3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Wylie
Scout takes off ahead of me, a brindle blur against the copper-colored leaves blanketing the trail. His tail wags like he’s the king of the world.
And out here, he kind of is.
I pick up my pace to keep up, breath puffing out in clouds as we push deeper into the woods. The trail dips, winding through a dense patch of maples and oaks whose branches knit together overhead like a fortress. Gold and red leaves flutter down with every step, some catching in my hair, some sticking to Scout’s back as he bounds through the underbrush.
No photographers. No drones.
No one but us.
I bought this land for the silence. For the privacy. For the guarantee that no one could follow me out here with a camera lens. The canopy’s too thick for aerial shots, and the only road in is one I paid to have gated.
When I’m here, I’m not Wylie Cole, movie star, celebrity heartthrob, People’s Sexiest Something-Or-Other.
I’m just a man and his dog.
Scout darts off the trail, nose to the ground, tail twitching. He circles a tree, then barks once—sharp, excited—and I jog over to see what’s caught his attention.
A squirrel. Of course.
“Easy, buddy,” I say, giving him a pat as the squirrel scampers up the trunk and disappears into the leaves. “That one got away.”
He huffs but trots back to the trail with no further protest.
It still blows my mind how fast I fell for this dog. Thank goodness for Fielding Rescue & Rehab.
My jaw tightens as Bella Fielding’s face flashes through my memory. The messy bun. The soft smile. The playful banter. I hadn’t expected her to knock the breath out of me just by opening a door.
For a moment there, I thought I’d just met my soulmate. But then… the glint of the diamond ring ruined everything.
I shake my head, trying to let the thought go. It’s been almost a year since that night. More than long enough to forget how gorgeous she looked in the glow of that porch light. But I haven’t.
Scout stops and looks back at me, tongue lolling out like he’s waiting for me to stop moping and catch up.
“Okay, okay. I’m coming,” I mutter, pushing into a jog again.
We run until my lungs burn and my head’s clear. Until all I can think about is the crunch of leaves beneath my boots and the rhythmic thump of Scout’s paws beside me.
Whatever’s waiting beyond these woods—scripts, meetings, obligations—it can hold. For now, I’m just going to go jogging with my dog.
I’m back at the cabin, Scout curled at my feet while I nurse a mug of strong black coffee and scroll through the local news feed on my phone. It's mostly the usual: bake sale fundraisers, town council bickering, some high school football triumph that’s got the whole county puffed up with pride.
And then I see it.
HAWKS ROOST BACHELOR & BACHELORETTE CHARITY AUCTION!
There's a graphic with headshots of the participants arranged in neat little rows like a yearbook page. And then there's hers. Bella’s. She’s wearing a flannel shirt, no makeup, and a headband that pushes her hair away from her beautiful face. Her hands are folded beneath her chin.
My thumb pauses on the screen. My heart does too.
She’s not wearing a ring.
I zoom in to be sure. No ring. Not even a shadow of one.
“Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath.
Scout lifts his head, ears perked like he knows something just shifted.
She’s single.
And she’s putting herself up for auction?
I reach for my phone before I can think twice.
It rings once before my assistant, Nadine, picks up.
“Wylie? What time is it?” she says, voice scratchy with sleep.
“I need you to be at the Hawks Roost town hall on Thursday evening. I need you to serve as my proxy at the charity auction.”
A pause. “Isn’t that the auction where people bid on a date with one of the participants?”
“Yes,” I say impatiently.
“When I mentioned it to you last week, you said there was no way you were interested in that. You told me to just donate $1,000 to each participating charity.”
“I still want you to do that, but now I want you to place a winning bid, too.”
“Okay… “ she says slowly, “so who am I bidding on?”
“Her name’s Bella Fielding. You’ll see her on the list.”
“The one with the dogs?”
“That’s her.”
Nadine hums. “She’s pretty. Nothing like the women you usually date, though.”
I scowl at her through the phone screen. “Just make sure I win.”
“Copy that. How high am I going?”
“Whatever it takes. I want to win.”
Another pause. Then a low, amused laugh. “Got it. The newspaper headlines will be spectacular. Movie star goes all in on date with small-town Cinderella.”
“She’s not Cinderella,” I grumble.
Nadine ignores me. “I’ll wear something that says mysterious out-of-towner with deep pockets .”
“Whatever. Just make sure you win.”
I hang up and look down at Scout, who is now watching me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Don’t judge me,” I tell him. “It’s for charity.”
He wags his tail.
“I’ll take that as a sign of approval.”