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  He immediately catapulted, a sigh escaping him. "Okay, fine, I'll tell you. It's probably best you knew anyways. But you didn't hear it from me."

  She gave a slight nod. "Agreed."

  "Ethan is going to kill me if he ever found out you heard this from me," he muttered. Then with another sigh, he confessed, "He asked Jaclyn to ask all the other women at the auction not to bid on him."

  Perplexed, Rebel said, "Not bid on him? But she asked me to bid on him, saying he looked so pitiful up there with no one bidding on him."

  "Exactly. He wanted you to bid on him."

  "Me? But why me?"

  He gave her a funny look. "Couldn't you guess? He's crazy about you. Since the first day he laid eyes on you. Talking you up, flirting with you, when he's normally shy around women."

  "But he always has women hanging on his arms. His nickname is Mr. Hot Stuff!"

  "Because they won't leave him alone. But he was never into that. It makes him uncomfortable, to be honest. Maybe that's part of why he liked you—you didn't fawn all over him like the others. And he originally got that nickname because he's a firefighter. But the guys at the station found it hilarious to apply it to his popularity with the women once they saw the droves who followed him."

  The revelation smacked Rebel in the face. She had pegged him all wrong, from the very beginning.

  And she needed to apologize, grovel on her knees, really—as soon as possible. Grabbing her jacket, she hurried to the door, Jared at her heels.

  She turned toward him. "Thanks, Jared," she said, then gave him a grateful hug.

  "You're welcome. Now go find him and make up with him. Because, frankly, he's been a real bear the last week."

  Sometimes when a person wanted something, they had to take action and go after it themselves.

  That was how Rebel found herself stretched out on Ethan's bed the next evening, just like she had all those weeks ago, with a skimpy négligée on, leaving little to the imagination. Only this time she was waiting for him and not his best friend. And this time she heard his footsteps approaching. At the sound of them, her hands suddenly felt clammy and her heartbeat sped up to twice its normal rate, but she took a deep breath, determined to stay right where she was. Never mind the handcuff shackling her to the bed.

  Closer and closer the footsteps came until finally his large frame appeared in the doorway. He slowed his pace to one of uncertainty, surprise crossing his features, but by the time he reached a full stop his face was a blank canvas, giving nothing away of his feelings after his initial surprise.

  "Rebel? What are you doing here?" His words were spoken with care—and with none of the lightness from the first night he had caught her in his bed.

  She didn't know whether to cry, make a glib remark to ease the tension heavy in the room, or to forget it all and run for it, despite her earlier resolve. It was a good thing her manacled wrist settled the matter. She opted for alluring.

  "Trying to be seductive. Is it working?" She ran a hand slowly over the length of her body.

  But instead of tempting him, he reacted by pressing his lips together in a grim line. "Jared isn't here."

  Her hands stopped midway up the center of her chest. "I—I know."

  Any sliver of confidence withered away and she tugged on the comforter with her free hand, drawing it over her to cover her state of undress, tears threatening to appear any second. This had been a big mistake. Maybe Jared had been wrong. She shouldn't have come.

  "I better go," she said, scrambling to the bedside—only to be yanked back again by the handcuff, just like last time.

  She heard him sigh, then make his way closer to her. "Here, let me help you with that." She looked up to find him retrieving the key to the handcuff from the edge of the nightstand before he leaned over her to unlock the cuff. She also noticed he had been careful not to straddle her like he did the last time, keeping his feet planted over the side of the bed. Once he had released her, she rushed to wrap herself into her coat, to cover her foolishness as quickly as possible so she wouldn't embarrass him any further.

  Grabbing her purse, she raced toward the door, only to turn back and mumble, "I'm sorry for all this," indicating the bed. "I guess I misunderstood something. I incorrectly assumed you were interested. I'll let myself out." She would wait to fall apart once she was alone and out of his sight.

  "I was interested," he said from behind her when she had almost reached the door. At his words, she turned back to face him.

