“I’d rather let him sweat a little,” I whisper.
“Seven hundred fifty!” a high-pitched voice calls.
Colt’s brow lifts slightly.
“Eight hundred!”
Kinsley lets out a low whistle. “This is starting to get serious.”
“I don’t like this,” I admit, even though I don’t sound nearly as casual as I want to.
“Eight fifty!”
“Nine hundred!”
The emcee’s smiling so wide now; I’m half worried her face might crack.
“Do I hear one thousand for Colt Valentine?”
A new voice cuts through the noise. “Two thousand.”
It’s not shouted. It doesn’t have to be because the second we all hear it, the entire tent goes quiet.
Colt’s head snaps toward the sound, and I already know who it is before I even turn.
Tessa.
There she is, standing at the edge of the crowd in a white tank top, skinny jeans, and heels that don’t belong anywhere near hay. Her arms are crossed, her chin lifts enough to be condescending, and her eyes are fixed on Colt like she’s claiming something from lost and found.
Whispers ripple around us, and Summer stiffens beside me. Kinsley mutters something under her breath that sounds an awful lot like a threat. Colt’s jaw tightens.
The emcee clears her throat, suddenly flustered. “Uh, do I hear twenty-five hundred?”
Every eye in the tent turns to his ex, who’s smirking like she’s already won.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
COLT
The emcee clears her throat, caught between surprise and panic. She’s in shock; I think the whole damn tent is, including me.
“Well,” she says, her voice pitched a little too high, “we’ve got a strong contender. I have two thousand on Colt Valentine. Do I hear twenty-five hundred?”
The silence stretches. No one moves. No one speaks.
Every eye in the tent has shifted toward Tessa, who’s standing tall with her chin lifted and arms still folded across her chest. She’s so sure of herself, so smug, like she played her winning card and is waiting for the applause.
Going on a date with her, even if it’s for charity, would be a nightmare.
My hands curl into fists at my sides. But I stay standing on this damn stage, being treated like something for sale, while the one person I care about is sitting a few feet away, rigid as stone. Sunny’s expression hasn’t changed, but something in her eyes has. They’re sharper now, like a firm decision has been made behind them. Hawks get the same focus right before they dive for a mouse.
The emcee tries again.
“Two thousand going once …”
My chest tightens as I snap my shirt closed. I’m going to have a discussion with Fenix after this.
“Going twice …”