Chapter One #2
The bidding climbed fast. One-fifty. Two hundred.
Two-fifty. A curvy brunette a few rows ahead of me kept raising her hand, her expression determined.
She had green eyes and an easy smile, and when she bid three hundred dollars, the man on stage actually looked at her, truly seeing her for the first time.
Something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe, or interest.
"Three hundred going once... twice..." Evelyn paused dramatically. "Sold! Bachelor Number One goes to Nova for three hundred dollars!"
The audience burst into applause and cheers, Stacie and her friends cackling with delight. The brunette—Nova—appeared equal parts thrilled and mortified as the man walked off stage and made his way toward her. Their gazes met, and something passed between them. A recognition. A spark.
At least someone's happy, I thought bitterly.
Another man was introduced and quickly auctioned. I barely registered his face. Each moment brought me closer to Gil.
"And now," Evelyn said, her voice dropping into sultry warmth, "let me introduce our next bachelor."
The stage lights brightened, and my breath stopped before he even appeared.
And then Gil Pruitt walked out.
The noise around me seemed to dim.
I'd seen him before. Of course I had. Months of parking my food truck near The Pinnacle's main entrance, watching him from a distance, moving across the resort grounds like he owned the world.
I'd seen him drive past in his pristine pickup, seen him through the main lodge windows, tall and commanding and completely untouchable.
But this—this was different.
Up close, under the lights, with nowhere to hide my reaction, Gil Pruitt was devastating.
Salt-and-pepper hair styled in a way that appeared effortless but probably wasn't. Steel-gray eyes that swept the crowd with a confidence born from a man who always got what he wanted.
Shoulders that filled out his dark henley perfectly, the fabric clinging just enough to hint at the muscle underneath.
A shadow of stubble along his jaw. A scar cutting through his left eyebrow that added an edge of danger, a story I'd never know.
He wasn't classically handsome. He was better than that. He was the sort of man who walked into a room and made everyone else irrelevant. Made you forget whatever you'd been thinking about, whoever you'd been talking to.
I hated that my body responded to him when my mind knew exactly what he'd done to my family. Hated that some traitorous part of me wondered what it would feel like to have his gaze focused entirely on me.
This was going to be harder than I'd thought.
The name tag on his chest read: Bachelor #2.
"Ladies," Evelyn purred, "meet Bachelor Number Two—you might remember him as The Sizzling Silver Fox from our calendar.
" She let the name hang in the air, and the audience ate it up.
Whistles and catcalls erupted from every corner.
"Now, I don't want to oversell this, but.
.. actually, yes I do. Who wants to start the bidding at fifty dollars? "
"One hundred!" someone shouted immediately.
This was it.
"One-fifty!"
"Two hundred!"
The bids came fast, voices overlapping, women practically climbing over each other to get Evelyn's attention. My nails dug crescents into my palms. What if this all fell apart right now? What if these months of planning crumbled because I'd miscalculated?
Gil stood there utterly unbothered, his expression unreadable. He'd expected this. He knew damn well what he was worth. There was no false modesty, no awkward shuffling. Just quiet confidence that bordered on arrogance.
I wanted to wipe that confidence off his face. And I would. By Sunday, he'd know exactly what it felt like to be brought low.
"Three hundred!" Stacie hollered, waving her thermos.
"Three-fifty!" someone else countered.
"Four hundred!" Frankie's voice—the third matchmaker, clutching her small white dog to her chest. "Look at those shoulders!"
A ripple of laughter and agreement swept through the space.
I raised my hand.
"Four-fifty," I called out, my voice steadier than I felt.
Evelyn's gaze fixed on me, sharp and assessing. For a moment, I had the distinct impression she saw right through me—through my careful makeup and styled hair, through my plan, straight down to the anger burning in my chest.
"Four-fifty from the pretty redhead in the middle! Do I hear five hundred?"
"Five hundred!" Stacie shouted.
"Five-fifty," I said immediately. No hesitation. Show no weakness.
The crowd had gone quieter now. People were watching, leaning forward, sensing the shift—this wasn't casual bidding anymore. This was a fight. Gil's gaze found mine across the distance, and for one terrible, breathless second, we locked eyes.
