Page 101 of The Accidental Innkeeper

“Five hundred dollars,” Helen called.

“Seven!”

“One thousand!”

The numbers climbed fast, the crowd feeding off itself like this was a competitive sport instead of a fundraiser. I heard the tap of the mic. Another guy sold.

Helen didn’t miss a beat. “And for our fifth bachelor of the afternoon—”

More cheers. Someone screamed like they’d just won something. Someone else laughed too loudly.

The sound of it all pressed in from behind—loud, buoyant, unstoppable. Like the whole town had decided this was the highlight of the year and nothing short of a natural disaster was going to derail it.

Sabrina tugged lightly at my arm. “Ignore it,” she said. “They’ll be done soon enough.”

I nodded, even though ignoring it felt impossible. I wished I could ignore her.

Helen’s voice carried again. “Six hundred to start…”

I stared out at the ocean instead, calm and unbothered. Waves were rolling in like they always did, like no one was being auctioned off for charity fifty feet behind me.

A few more bachelors. Then it would be over.

Then I’d do what I’d agreed to do. I’d finish the day, keep my head down, and walk away without making anything messier than it already was.

Simple. I was good at simple. I just had to remember that.

And I had to remember that I was doing this for the town. For the lighthouse. For scholarships. For anything other than the fact that I’d stood on a stage and let strangers decide my worth in dollar amounts.

I’d agreed to this madness.

We stopped near the low fence overlooking the water. Sabrina leaned against it, all curves and confidence. “So,” she said, tilting her head, “what do you do when you’re not being auctioned off?”

“I work,” I said.

She laughed. “That’s it?”

“That’s most of it.”

“And the rest?”

I hesitated because the rest used to be simple—projects, solitude, control.

Now it had a face.

“I don’t really stay in one place,” I said instead. “I keep things… uncomplicated.”

Her smile sharpened. “I can be uncomplicated.”

I doubted that too.

Across the lawn, New York stood, catching my gaze for a second before turning and speaking animatedly with Becca. She smiled at something, bright and quick, and for a split second I wondered if I’d imagined everything between us.

Except I hadn’t.

She’d felt it too. I’d seen it in her eyes when she pulled back. The same calculation I was making now.

This was a bad idea.