The Auction: Young Adult Romance, New Adult Romance, Forbidden Love (Magnolia Grove Book 1) (7 page)

“We’re not doing this here. What’s done is done. Live with it.” Did he just treat me like my mother used to treat me when I didn’t get my way in high school?

Closing my eyes, I bite the side of my cheek. Reaching for the knife, I cut into the juicy steak that’s just been delivered. At least one thing’s gone my way. They waited to serve the rest of our food until our part in the auction was done so it’s not ice cold. I’m not sure whose idea it was to do that stupid idea of a fundraiser in the middle of dinner.

I can sense Holden’s presence on my other side, breathing in his woodsy, fresh scent mixed with my perfume. The smell of us.

There is no us.

His breath is on my ear, and I hope the goosebumps erupting everywhere on my body aren’t visible to anyone else. “Remind me where you found your definition of asshole? Was that in Webster? Because I think if I were to look it up, it’d have his name in the example instead of mine.”

Glaring at him, I take a bite, and then drop my utensils, the taste of bile overpowering every other sense. “Please excuse me, y’all.”

As I walk around the grounds, I can’t help but wonder if I’m really making the biggest mistake of my life, or if Holden’s just screwing with me because he hates these events—like I’m some game to play to pass the time?

How could my fiancé not know me well enough to pick my package? How could Oliver seem so casual about the possibility of taking another girl on a date? He seemed so relaxed and comfortable with Charity in his arms on the dance floor. He also couldn’t have seemed to have cared less that I just left him at the table alone. What guy doesn’t go after the girl when she runs away? Does he even give a fuck about my feelings? Did he intentionally stand me up in the cabana?

I shake my head. He loves me. He’s just preoccupied and distracted by the Ken McIvoy project.

He may love me, but so does my brother. There’s a difference between being in love and loving someone.

But does Oliver make love to me? Are we lovers?

I’m not sure what we do can even be called making love. Holden’s kiss did more for me than sex with Oliver. Some things should just come naturally. I shouldn’t have to try to make the sex hot with the person I’m about to marry.

Somehow, my feet made their way back to the front door stoop of the cabana. As if I didn’t manage to get myself into enough trouble here earlier, I reach into my bra and pull out the key to the door. After placing the key in the hole and turning the knob, I take one step in before my eyes are fixed on the wall Holden pushed me against earlier.

Stupid. Why did I come back here?

Closing the door, I let my weight fall against it. I clench my eyes closed and let the memories of him watching as I straightened my skirt play. Despite the clothing that covers me, I shiver. This is all his fault. How dare he come in and act like he has some kind of claim over me? My blood boils deep within my heart. Even with the fury escalating, I’d be lying if I denied the fact I briefly considered stripping in front of him and letting him continue to do whatever the hell he pleased.
How exactly is that his fault, Cammie?

Shaking my head, I take a few steps, then plop down on the couch, letting out a sigh. I’ve always fought the way Holden makes me feel, the effect he’s always had on me. Why? For the sake of pleasing my parents, this stupid little Magnolia Grove society as a whole?

A Spencer with
the
Masters boy?

No, that’s the ultimate of unacceptable. At least now it was after everything that happened with his father. What if Holden’s right, though? What if I want more for my life than Oliver? Even if that’s not actually Holden.

I think I really do deserve better. It’s just that Holden can’t be better. And even if I end things with Oliver, there’s an overwhelming, nearly paralyzing fear of calling off the wedding. What would people think? Burying my head into my hands, I close my eyes. I didn’t even realize how much they were burning until I get the instant relief of them being shut.

The cabana’s far enough away that I can’t hear the sound of the band or the chatter of the people. Without Holden or Oliver at my side, I exhale loudly. Maybe if after doing this a couple of times it doesn’t work, I can find another pillow to scream into. That made me feel a little better earlier. No, that’s not what’s going to fix this.

Time.

I just need some time to clear my head.

My body stiffens, my head pops up, and my heartbeat quickens at the sound of footsteps approaching. There are only two people who would come after me. My stomach flips, flutters, and bile rises in my throat, the nausea stirring. My face reddens, once again my body betraying me because, despite the unintentional betrayal to Oliver, the only thing I can think about is how I hope those footsteps belong to Holden.

Clenching my jaw tight and squeezing my fists, thinking about Oliver makes me want to scream. Scream and punch something. And I’ve never been the aggressive type. How would Oliver know I came here? The more I ponder who it could be, the more I know in my heart it has to be Holden. I knew earlier if I tried to escape the hell that’s been tonight he’d find me. He found me here earlier. It’s become abundantly clear Oliver never pays attention to what I want. From the way we spend our quality time to the ring he chose, even the location of his proposal, it’s
always
been about what he likes. What he wants. If only he’d paid any attention to me at all, he would have won my auction.

Was I the one to upset her or was it just all too much? I’m thinking this heaviness in my chest is probably what it feels like to be an asshole. Except, I’m watching Oliver, who has me trumped. He’s resumed business talk with his buddies, as if nothing’s happened, as if no one is missing from this goddamn table.

I narrow my eyes, clenching my jaw. Is sitting on his ass all he knows how to do? Did no one teach him that when a girl runs away she wants to be chased? Since Oliver fails to move a muscle, refusing to go after her, then maybe I’ll use this to my advantage. I will. I knew he was a special kind of douche. But this. This is just mind fuckin’ blowing.

