“Pattie?”
Oliver’s voice had a weird edge of panic.
She was trying to bolt?
No way.
If she ran off, he’d be left wife-less.
He was always clowning on Sara’s dad for never being able to keep his wife home—always searching for her, or on his way to find her, again and again.
If Patricia left, wouldn’t he be the next big joke?
“You married me, not my dad. Why are you running away?”
“It’s lonely at the top. I get cold,” Patricia teased.
Mr. Padilla caught her tone and grinned. “Then let’s just stay here. No need to climb any higher.”
Patricia just pressed her lips together, not in the mood to bicker. All she wanted was to change her clothes.
The floor heating was cranked up and her turtleneck sweater was way too much.
“You enjoy your drink, I’m heading upstairs.”
“What for?”
“To change,” Patricia said, raising an eyebrow. “What, Mr. Padilla, you planning to help me?”
“Do I get that honor? After you, madam.”
Patricia’s eyes crinkled as she laughed, then she crooked her finger at Oliver. “Come on, then.”
For a second, the air between them was thick with playful, flirty energy.
Patricia changed and came back down. Johns walked in, holding an envelope.
“Mr. McKee sent this over, sir. It’s an invite to the Chamber of Commerce auction.”
Oliver never went to those things. Invitations like that went straight in the trash. “Toss it. Don’t bring me this kind of stuff again.”
“Understood.”
Patricia gave him a quick, curious look, but didn’t think too much about it.
Until Aurora messaged her.
A picture popped up on her phone: a pale blue invitation, exactly like the one Johns had just brought in.
Aurora: Got an invite to the Chamber cruise auction with your name on it. Want me to send it over?
Patricia stared at her phone, finger paused above the keyboard, hesitating.



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