“What makes you think I’m not local?”
She cocked her head to the side, and to my surprise, her smile broadened. Becoming infectious. “Your suit.” She nodded at my wrist when I reached for my drink. “And your watch. I doubt any of my patrons have seen a Patek Philippe watch.”
I followed her gaze. “You have.”
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “My ex was obsessed with shit he couldn’t afford.”
“He likes watches.” Most of my friends collected something or the other.
“Not just watches,” she admitted. “Cars, vacations, and women.”
I chuckled. It seemed I had gotten myself a straight talking bartender, a refreshing change from mindless conversation or flirtation. The Scotch went down smoothly, and I knew she’d poured from her best bottle.
“You’re not one of those dreamers, are you?” She hesitated before topping up my drink.
“I assure you,” I chuckled. “I can afford my drinks.”
“Good, because tonight’s proceeds go toward a good cause.”
“I’m all for causes,” I smiled, taking another sip from my glass.
She reached under the bar and placed an auction paddle on the bar-top. “You’re going to need this if you’re going to bid.”
Before I could tell her I wouldn’t be bidding, she went off to serve another customer. I shook my head and took another sip. The drink went down easy and the brief distraction was enough to forget why I was in Candy Cane Key. I welcomed the burn in my throat. The band’s high-pitched notes and the noise from individual conversations drowned all thoughts of the wild cat from my brain.
The song ended. A man hopped onto the stage and asked if they were ready for the next round of bidding, stirring the half-drunk crowd up again. I ignored the entire fiasco untilhername rumbled from the overhead speakers, stopping my heart.
“The highest bidder wins a date with Charity Dawson,” the man said.
It couldn’t be. Her name was nothing more than my mind playing tricks on me. Slowly, I faced the stage. As if to add to my torment, Sexy Little Christmas by DYLN hummed in the background.
“Hi Mason, when did you get into town?”
“Just now,” I said.
While transfixed by the beauty who occupied too much of my thoughts, I absentmindedly responded to Naomi, another blast from the past seated beside me, my mouth on autopilot.
From the shadows at the corner of the bar, I watched my wild cat twirl in a sexy red and white number looking like a present to be unwrapped. Six-inch red pumps made her smooth brown legs longer.
My world spun.
Tilted dangerously.
The man beside me whistled, as did every man in the building. “I’ve been waiting for this all night,” the man set down his beer.
Charity was nothing like I remembered. She was no longer my best friend’s little girl. She was all grown up. But while her smile was flirty, there was a come-get-me gleam in her eyes that I knew every man in here saw. Wanted.
My fingers clenched the glass before I let go and reached for the discarded paddle. And I knew before I’d placed my bid I was about to be reckless even as I promised I wouldn’t burn my closest friendship.
“Shall we start the bidding at five hundred dollars?”
“One thousand!” The man beside me shouted.
“Two hundred thousand,” I said, and a hush fell over the room.Fuck.This wasn’t a New York auction, but I didn’t give a damn because Charity Dawson was not leaving tonight with anyone but me.
CHAPTERTWO
CHARITY
