4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Madison
“I can’t believe I'm doing this.” The charity auction is already in progress, and I’m about to be called. I smooth my hands over my green sequin dress one more time and take a deep breath to steady my nerves. It feels like the first day I was on camera for Spiced . My stomach flutters and there's a vibration under my skin that makes me want to turn and run.
The Christmas gala is held in an old train depot that’s been renovated into a beautiful venue. Strands of white lights are woven into sheer swaths of fabric that drape the walls, while crystal chandeliers bathe the room in golden light. There’s a room set up for people to decorate Christmas trees and a silent auction, while the main room has a small stage, dance floor, and seating for guests. Poinsettias and lush garland with red and gold ribbons trim out the buffet tables.
“Just think of all the people you're helping by bringing in more money for the charity,” Amanda says as she hands Sasha and me each a glass of champagne.
I gulp down half of it.
“You're up next. Remember to smile and look excited to be helping out,” she adds.
“Smile and don't look terrified. Right.”
“The worst that can happen is no one bids and you'll have to spend that time with us,” Sasha says.
That’s the best outcome I can hope for. This is insane.
The emcee for the gala is the mayor, who is more gregarious than I expected from a short, older woman. She winks at me, then waves me forward.
“Next up is number twelve, but most of you know her as one of the stars of the reality show Spiced . She's a classically trained chef, so keep that in mind when you're bidding gentlemen. I know most of your women would love a romantic dinner cooked by someone other than themselves.” The crowd laughs, and the spotlight turns on me as I walk out onto the small stage. The bright light casts them all into shadow, making me feel even more exposed. I fight not to fidget and force myself to wave and relax.
“Timeline!” Amanda stage whisper-shouts.
The mayor chuckles. “I've been not so subtly reminded that Miss York is only in town with us for a few more days, so whoever wins her time will need to schedule with her right away. Let's start the bidding at one hundred dollars. She's worth it, right folks? Who bids-”
“One hundred,” a male voice yells out, and just like that, I'm officially committed to spending part of my vacation with a stranger.
The bidding tics up twenty-five dollars at a time, while the mayor jabbers ideas to the crowd of how they can use the hours I’ve donated. I have to laugh when she suggests a karaoke dance party and shake my head. No one wants to hear me sing.
“Seven hundred,” the mayor calls. “Do I hear $725?”
I'm honestly surprised it went this high. The others who were auctioned before me raised only a hundred or two.
“One thousand!” a man shouts.
“Tucker? Is that you?” The mayor shields her eyes from the lights to peer at the crowd. “You don't even have a girl.”
“He likes karaoke,” Someone says and everyone laughs.
“Part of the charity funds have just been allocated for earplugs,” the mayor replies, “One thousand. Anyone else?”
“Eleven hundred.” This voice is deeper, rougher, and sends a shiver of awareness through me. It sounds like the man from the coffee shop. But that's unlikely. Amanda said Ezra only comes to town a few times a month and prefers to keep to himself. A gala with hundreds of people doesn't fit with the image I had of him—a mountain man loner who is content to enjoy nature and chop wood.
“Thirteen hundred.” Tucker counters.
“Fourteen,” the deep-voiced mystery man says.
The mayor is still peering into the crowd. “Fourteen.”
“Fifteen!”
“Two thousand.”
A gasp of surprise echoes through the crowd. All except Amanda who laughs with undisguised glee.
I know that laugh. It's the same chortle she uses when she knows something others don't and is waiting for it to be revealed to everyone else. She and Sasha are by the edge of the stage, just visible in the light. Amanda gives me a beaming smile.
“Two thousand,” the mayor echoes into the microphone. “Do I hear $2,025?”
Tucker is silent. I hear an angry, hushed voice, but no one else bids.
“Sold for $2,000,” the mayor declares. She shakes my hand, “Thank you, Miss York.”
“You're welcome.” This whole night has been surreal.
“The winning bidder is Ezra Manning.”
My belly flutters for an entirely different reason. It was Ezra! I leave the stage and Amanda throws an arm around me.
“You raised so much! And now you get to spend four hours with your crush!”
“What?” How does she know I've been fascinated with him since we bumped into him? I only asked about him once when Roland brought him up. “I don't-”
“Oh please. I've known you your whole life. You think I didn't notice when you searched the stores and sidewalks when we went shopping for that dress? Or how interested you were when Roland talked about Ezra fixing up his cabin?”