I have plenty of money, no thanks to my father. I couldn’t care less about social standing. This is probably all thanks to my dad. I learned long ago that none of this shit, that no amount of money, is worth much if you sacrifice the ones you love for it. At every function, I’ve watched Oliver climb the business ladder, acquiring more and more clout, all the while dismissing Cammie like she’s a shiny object with no brains or feelings. I squeeze my fists together in my lap, resisting the urge to jerk him up by his collar and use him as a punching bag. There’s no one who deserves attention more than her, and it’s clear, just like all the other times, Oliver chooses his own interests over Cammie’s. Every. Damn. Time.

Pushing the chair out from the table, I drop the cloth napkin on my plate, but grab Cammie’s meal. I’ve had plenty of time to eat, but she’s barely had a bite. To think that all this time, I’ve thought I had to wait until the date to show her she’s made a mistake. The minute we locked lips in the cabana, my plan has been somewhat thwarted, but in the best of ways. She can deny she experienced any pleasure from our tryst, but she definitely responded to me. There was no doubt she was turned on.

I’ll find her, feed her, make sure she gets enough so she doesn’t pass out, and I’ll try really hard not to pressure her. Even if I held the same professional position as Oliver, I’d never put my business dealings, or anything else, above her feelings. Above her. In fact, I can’t imagine any priority or obligation being important enough to cause her pain. This is my chance to demonstrate that I have a kind heart because, unbeknownst to most, I do.

Unfortunately, I’ve been so busy watching Oliver I didn’t see the direction she headed. Logic tells me she’s at one of two places: the restroom or the cabana. The bathroom would be packed, though, so my better guess is on the last place we were alone.

My strides are long and brisk. As soon as the cabana is within sight, I see the door isn’t completely shut. My instinct, once again, is spot-on. Grinning, I tap on the door before entering. “Cam, it’s me.”

“I obviously wanted time alone. So, fuck off.”

Damn. “You’ve got quite the potty mouth these days.” I chuckle. “It’s fucking hot as hell, but I told myself I’d be quiet, so I’m gonna shut up now and just come in. You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to act like I’m here, but you need to eat somethin’.”

She doesn’t say anything, so I push the door open, closing and locking it behind me. “Here,” I say, offering her the plate.

Her chin lifts and we’re staring into each other’s eyes, a standoff of sorts. She offers a small smile, which her furrowed brows contradict. Over the years, I’ve memorized her facial expressions, but I’m not sure if she’s glad to see me. Or not. “Thank you, but I lost my appetite a long time ago.”

“You need to eat. Just a few bites. Don’t make me beg more than I already have tonight.”

She’s on the sofa, her elbows resting on her knees, glaring at me. “I thought you said you were going to be quiet.”

Pulling a chair over, I place it in front of her, then sit down. “I said I would be quiet while you ate. If you’re not going to eat, I’m gonna annoy the hell out of you till you do.” I slice a piece of the filet, jab it with the fork, and offer it to her. “Want me to shut my mouth, then open yours.”

Cammie’s lips barely part, close, and then open again. She leans forward, accepting the delicate morsel.
Atta girl
.

While she chews that, I honor my promise to keep quiet. I cut the rest of the meat into pieces. I inch closer, offering her another bite. She moves closer too. Soon, we’re mere inches from each other. Her warmth, her flowery, sweet scent makes me reposition myself in the chair to keep my raging hard-on at bay. When I notice she has something in the crevice of her lips, instead of offering a handkerchief—like a gentleman would do—I gently brush my finger over the spot. I never said I was a gentleman. Or did I? I don’t care. I just want to touch her, to suck those lips until they’re swollen. I want to taste every bit of her mouth with mine.

Fuck.

I refuse to kiss her again after what happened earlier. I thought she wanted it then, but now, the only way that’s going to happen is if she initiates it or asks for it. But even with that said, there’s no way in hell I’m backing away, giving her any space. I’m staying put right where I am hoping she’ll be the one to beg me to finish what we started earlier.

I follow her eyes as they wander to the framed photo of our families near the entry. She’s standing with her brother, mom, and dad. Violet, my baby sister, and I are in front of Mom and Dad. Those were the good ole days. So good it hurts like a bitch. Her face tightens and her eyes squint. Seeing that picture, that look on her face, works better than a cold shower.

“Thank you for bringing me food. That was really sweet.” She stands and points to the door. “I should probably go.”

Focus, Holden
. I put the plate down and close the small amount of distance she put between us. “Do something for me the next couple of weeks until our date, will you?”

Her head tilts. “What’s that?” The crease I’ve seen on her forehead most of the night disappears.

I brush a stray piece of hair away from her eye. It’s so fucking soft. Her breath hitches, and so does mine. “Really observe how he treats you, Cammie. I mean, think long and hard about whether you can be happy for the rest of your life with him.” Shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing her head and pulling her into a kiss, I take a step back. “Even if you decide after our date you still want nothing to do with me. I just want you to be happy, Cam. And I don’t think you are.” What I want to say is that I want to be the one to make her happy, to please her in every way, to be the name she screams when she’s falling over the edge of ecstasy, but I can’t be responsible for her frowns and tears any more than I already have been tonight. My family has caused hers enough anguish. I don’t want to be the cause of her confusion, but rather the spark that lights the path to clarification for her. I want her decision to be abundantly clear, preferably before our date, not after.

She doesn’t say anything. She just swallows, nodding before unlocking the door, opening it, and walking out. Twice tonight I’ve had to watch her leave me, and that’s not something I want to get used to. That, or the heaviness that resides in my chest each time. But I’ve done what I came to do. Hell, I’ve done far more than I could’ve dreamed. I tasted her lips. We did the dance of lovers. And I fucking won her auction. Now, the only thing left to do is win her heart.