Page 1 of Auctioned to the Mountain Man

CHAPTER

ONE

ALIDA

All I want for Christmas is not to be stuck in this damned ditch.

If Santa was feelingextrakind, maybe he’d let me wish away the steam currently hissing from my radiator. Or hell, maybe the jolly old man could’ve just left me a spare tire a few days before The Big Day. You know, before things get really crazy for him and the reindeers. I’d have beenthrilledwith a new phone charger cordnotchewed up by my sister’s cat, Meatloaf. Either option would really come in handy at the moment.

This is what I get for signing my name on the dotted line and offering myself up for auction.

I suppose selling yourself for Christmas is a one-way ticket to Santa’s naughty list—and not the fun kind.

“Dammit,” I grumble, trying for the tenth time to turn my phone back on. Hoping the ancient device is just being cranky and still has one or two percent of juice left in her so I can call for help. But I’m certain I used up the last of its battery on the maps app. Of course an exclusive auction like this would be held up a mountain in the middle of fucking nowhere.

I peer through the snow-dotted windshield, hoping to catch a glimpse of the so-called mansion through the thick, frosty trees. Thankfully I do have an emergency survival kit, which includes a pair of snow boots. But I’m not excited at the prospect of hiking straight uphill for however many miles I still have to go.

“This is a sign, right?” I ask the Universe.

When my coworker Janelle slipped me an exclusive invitation to participate in what she called therich boy holiday auctionlast week, I thought it was a joke. It had to be for the sum of money they were guaranteeing the women willing to take the stage.

“It’s real, Hun,” she promised in a hushed tone as we finished our rounds. It’s always been a little hard to take her seriously when she wears such adorable scrubs year round, but this time she was in a set of skating snowmen and it was all I could do not to giggle at the combination. Still, she insisted that the only way to be considered for this auction was to be invited by someone on the inside. “It’s life changing money. Especially when you get those really big bids.”

I couldn’t argue that I needed a life-changingsomethingto happen. It seemed no matter how many shifts I worked at the hospital, it was never enough. I’d tried an exhausting number of side hustles too, but none of them ever panned out.

I could make ends meet, or I could save for Kayleigh’s tuition, but never both.

“But what about the men?” I’d asked, shuddering at the images that question conjured. No sum of money—no matter how badly I needed it—could be worth sleeping with some old, crusty, misogynistic rich guy. The idea of it made my lady bits shrivel up and hide.

“Highly vetted,” she’d promised. “All of them rich. All of them magazine cover worthy. Background checks on all ofthem,” she added when she realized my reservations were starting to quiver.

Because I wanted to believe her, I reallyneededto believe her, I entertained the idea. “What would I have to do exactly?”

Thinking back, it might have been Janelle’s sly grin in that moment that pushed me off the fence. “For one night, you let them take you to sinfully delicious heights you didn’t even know existed.”

Considering it’d been well over a year since a man had given me anything close to a Big O, I had to admit the proposition intrigued me. Would it be so terrible if, for just one night, I let some sexy stranger stroke all my favorite pleasure buttons? She insisted these men were a rare breed, turned on by gifting a woman pure ecstasy in the bedroom.

In the end, I justified my signature on the surprisingly long contract as an adult consenting to a paid one-night stand. A night of sexual indulgence in exchange for the financial security I desperately needed.

In many ways, it seemed like a win-win. A small price to pay for some financial breathing room.

The best part was, I’d never have to see the man again.

I couldn’t decide if that made the money better or dirtier.

Either way, I had no desire to tell my little sister I didn’t have the money for her spring semester tuition. Or that I’d been forced to drain my savings earlier this year when the roof of our childhood home started to leak so badly I had no choice but to have the whole thing replaced. Insurance refused to cover a dime. That was the first major repair in a string of really shitty luck. If I had any sense, I’d sell the house before it bankrupted me.

But I promised Mom on her death bed that I would save our little falling apart split level on Holly Lane. No matter what.

I also promised her I would look after Kayleigh.

Since Brett’s passing three years ago, I was now the oldest. It was my responsibility to keep what little we had left together.

Thankfully Kayleigh scored an all-expenses-paid ski trip with her college bestie’s family this Christmas. It means she’ll never know what I’m about to do.

“Snow boots it is.”

I’m lacing up a boot when I hear the roar of a diesel engine. Instantly, I stiffen and search my Honda for anything that could be used as a weapon. Do I have a small addiction to crime podcasts? Maybe. Does that encourage me to practice tightening my grip around the shaft of a flashlight like it’s a baseball bat? Yes. Yes, it does.

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