Page 8 of His to Unwrap

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 persontaking 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.”

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