My cheeks burn, but I can't deny it. Not to my best friend. “It doesn't matter. I'm only here a few more days.”
“But a lot can happen in that time. Besides, people make long-distance relationships work all the time,” Sasha says.
“I'm not going to start a relationship with him! I'm just going to cook for him or something. Whatever he wants for his four hours.”
“Right. Anything he wants!” Amanda waggles her eyebrows.
“Not that!” Although I've fantasized every night about what his big, strong hands would feel like on my bare skin.
Amanda just laughs. “Go find your benefactor and see what special tasks he has in mind. I have a French maid costume if you need it.”
I groan and go find the volunteer who is in charge of connecting the winners with us. She points me to another person taking payments and I turn just in time to see Ezra tuck a credit card back in his wallet and walk away.
The room is cast in shadows as the mayor takes bids on the final person of the night. I can just make out Ezra’s imposing figure. He looks like he's still wearing a flannel and jeans. Most people here are dressed up, and it makes me wonder if my original assessment was right—that he wouldn't normally be here. Is he heading for the exit? I quicken my steps, pushing past the last few people just as he reaches the door.
“Wait!” I latch onto his arm to stop him. “Are you leaving?”
Ezra looks down at me. We stare at each other for a moment, and I feel the same sizzling connection I did the first time we met.
“Yes,” he replies.
That's it. No “we'll talk soon” or suggestions to exchange numbers. “How will I get in touch with you?”
“Why would you?” he asks slowly. He seems genuinely confused. Was the mayor or that volunteer wrong?
“I-I'm sorry, I thought you won my auction. I thought... my friend told me your name was Ezra. There must be another Ezra in White Falls.”
“You asked about me?”
I can't tell whether he's intrigued or upset by that. I realize that I still have hold of his shirt again and release him. Why can’t I stop embarrassing myself around him? He’s going to think I’m a creep. “Yes, after I bumped into you. Anyway, sorry to bother you.” My chest feels tight and my stomach has dropped to my feet. I'm disappointed. I wanted to spend time with him and he's not the winning bidder.
He ducks his chin and is silent until it becomes awkward.
“I’m holding you up. I'll go—”
“I am the winning bidder,” he says roughly. His golden eyes burn, but I can't read his expression.
“Oh, great!” My heart thumps hard. “What do you want me to-”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
He pushes the door open, letting in a blast of frigid air and a few snow flurries. “I don't want anything. The money's for charity. Let's leave it at that.”
I'm so surprised that my mouth hangs open.
“Have a good night, angel.” Ezra gives me one last look, then steps out into the cold.
That's it? He spent two grand for four hours of my time and he doesn't want anything? Not even a meal?
I rush out after him. It's freezing and I wish I’d grabbed my jacket. “Wait!”
Ezra turns back to me, a silent giant in the amber glow of the depot's outdoor lights.
“At least let me make you dinner.”
He's shaking his head before I finish the sentence.
“Why not?”
Ezra gusts out a sigh. He removes his jacket and puts it around my shoulders, enveloping me in warmth and the smell of pine. I barely resist the urge to bury my nose in the collar.
“I'm not good company... Madison is it?”
I nod.
“I don't need anything, so just enjoy your time here.”
No. He won the time and I want to know a little more about him. Like why he keeps himself away from others. Maybe this is all one sided, and he never gave me a second thought. Regardless, I'm not letting him leave without getting something for his generosity. I take his hand and attempt to tug him back toward the party.
“Come on. You don’t want four hours of my time. I get it. At least have a dance with me.”
“Madison.” His tone has a warning to it.
“It’s Christmas. Santa says I've been good so I should get what I want.”
He makes a low rumbling noise. “Have you been a good girl, Madison?”
Hearing him ask in that sexy, growly tone puts a whole different context on this conversation. Heat pulses between my thighs. “Yes,” I whisper.
Suddenly he's crowding me against the side of the depot. He plants his hands on either side of my head, caging me in.
Instead of being afraid, my nipples are hard points against my dress and I have to press my thighs together because I'm getting wet.
He dips his head to whisper, “Then tell me what you want for Christmas.”
His lips are full and look so kissable. I lick my lower lip. When I meet his gaze, there's an inferno burning in his golden eyes.
“A kiss.”