His mouth curved—not quite a smile, but close. Satisfied. As though he'd been waiting for this. For me.
He didn't seem to know who I was. Gave no sign of recognizing me. To him, I was just another woman willing to empty her wallet for a weekend with him.
That ignorance was my weapon. And I'd use it.
"Six hundred!" someone called from the back.
"Six-fifty," I said immediately, not breaking eye contact.
Evelyn's smile widened like she was watching the best show in town. "Six-fifty! Do I hear seven hundred?"
Silence stretched. That couldn't be it. Not yet.
"Seven hundred!" Stacie's voice rang out.
Relief and dread twisted together in my chest. Good - now I knew I hadn't scared everyone off. But could I go higher than my limit? No. $847 was all I had.
"Seven-fifty," I countered, my voice carrying across the pavilion.
"Eight hundred!" Another bid from somewhere in the crowd.
My heart hammered. So close to my ceiling.
"Eight twenty-five," I said.
The words hung in the air. Silence. Had I actually won?
"Eight forty!" Stacie stood up, swaying slightly. Her friends tried to pull her back down.
No. Not yet—
I had $847. Seven dollars left. If she went any higher, I was done. Six months of planning, destroyed by seven dollars.
"Eight forty-seven."
It came out flat. Final. Every cent I had in the world.
Evelyn's perfectly penciled eyebrows rose. "Eight hundred and forty-seven dollars. Going once... going twice..."
No one else spoke. Even Stacie had gone quiet.
"Sold!" Evelyn's voice rang out triumphantly. "Bachelor Number Two—our Sizzling Silver Fox—goes to Ruby for eight hundred and forty-seven dollars!"
The crowd erupted.
My stomach dropped. I'd actually done it. Spent everything. There was no going back now.
I sat frozen while dozens of eyes watched. Some women appeared envious. Others seemed sympathetic, perhaps sensing I'd just bid everything I had. A few watched with curiosity, probably wondering why I'd wanted him so badly.
What had I just done?
The remaining men were auctioned quickly. I heard Evelyn's voice, heard more applause, but none of it registered. My entire body felt numb, my mind circling the same thought: I'd just spent everything for a revenge plan that might not even work.
"Congratulations to all our winners!" Evelyn was back at center stage, beaming at everyone gathered.
"Now, here are the rules. You have your bachelor from now until Sunday afternoon.
The weekend is yours to spend wherever—and however—you'd like with your bachelor.
But—" She wagged a finger playfully. "—you must appear together at the festival finale on Sunday evening.
We want to see how much fun you've had."
Perfect. Public humiliation at the festival finale. That had been the plan all along, and hearing it confirmed only sharpened my resolve.
People were standing now, winners making their way toward their dates. The space buzzed with excitement and laughter.
And then Gil was in front of me.
He'd approached while I was still processing, and suddenly he was there, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. When he smiled down at me, slow and devastating, my stomach flipped.
He extended his hand, and when I took it, he didn't shake—he lifted it smoothly to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. The gesture should have felt outdated, performative. Instead, it sent heat straight through me.
"I have to admit," he said, those steel-gray eyes holding mine with a glint of amusement, "I wasn't expecting someone like you to spend that much on a weekend with me. Though I'm certainly not complaining."
Sure you weren't. Small-town gossip traveled fast—I'd heard plenty about his reputation. The ladies' man who charmed tourists at the resort bar, never the same woman twice.
"Gil Pruitt," he continued, still holding my hand. "I'm relatively new to Lovesbury—been here about six months now. I run the Pinnacle resort up the mountain. Perhaps you've seen it?"
Oh, I'd seen it. Every single day from my food truck window.
"I have a private cabin on the property," he said. "I was thinking we could spend the weekend there—show you what we've done with the place, let you enjoy some of the amenities. Good reviews are always appreciated."
The way he said it—casual, confident, like he was offering me a tour of his kingdom—made my teeth clench. But I forced a smile, hoping it read as sweet and not like the evil queen plotting his downfall.
