at your kindness,” I say flatly.

“We’re here for you,” Lauren assures me with a squeeze of my shoulders.

“Even if he didn’t come with the roses I told him to bring,” Harrison grumbles.

“You mean the ones on his table?” Aubrey muses.

“Wait, you told him to bring roses?” I ask.

Harrison’s eyes grow wide, as if he’s just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “He asked. I mean… shit. Was that bad?”

My gaze flicks back to the catwalk as Adam struts down the runway. God, that man is so full of himself. But it works for him. Dorothy is right. It’s cute .

“I don’t know,” I say honestly as Dorothy opens the bidding.

“You know the deal by now. Let’s start the bidding at one hundred,” she croons into the microphone.

“Three hundred,” Daphne calls from her table, her ringlets jittering with excitement.

“Oh.” Dorothy barely masks her surprise. She glances in my direction. “That’s quite the jump.”

“Four hundred,” comes a shout from the edges of the room. I can’t see who said it, but it doesn’t matter because Daphne jumps right back in at five hundred. The other woman counters at six. Dorothy glances at me, then drops the hand holding her microphone to her side while Daphne shoots exasperated daggers across the room at the invisible bidder.

My heart is beating so quickly that I’m surprised I can hear the bidding over the rush of blood in my ears. Lauren leans in and whispers to me, “It’s probably now or never, Cora.”

Daphne pauses for a minute, chewing on her bottom lip before she counters with a less confident, “Seven hundred!”

Am I really going to let these women win a Valentine’s date with this man? The man who sought out my brother to ask him about my favorite flowers? The man who needles me, but who also respects my opinion and expertise about this city we both love dearly?

Adam turns in the direction of the other woman, his eyebrows raising expectantly. I stifle my exasperation at his need for attention.

“Okay then,” the hidden bidder says just as Dorothy is bringing the microphone back to her mouth to call it. “Eight hundred?”

Adam winces, which seems a little weird, but I don’t have time to process it before I jump forward and yell, “One thousand!”

Every head in the room whips around in my direction. Gasps sound from all my friends. Especially Dorothy, whose sharp inhale echoes into the mic. Sturge narrows his eyes at me from his seat near the back. And even though I know it’s exactly the ridiculous public display we had been avoiding, I don’t care. Adam Sullivan is mine, and everyone is going to know it, here and now.

Adam’s high-wattage smile spreads over his face as his gray eyes catch mine from across the room. I’m walking slowly toward him as if my feet have minds of their own, and he’s tracking me the whole way. That look has single-handedly raised the temperature in the room at least ten degrees.

“One thousand fifty,” the unknown bidder calls from her place on the outskirts of the room. Adam breaks eye contact with me to shoot an annoyed look in her direction. My heart soars at the gesture. Even though he suggested I bid on him, it’s nice to know he really did want me to.

“Too rich for my blood,” Daphne mutters as I walk past her seat.

“One thousand one hundred,” I say. I’m close to the catwalk now, and Adam’s heated gaze lands on me again. It barely registers that I’m paying four figures for a date with a man who already wants me. Hell, who already has me. It’s the message that counts. He’s mine, and I want everyone in this town to know it.

To her credit, Dorothy does give it a painfully long moment before announcing that I’ve won. There is polite applause, and some slightly confused chatter, as Adam reaches down and helps me onto the catwalk. Instead of the customary side-hug for the photo op, he spins me to face him, his broad hand landing on the small of my back as he pulls me closer.

“I’m glad you won,” he says softly as the camera clicks somewhere in the distance.

“Me too.” His spiced cologne is intoxicating from this close, and I go a little weak in the knees.

Luckily, Adam is there to steady me. He leans in so our noses are almost touching and mutters, “You didn’t have to spend over a thousand dollars on me just to get a date, you know. I would have taken you out for free.”

“I know.” I shrug. “I don’t know what came over me.” The chatter in the room grows louder as people leave their seats for a last drink and some of Dorothy’s famous desserts.

“You couldn’t resist me,” he says as if it’s obvious. “No shame in that game.”

“Yeah, well I’m not the only one. I think you went for more than anyone ever has in that bidding war.”

A sheepish look passes over his chiseled features. “About that…” he trails off, then rubs his jawline. “That was Bianca.”

I must have misheard him. The headiness of being in his arms again—in public, no less—coupled with the rising volume in the room has me confused. “I’m sorry. I thought you just said it was Bianca who was bidding on you?”

“It was.” Adam purses his lips against a smile. “I told her to make sure no one outbid her. Well, me. She was using my money.”

I smack him lightly on the arm. “What? Why? You let me spend over a thousand dollars on you!”

It’s at that moment that a flurry of petals slaps Adam’s ass. He plucks the roses from Dorothy’s outstretched hand and offers them to me once more. I can’t help it. One sniff, and I swoon.

“These are not thousand dollar flowers, Adam.” I try to grumble, but it comes out more like a purr.

He laughs then, and even though I know I should be angry that I’m out so much money, the sound vibrates through me, curling my toes. “I couldn’t very well stop the bidding to tell you, now could I? And far be it from me to interrupt your moment there.” His smile falls, and he pins me with a look so earnest, it takes my breath away. “I had her do it because there’s no one in this room I want to go out with but you, Cora. If you’ll have me.”

It’s such a sweet admission that I don’t have words to respond. I grab him by his lapel with my spare hand and pull him in for a searing kiss, not caring who is watching. The scent of roses and spiced cologne swirls around us. I think I hear a few whoops and claps from my friends, but I barely register them as our lips and tongues dance together.

When we both come up for air, I say, “We are so splitting the cost of this auction, though.”

Adam tips his head back and laughs, then brings me close to kiss the top of my head. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Cora,” he whispers against my skin.

“It’s the happiest one I can remember,” I respond, leaning into him and promising to myself that I’ll never let him go.