Chapter 7
WILLA
I didn’t think I’d be able to get through today.
When I finished my shift at Fireside Lodge and got in my car, I couldn’t move.
I just sat there, overwhelmed by everything—the bone-crushing tiredness, the auction, my mom.
I arrived at Creekside Diner ten minutes late, feeling like a zombie, about to collapse.
And then I looked up and saw Flint.
He was sitting in a booth in his green flannel shirt, his broad shoulders taking up all the space.
Those gray eyes were trained on me, and suddenly, I felt wide awake.
Being near him gave me a burst of courage, a shot of adrenaline to the heart that carried me through the rest of my shift, even after he’d gone.
I try to cling to that feeling as I sit on the couch in my apartment hours later.
It’s nearly nine o’clock, and First Encounters is open on my phone, the screen casting a pale glow in the darkness of my living room.
A timer has appeared beneath my listing, ticking down the final few seconds, and a green banner pops up next to it: Last chance to bid!
I watch, holding my breath.
Then, just like that, it’s over.
This auction is now closed.
My muscles go slack. The $100,000 won, of course. It blew every other bid out of the water, and I still can’t wrap my head around the number. The bidder has done their part, and if I want that $100,000, I have to do mine.
I know what happens next—I’ve done my research.
Soon, I’ll receive a message with a date, time, and address, all chosen by the bidder.
They could be from anywhere, but my travel expenses will be paid.
I’ll have to skip work. Pretend I’m sick.
Then hop on a flight to somewhere in the world and give the bidder what they paid for.
I try to breathe through the nausea rising in my gut. I need to focus on the money—all the problems it will solve. I try to imagine a life without debt, a life where I can sleep. A life that doesn’t feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff about to fall off. A life where I can finally breathe.
The thoughts should calm me—help me remember why I’m doing this.
But nothing can calm the fear churning in my gut
“One night,” I whisper. “Just one night.”
I can close my eyes and pretend I’m somewhere else.
Pretend I’m with someone else.
Flint instantly appears in my mind’s eye. I picture him in our sunlit office with a cup of coffee in his hand, leaning back in his chair as he looks at me. I wish I was there right now—with him. I wish this would all go away.
My phone buzzes, yanking me from my thoughts. It’s a text from First Encounters. I wasn’t expecting it to arrive so fast, and I stare at the notification, feeling like I might throw up. I’m about to find out where I have to go and when.
I take several tries to open the message because my hands are shaking so much.
1849 Cherry Mountain Road
Cherry Hollow, CO 81627
Date: March 31
Time: 7:00 P.M.
I read it several times, but I don’t take it in. It’s like when you’re reading a book and realize you’ve been rereading the same paragraph for ten minutes without absorbing a single word. My eyes scan the address line by line until I could recite it in my sleep. Until it finally sinks in.
This has to be some kind of mistake…
Some kind of joke…
I recognize it. Of course I do. Heck, I was at 1849 Cherry Mountain Road yesterday afternoon, sleeping in a guest room.
This is Flint’s address.
The highest bidder. The man who won my virginity.
It was my boss.
For a long time, I stare at my phone, barely breathing.
Tomorrow. Flint’s cabin.
I’m numb. Too shocked to move. My head is buzzing, a swarm of bees invading my skull, and I stay like that for what feels like hours, staring at the text until my eyes are watering.
I don’t make a conscious decision to stand up.
My body acts of its own accord, carrying me into my bedroom where I pull on some fresh clothes.
Then I grab my car keys and leave my apartment, climbing down the steep staircase and out into the crisp night air.
My movements are automatic. I feel like a puppet, instinct pulling the strings as I get in my car, turn on the engine, and begin the drive up Cherry Mountain.
It’s nearly ten by the time I pull up outside Flint’s sprawling cabin.
The windows are all dark except for one, lit up with the flickering glow of a fire.
I don’t remember the drive. Heck, I don’t remember leaving my apartment at all.
I’m running on pure adrenaline right now, every logical thought buried too deep to hear.
As I climb the stone steps, the automatic porch light flashes to life—blinding me like a deer in headlights. But I don’t stop walking. I reach the front door, raise my fist to the wood, and knock hard.
Flint doesn’t leave me waiting. He opens the door a moment later, filling the doorway with his giant frame. His features are shadowy in the darkness, but I can still make out his expression, the intensity in his eyes.
Any possibility that it could have been a mistake, a mix-up of some kind, vanishes in an instant when I meet Flint’s gaze. He knows exactly why I’m here. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, chest rising as he takes a sharp breath.
“It was you,” I say.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps back from the door and beckons me inside.
I hesitate for a moment, then step over the threshold, the door swinging shut behind me.
I follow Flint into the living room, where a fire is roaring in the hearth.
A tumbler of whiskey sits on the coffee table in front of a dark leather couch, the amber liquid dancing in the firelight.
Flint stands in front of the mantel and turns to face me, but he still doesn’t speak.
“It was you,” I say again, quieter this time. “Wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
The word lands between us with the finality of a gunshot. My head is spinning, a million questions bubbling to the surface as I stare up at Flint.
“How…how did you know?” I stammer. “About the auction…”
“I heard you on the phone with your friend.”
My heart jolts as I think back to my conversation with Everly by the creek. I try to remember everything I said. Everything Flint must have heard.
“You followed me down to the creek.”
It’s not a question. There’s no other way he could have listened to the call. No way he could have heard it from the office.
“Yes.”
He doesn’t sound embarrassed to have been caught out. His voice is gruff. Matter-of-fact. Deeper and growlier than ever.
“You heard what I said…and you found the auction…”
He nods his head once.
“You bid on it.”
He nods again.
“Why?” I ask, breathing hard. “Why did you do that?”
Flint’s expression darkens. “I wasn’t going to stand by and let a stranger buy you, Willa.”
“But all that money…”
“I wanted it to be enough to cover your debts,” he says. “Knew you wouldn’t accept charity.”
The room spins as I take in what he’s saying, trying to make sense of it all.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Flint takes a step toward me, his gaze softening. “Should have told you as soon as I bid.”
Something shifts then. It hangs in the air between us—what he actually bid on.
What I owe him.
Flint seems to read my mind. “You don’t owe me anything.”
I swallow hard. “You mean you don’t want—”
“Fuck, Willa, it doesn’t matter what I want.” His body stills, muscles clenching as if it’s taking him physical effort to speak. “Not gonna take advantage of you. I won’t be like all the other assholes who bid.”
“It’s what you paid for…” I whisper.
Flint makes a noise deep in his throat. He runs a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. It’s a long time before he speaks again, like he’s fighting an internal battle.
“I won’t be that guy,” he says eventually. “You deserve better than that.”
My heart thuds as I look at him. My boss. The man who found my listing and placed a bid the size of a small fortune to save me from a stranger and pay off my debts.
It was my mess, not his.
My problem.
But he made it his problem. Made me his problem.
From the moment I walked into his office, Flint has done nothing but try to take care of me.
Protect me.
Now he’s refusing to take advantage. Refusing to take what he’s owed, even though it looks like it’s costing him everything to say no. Refusing to accept what he paid $100,000 for because he thinks I don’t want him.
He’s wrong.
I’ve wanted him from the minute I saw him, towering like a giant in his green flannel shirt.
I’ve been trying to push it down, telling myself Flint was a distraction I couldn’t afford.
But he’s so much more than just a distraction.
So much more than just my boss. And as those stormy eyes bore into me, setting my skin on fire, I finally realize why the auction felt so wrong.
It wasn’t just about the money or the shame.
It was the thought of being with someone who wasn’t Flint Calloway.