"That sounds wonderful. Thank you."
"I was hoping it would be you, Ruby." His voice dropped lower, rough and deliberate.
My pulse jumped. He'd heard Evelyn announce my name, but hearing him say it like that—intimate, possessive—made my skin flush.
I rose on the balls of my feet—old gymnastics instinct, making myself taller—and forced myself to meet his gaze. "Hope you're worth eight forty-seven."
His smile widened, and something heated flickered in his eyes. "I'll do my best to earn every penny."
His words carried both promise and threat, sending heat pooling low in my belly despite everything. Despite who he was, what he'd done, what I planned to do to him.
No. Absolutely not. I was not going to be attracted to this man. This was revenge. This was justice. This was—
"Shall we?" His hand settled on my lower back, warm through my coat.
I stepped away from his touch, ignoring the flicker of amusement in his eyes. "I'll need to stop by my apartment first. Get some things for the weekend."
"Of course." He gestured toward the pavilion exit. "Where are you parked?"
"I walked. I live in the village."
"Then let me drive you." He moved toward the exit, clearly expecting me to follow. The confidence, the assumption—it set my teeth on edge even as part of me recognized it was exactly the kind of arrogance I'd expected from him.
We wove through the dispersing crowd, voices calling out congratulations and making jokes I barely heard. Someone mentioned getting their money's worth.
This was happening. This was really happening.
I was completely broke. If I couldn't pull off this revenge, I had nothing left.
Gil's vehicle was parked at the edge of the square—a gunmetal gray Range Rover, sleek and imposing.
He opened the passenger door for me, and I climbed in, hyper-aware of how small I felt next to him.
The cab smelled like cedar, leather, and smoke—expensive and masculine.
The leather seats were soft and warm, already heated.
Nothing like the worn vinyl seats in my food truck's cab.
He slid into the driver's seat, and the space seemed to shrink. The quiet confidence in the way he moved, the way he settled in, commanding the space as if the entire world outside bent to his will.
"Which way?" he asked, starting the engine. It purred to life, smooth and quiet.
"Take a left out of the square, then straight for three blocks."
We pulled out onto the road in silence. I caught my reflection in the side mirror. My face was pale, my eyes too bright. My lips pressed into a thin line despite my attempt to appear casual.
I looked ready to make a terrible mistake.
But it was too late to back out now. I'd just bid everything to buy one weekend with the man I hated most in the world.
"So," Gil said, breaking the silence. "I've seen you around. The food truck near The Pinnacle."
My pulse kicked. Had he known who I was this whole time? Was this whole thing—
"I've been meaning to stop by for coffee, but..." He glanced at me, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "You always looked like you wanted to throw it at me instead of sell it to me."
So he'd noticed me watching. Noticed my anger. But he didn't know why.
"Maybe I just don't like developers," I said lightly.
"Fair enough," he said, that hint of a smile still playing at his lips. "Then I'll make it my personal goal to change your mind by Sunday."
The quiet confidence in his voice made it sound less like a challenge and more like a promise.
"Here?" He gestured at my building.
I nodded. He pulled up to the curb, put the Range Rover in park.
"I'll just be a few minutes," I said, already reaching for the door handle.
"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
I hurried inside, my mind racing as I climbed the stairs. This was real. This was happening.
Because Gil Pruitt had noticed me. Had wanted me to bid on him. Had been hoping for this.
Which meant he had no idea what was coming.
I grabbed my overnight bag and threw in clothes, toiletries, anything I might need for a weekend of making him regret the day he'd bought Flynn's Lodge. When I found proof of his shady business practices—and I would find it—I'd make sure the whole town knew exactly who Gil Pruitt was.
I zipped the bag and headed back downstairs.
Gil was waiting in the driver's seat, engine running, looking completely at ease. When I climbed in, he smiled—that devastating, confident smile that probably worked on every woman he met.
Not me. Not after Sunday.
"Ready?" he asked.
I buckled my seatbelt and met his eyes. "Ready."
He pulled away from the curb, and we headed toward The Pinnacle.
Toward the place that used to be mine.