Page 2 of Auctioned to the Mountain Man

Snow has covered most of my rear windshield, but I can still see the outline of a massive hunter green truck as it pulls up behind me. One that’s probably worth more than my house.

My heart pounds, not because I’m worried this man’s a serial killer. Oh no. With a truck like that, I’m almost certain he’s one of the men who’ll be at the auction. Bidding on women like me. I allow myself a single moment ofwhat the fuck have I gotten myselfintobefore I meet this challenge head on.

Maybe if I flirt—play up a damsel in distress act—he might bid a little higher on me tonight.

Per the contract, I’m guaranteed a base amount of money simply for getting on stage that will at the very least cover Kayleigh’s next semester of tuition. But it’s the bonus based on thewinningbid that now has my full attention. A bonus that could grant me some financial breathing room. The higher the bid, the bigger my bonus.

Before I can successfully reapply my bright red lipstick, there’s a knock on my window.

It’s show time.

I summon my best inner naïve woman—the one who’d never admit to a big, strong man that she knows how to change herown tire if she actually had a spare tire to put on—and push open the door. “Oh thank goodness you’re—Fox?”

“Alida?”

Anger bubbles in my chest like hot lava. The last person I need coming to my rescue is my late brother’s best friend. The same man who I told to go straight to hell the day after Brett’s funeral.FoxHansen.

It’s decided. Santa fuckinghatesme.

CHAPTER

TWO

FOX

Alida Kingston will be the fucking death of me.

I’ve survived two combat tours, three bullets, and a Humvee rollover in enemy territory. I’ve had more brushes with death than I can count. And yet, this woman makes all of those experiences seem like child’s play.

One task.

One fucking task.

Keep my sisters safe if anything happens to me.

Brett warned me the oldest of his two sisters was hot headed and stubborn, but his words can’t hold a candle to the fire within the actual woman.

“I don’t need your help,” Alida snaps. “I’veneverneeded your help.”

I scrub a hand over my beard, buying myself a couple of seconds to calm the fuck down. This woman makes me fucking crazy. “What the hell are you doing out here?” I demand, though I already know the answer. When I caught wind that Alida had signed herself up for this auction, I nearly lost my shit. She’s far from innocent, but that doesn’t mean she belongs in a placelike that. A place where the richest of the rich come to play with women like they’re toys.

“What areyoudoing out here?” she fires back, a sparkle of victory in those baby blues. As though she’s somehow caught me.

Did I get an invite to the annual Naughty List Christmas Auction? Yeah, I fucking did. And, if it wasn’t for Alida, this would be the third year in a row I’d be declining an invitation that used to go to my asshole father. But I couldn’t stand the thought of one of those elite assholes buying Alida like she’s some sex slave. I’ve kept my distance like Alida asked, but this crossed a fucking line.

“Let’s stop pretending like we’re not both headed to the same place, sweetheart. The road only leads to one destination.”

Her parted lips hang open, but whatever she was about to say is lost to the momentary expression of surprise. Maybe that’ll shut her up long enough for me to assess the damage to her car. But before I can ask her to pop the hood, she asks, “How didyouget an invite?”

I fold both arms over my chest, as though we have all damn day to do this. And unless she allows me to pull her car out of the ditch, we probably do. “That so hard to believe?”

“If you had millions, I think I’d probably know about it.”

“Hard to know a guy when your only interaction with him was to tell him to go fuck himself.”

“I believe I told you to go hell, actually.” She rubs her hands together, and I spot the bright pink color of her fingertips. Because I’d been following her out here, I know Alida hasn’t been stranded long. But with the way the temperatures are plummeting, frostbite is still a valid concern.

“Why don’t you go sit in my truck?” I offer.

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