Page 92 of The Mistletoe Makeover

“The auction is up next, right after the children’s choir finishes,” she whispers.

I glance at the audience and see the white auction signs scattered across rows. “Is it too late to back out?”

She frowns. “Yes, the other two committee members will go first, and then you’ll be the last one.”

“Last?” I swallow down the acid taste in my mouth from my nerves. Applause erupts as the children’s choir finishes and the emcee waves out the first person for the auction. Backstage, I can hear the bidding begin, but I try to block it out by checking my messages. A text from Jace pops up on my screen.

Jace:Ready for tonight?

I might as well pretend that I’m excited about this fundraiser. Otherwise, he might suspect that my feelings are more than just friendship.

Mia:Yep. Fingers crossed that whoever wins is not named Cal and is a good kisser.

Knowing my luck, it will be someone who’s as old as my grandpa, but I can’t help but tease Jace a little. After all, I don’t want him to think he’s the only one who’ll ever kiss me. After a pause, Jace finally responds.

Jace:I thought kissing you was my job.

A surge of energy courses through my body.Is this more flirting?Or does everything feel like flirting after you’ve kissed someone?

Mia:If someone else doesn’t get to me first.

I shut off my phone, feeling a twinge of triumph. I’m not planning on kissing anyone. But I don’t want Jace to think I’m so easily won over just because I let him be my first.

Loud applause pulls me back to the moment as my mom pushes me toward the edge of the curtain. “Your turn.”

“Next up, we have Mia MacPherson,” the emcee announces as I step onstage, blinded by the lights.

Remarkably, I make it to the emcee’s side without tripping. I give him a shaky smile, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible.

The emcee looks at his notes. “This front-row ticket has a minimum bid of at least one thousand dollars.”

There’s a murmur from the audience as I glance over at his notes to see if he made a mistake. That’s higher than the other starting bids.

Who would be crazy enough to bid that amount for a ticket?

“Who would like to start the bidding?” the emcee asks as he looks over the audience.

For a few agonizing seconds, no one responds. I fold my hands together to keep them from shaking. I don’t know how long I can stand here and endure this. If no one bids on this ticket, I’ll be horrified...

A movement catches my eyes. Someone on the aisle lifts their auction number. I squint to see a shadowed face toward the back of the theater.Cal.

My stomach drops. The thought of spending an evening with Cal is as appealing as finding a dead rat in my pantry.

The emcee smiles. “We have our first bidder. Would anyone like to bid fifteen hundred?”

I turn my head toward the emcee.Are you crazy?

Another hand goes up on the opposite side. “I’ll do fifteen hundred.”

It’s Nolan Whitmore, the elderly handyman who’s been instrumental to this festival. I let out my breath. I’m sure Nolan’s doing this as a favor to me, and I could kiss his cheek.

“How about two thousand?” the emcee asks, his eyes scanning the room.

Cal’s hand goes up again, and I have to restrain myself from reacting.

“Twenty-five hundred?” the emcee says, suddenly eager to jack up the bids as high as possible.

“I’ll bid that,” the mayor says, lifting his hand with a smile. I already know the mayor has a ticket, which means he’s forcing the bid higher in order to raise more money.

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