Page 98 of Made for Mayhem

Mikko’s jaw tightened. “She’s a nice person.”

Mason barked out a laugh. “Nice? Shannon Wilder? Buddy, she’s as nice as a grizzly in lip gloss.”

Beckett grinned. “She made a grown man cry at the bake sale an hour ago.”

Mikko shrugged. “He deserved it.”

“How the hell do you know that, man? You were chasing a damn pig for the last hour.”

Beckett elbowed me. “Are you hearing this? I haven’t heard him mention a girl in years. Not after what’s-her-face left him high and dry in Finland a couple of summers ago.”

Mikko’s ears pinked. “Shannon has had a tough life. I want better for her. That’s all.”

“Right,” Mason said, dragging the word out. “You think a game of hide the Finnish sausage would make her feel better, Mikko?”

Beckett shook with laughter, and I shoved Mason in the chest, nearly knocking over a display. “Leave him alone. The man’s been here a day.”

“Exactly,” Mason said. “Chop, chop, buddy. Are you going to make a move?”

“Should I propose?” Mikko asked him. “How bad does it hurt to be rejected, since you’re so good at it?”

Beckett barked a laugh so loud that several people around us turned to stare. I ducked my head, laughing quietly under the brim of my hat.

We talked rink logistics for a while, then drifted down River Street beneath twinkle lights strung through the trees. The air smelled like lemonade and cotton candy, music thumping from the stage. People were everywhere—sticky-fingered, smiling, and happy.

Every vendor had a line, but a crowd formed halfway down the street by a red-and-white striped tent.

Beckett squinted. “What the hell is that?”

Delgado stood at the back, bouncing on his heels. “The date auction! Bidding restarts in five minutes. This is my shot.”

“Date auction?” Beckett echoed. “I forgot Emmy mentioned that. How long has this been happening?”

“Oh, all day, but it’s been guys. Can’t say I blame the ladies for not wanting to participate. I’d choose the bear too.”

“So who are you bidding on?” I asked, jaw already tightening.

We walked closer, and the chatter in my head died off.

Daisy stood right in the middle of the tent with a donation box that read Kiss the Old Rink Goodbye in swirling green marker.

Mason let out a low whistle, his arms crossed over his chest. “Oh, she’s a ten.”

Mikko’s mouth curved, staring at Daisy, and then at me. “Isn’t that⁠—”

“Yep,” Beckett answered, staring right at me. “Sure is.”

My stomach dropped.

Bob, the owner of the Linwood Grocer, tapped the mic, feedback squealing loud enough to make half the crowd wince. “Alright, Mayhem, who’s ready for the next date auction?”

The cheer that followed made something hot twist in my chest.

“This is a wholesome date with our very own Daisy,” Bob continued. “She’s 27, new to town, and ready to be shown what Linwood is all about. Like the other auctions, this date is cashed in today at the carnival. Food, games, maybe the Ferris wheel. No funny business, no pressure, and all proceeds go to the rink expansion project.”

Daisy leaned into the mic. “I was told this would be low-stress,” she said. “So, I expect to win at Skee-Ball and get my own funnel cake.”

The crowd roared.