Nobody moves. Nobody says anything. And I’m pretty sure it means I’m going on a date with Leonard Figgins, where he will no doubt grill me on any- and everything, and I’ll walk out a headline.

“Five thousand.”

My head whips toward Parker, who is staring down at Leonard with sharp eyes and a face that says Try me.

“You can’t do that,” he tells her, fuming.

“What? I can’t donate to a good cause?” she challenges.

“Yeah, can’t she donate too?” someone says.

“Let her bid!”

The volume kicks up, and everyone agrees that Parker should be allowed to play along with everyone else.

“But you . . . you . . .” Leonard stomps his foot. “Ugh! I’m out.”

Parker smiles victoriously. “Well, there you have it. Noel Carter, sold to the highest bidder—me.”

She bangs the gavel, making it official.

I was wrong. I’m not going on a date with Leonard. I’m going with Parker.

And damn if I haven’t been more excited for anything in my life.