Chapter 3
Three
Emma
Once the raffles kicked off, the energy in the room shifted dramatically.
The earlier chaos of people wandering around, buying tickets, and crowding the bar started to funnel toward the small stage at the front.
Chairs scraped against the floor as people pulled them closer together, and conversations faded into a low hum, allowing the emcee’s voice to cut through the air.
“Alright, everyone,” he said, tapping the microphone to grab attention. “First things first—thank you all for coming out today. Because of all of you, we’ve raised an incredible amount of money for the Williams family.”
A wave of applause erupted in response, filling the room with warmth.
Cheers erupted, whistles echoed from somewhere near the bar, and a few bikers even slapped their hands against the tables, showing their approval.
I couldn’t help but smile to myself, feeling a rush of satisfaction.
That moment alone made the entire afternoon worth it, even if I didn’t win a single thing.
Even if every dollar I’d spent on raffle tickets went to someone else. It was all worth it.
I glanced down at the thick strip of tickets in my hand. The paper was slightly wrinkled from me twisting it between my fingers while I waited. “So far, nothing,” I murmured quietly.
Beside me, Maya barely reacted. Her body was turned halfway toward the table of bikers next to us, laughing at something one of them had just said.
That had been happening a lot since they started paying attention to her.
At first, it didn’t seem weird; Maya was beautiful—a kind of beauty that made people stop mid-conversation and stare.
I was used to guys noticing her when we went out.
But tonight felt different. She had been almost overly aware of their attention.
Every laugh was louder; every comment was just a bit more dramatic.
She kept leaning forward across the table, touching their arms and tossing her hair over her shoulder.
At one point, she even adjusted the neckline of her shirt, making sure they could see down it.
That made my eyebrows lift slightly; it just wasn’t how she normally acted around me.
“First basket!” the emcee announced, breaking through my thoughts. “Number two-one-seven!” A loud cheer erupted from somewhere across the room.
“Three-four-two!” Another person stood up to collect their prize, and the crowd clapped and laughed with each winner announced.
Some baskets were huge, wrapped in crinkling plastic, while others were smaller but still decorated with ribbons and bows.
After each number, I glanced down at my tickets.
None matched yet, but that was okay. I took another sip of my drink and tried to stay hopeful.
“And next up,” the emcee said, shaking the bucket dramatically, “we’ve got the Barbie Dream House bundle!”
My head lifted immediately. That one! The youngest niece had been so excited about that basket earlier. Before I could think twice about it, I felt small feet running toward me.
“Miss Emma!”
I turned just in time to see her skidding to a stop beside my chair, her dark curls bouncing around her face, cheeks flushed pink with excitement.
“Miss Emma,” she said breathlessly, grabbing my chair, “will you sit with me? My basket’s next!”
My heart melted. “Of course I will!”
Her face lit up with joy, and she grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the front. “Come on!”
I barely had time to stand before she was dragging me through the crowd, and as we walked, I felt that strange sensation again—a feeling of being watched, heavy and focused. But I didn’t turn around; I had a feeling I knew who it was.
We reached the front just as the emcee reached into the bucket again. The little girl squeezed my hand tightly, excitement buzzing between us. The emcee unfolded a ticket. “Barbie Dream House basket goes to… number three-eight-nine!”
For a moment, nothing happened, and then the girl beside me exploded with excitement. “THAT’S ME!” she shouted, jumping up and down, clapping wildly.
“I WON! I WON!”
I crouched down beside her, laughing. “Well, congratulations!”
The volunteer handed her the giant prize, and the Barbie Dream House box was nearly as tall as she was, with a basket of candy tied beside it. I looked down at her, smiling. “Do you want help carrying it back?”
“Yes!” she nodded eagerly, grabbing my hand again.
We had barely taken two steps when I awkwardly lifted the Dream House box and grabbed the candy basket tied to it, trying to balance everything in my arms. I quickly realized I had no idea how I was going to carry the rest. Just as I was starting to wobble, the president—the quiet biker—appeared beside me.
“Let me help with that,” he said, reaching out and effortlessly taking the Dream House box from my hands.
“Thank you,” I said, smiling up at him.
As I turned to grab the candy basket, I noticed the two other bikers with him were already helping too, carrying the remaining baskets. They smirked at me, their expressions a mix of amusement.
The president stepped a little closer, his presence somehow calming amidst the chaos. “Name’s Hawk, by the way,” he said, giving me a small nod as we walked back toward the kids.
“Nice to meet you,” I replied, still a bit surprised by his sudden kindness.
Together, we made our way back to Derek’s family table, and the kids erupted with excitement when they saw their baskets arriving. They climbed over chairs and crowded the table, practically vibrating with joy. Derek’s sister laughed in disbelief. “Wait… you guys won?”
Derek looked just as confused. “I didn’t buy tickets for them.”
The kids all started talking at once. “She did!” “Miss Emma gave us tickets!” “We won!”
My cheeks warmed slightly as Derek looked at me, mouthing a thank you. I smiled and nodded, feeling good inside. It hadn’t been a big deal, but judging by their reactions, they hadn’t expected the kids to win anything.
Hawk and the other bikers quietly set the baskets down before stepping away again, blending back into the crowd. No attention, no conversation—just helping out. I returned to my seat as the raffles continued.
“And next up,” the emcee announced, lifting another basket, “we have the baking basket!”
My head lifted immediately. That one! That was the one I really wanted. It had so many cute baking tools, a sourdough starter kit, and a cookbook I’d almost bought last week. I crossed my fingers under the table, hoping.
The emcee reached into the bucket and unfolded the ticket. “Winning number is… three-one-four!”
I glanced down at my tickets. Three-one-seven. My stomach sank. Not mine. For a moment, the room stayed quiet as people checked their numbers, and then Maya gasped beside me.
“Oh my god,” she said, looking down at her ticket strip. “That’s mine.”
She stood quickly and headed to the front, and I sat there quietly, trying not to feel disappointed. But I did. That had been the one basket I actually wanted.
A few minutes later, Maya returned carrying the baking basket. She dropped it on the table, looking a bit too casual for my liking. “Well,” she said, “I didn’t even want this one.”
My head snapped up. “You… what?”
She began peeling the plastic wrap off. “I’ll probably donate most of it or throw half this stuff out.”
My mouth fell open. “That’s really rude.”
She blinked at me, confused. “What?”
“If you didn’t want it, you shouldn’t have put tickets in for it.”
She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed. “Oh my god, Emma.”
“You literally just said you’re going to throw most of it away.”
“So?”
“So someone else might have actually wanted it.”
Her expression shifted slightly, and I could see the annoyance creeping in. “You’re just jealous because you wanted it and didn’t win.”
I exhaled slowly, knowing she wasn’t wrong.
I was jealous. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t being rude.
Honestly, she’d been acting strange ever since those guys started giving her attention, almost like she was trying to prove something or show off.
I leaned back in my chair, feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment. “Whatever.”
She had a few drinks in her, and right now, she seemed more interested in impressing the bikers than actually talking to me. Without meaning to, I caught Hawk’s gaze again. He was watching me from across the room, and I felt my cheeks flush. What was this night turning into?