  "Then what made you lose interest?"

  "I realized I didn't have a chance with you. Not with your preconceived notions about me. I sensed them, even tried to treat you like a gentleman would, telling myself you would eventually see I wasn't what you thought I was like. But that didn't seem to happen. So I thought it best to cut my losses before I fell harder."

  "And had you. . . fallen?" She held her breath as she waited for his answer.

  "Oh, yeah, most definitely," he said with a self-deprecating laugh before he began pacing. "But I don't want to be just a tumble in the bed when you want to indulge. That's not good enough for me. I want nights on the couch watching movies together. I want breakfast in bed. I want dreams. I want marriage. Kids. I want a lifetime with one person." He stopped, anguish on his face. "I thought you might be that person."

  With tears in her eyes, she stared at him for countless seconds, then whispered, "I want all those too."

  "Just not with me."

  A tear slipped from her eye. She'd made such a mess of things!

  "Yes, with you," she corrected. "It just took me a while to see it. Because you're right, I did have preconceived notions about you. Unwarranted, I see that now, but at the time I thought you to be so much like my ex."

  "And he treated you badly." It was a statement, not a question.

  "Yes. Let's just say he liked the attention women gave him. But now I know you're nothing like my ex. You're kind, sweet, thoughtful. Loyal." At his continued silence, she said softly, "I misjudged you."

  When he still failed to respond, any fledgling hope extinguished. With a wobbly sigh, she said, "Anyways, I hope you the best. Sorry again. Goodbye, Ethan."

  She was about to turn toward the door once more when he said, "I have another charity event to attend next Saturday. Want to come? As my date, I mean."

  As she looked up into his eyes, she could see the uncertainty lurking within those sea-green eyes, even after all she had confessed, and her stomach clenched for him, a sharp spasm that was reminiscent of the pain she had endured in the past. How could a man as beautiful as he, someone who had dozens of women who would gladly accompany him, worry he would be turned down? And she realized she wasn't all that much better than her ex.

  But, if Ethan would let her, she would do her best so that the uncertainty never appeared again.

  Running toward him, she flung her arms around him. Laughing, he asked, "Is that a yes?"

  She laughed too. "What do you think?" He never answered her, because his lips had captured hers, a deep kiss that held promises and replaced the laughter with a heat that spread through her entire body until she would have fallen to the floor in a limbless heap if his arms weren't holding her up.

  Later, after countless kisses and whispered dreams, secure in his feelings for her, she had the courage to tease him. "I bet Gemma would have been willing to go to that charity event with you. Too bad for her though," she said, leaning closer into him. "I heard she brings you all kinds of baked goods to tempt you."

  "She brings me all those goodies because I saved her husband's life when he was choking on a piece of chicken. They're tokens of her gratitude."

  "Then why did she bid on you at the auction? I ended up paying a thousand dollars for you!"

  "Oh, that?" He laughed. "She wanted to squeeze a little more money out of you. She knew how you thought she was trying to chase me and wanted a little payback and knew you wouldn't let her win."

&n
bsp; "Oh." Rebel's face heated at how wrong she had been. "I'll apologize to her tomorrow. I hope she'll accept my apology."

  "I'm sure she will. Gemma's a nice gal."

  Rebel hoped so. She'd made so many misjudgments since she'd come to Daleview, but they'd all been so forgiving of her. And for that, she was grateful.

  "But what about tonight? What are your plans for the rest of the night?" he asked as he gathered her in his arms.

  As she looked up at Ethan's twinkling sea-green eyes, she knew though she had made many mistakes, she'd finally made the best decision when it came to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned in.

  "Sitting on the couch with you, watching a good movie, of course."

  — The End —

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  Lacie Doyle writes across the romance spectrum, including contemporary romance, romantic comedy, erotic romance, and sweet romance. When she is busy working on a book, she can usually be found procrastinating by watching cat videos on the Internet. She believes in happily-ever-afters.

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