Jake is a man who walks, talks, and prowls the catwalk with innate confidence. He knows who he is and where he’s going. He’s a man who works hard and loves harder, who believes in the value of a man’s word, and never gives a woman a second chance to make a bad impression.
He is never going to let me apologize, let alone forgive me.
Jake isn’t that kind of man. He only lets down his guard for a select few. Once his trust is betrayed—even if it was years ago by an eighteen-year-old girl who wasn’t grown up enough to know who she was, let alone who she wanted to be with for the rest of her life—an impenetrable wall goes up and it’s impossible to get through to him.
I might as well try begging a block of ice to give me a second chance to be friends.
The only shot I have is to appeal to his sense of honor. If I purchase him fair and square, he’ll feel obligated to spend the next four Fridays by my side. He’ll be forced to remain in my presence long enough for my pleas to have at least a shot of slipping through his defenses.
I have to do this.
I simply must, even though my logical brain insists that having Jamison in the picture will doom the plan from the start.
But it doesn’t matter. There’s no turning back now.
Gulping in a breath, I thrust my auction card into the air.
And then I do my best to memorize Jake’s smile as he squints my way, trying to see who the card belongs to, just in case I never get to see it again.
I may not know much, but I know he’s not going to be happy when he sees who’s bid on him.
Not happy.
At all.
Chapter Four
Jake
Holy hell, this is the worst.
The very, fucking worst.
But I clench my jaw and keep my smile firmly in place as Mitzy opens the bidding for my month of Fridays at two hundred dollars. It’s mortifying to be strutting around shirtless in front of a bunch of giggling women—half of whom are my former teachers, peers from school, or members of my extended family—but Bliss River needs a new firehouse yesterday.
The day before yesterday.
Every toilet in the station backs up on a regular basis, the roof is leaking so badly no patch-job stands a chance, and the break room is a pitiful beige nightmare that practically invites men to get into fistfights to liven up the joint.
Mitzy Chambers is a force of nature and has a gift for raising money. If she believes this month-long investment of my time will raise the funds for a new firehouse, then I’ll do my best to fetch a decent auction price. I have no illusions about selling for as much as Jamison—my baby brother has a way with the ladies and not a shy bone in his attention-whore body—but I don’t think I’ll embarrass the department.
“Go on, Jake,” Mitzy says, after asking the room for a five hundred dollar bid. “Show these ladies the strong arm they’ll be holding on to for the next four Fridays.”
Fighting the urge to cringe, I flex my bicep only to lose my shit when Mrs. Mulligan, an old friend of the family sitting by the stage, starts laughing so hard she falls out of her chair. I’m laughing, too, and about to jump off the stage to help her up, when an eerily familiar voice calls out—
“Fifteen hundred dollars.”
The shouts and laughter filling the room give way to swiftly indrawn breaths and shocked murmurs.
I lift my gaze, homing in on the owner of the voice. There, at the back of the room, with an auction card raised high above her head, her honey-streaked brown hair tumbling around her shoulders and her blue eyes round in her gorgeous face, stands Naomi Whitehouse.
Naomi, the only girl who has ever broken my heart.
The girl who told me my love wasn’t enough—I wasn’t enough—and ran off to date half the world.
On television, no less.
Naomi is almost as famous for her string of high-profile boyfriends as she is her cooking show, Down Home with Naomi, and her line of gourmet products. And now she’s back in Bliss River, playing house with her sister and brother while her parents snow-bird in Florida, thinking she can breeze back into my town, my life, and act like we’re long-lost friends.
Once upon a time, I loved the woman meeting my eyes across the crowded room more than my own family. There was a time when I would have done anything for her—moved to the ends of the earth to be by her side, given my last dime for her comfort, laid down my life for her happiness.
Now, I don’t want to give her the time of day.