Page 27 of Goalie and the Girl Next Door (Love in Maple Falls #5)
CLéMENT
I stand just offstage, hiding behind a velvet curtain, and I wonder—for the hundredth time—what in the name of Edith Piaf I’m doing here.
In France, we do not auction men for dates.
We flirt. We linger. We write poetry that makes people weep into their red wine. We do not parade across a stage while strangers wave numbered paddles and holler. I’m just thankful Mathieu doesn’t arrive for a few more days. For him to be witness to this would mean lifelong jabs at my expense.
And thus, the show begins.
The spotlight hits our teammate Jackson Flint, and he walks onto the stage with an easy, confident grin. The crowd—mostly women, but a few enthusiastic dad types—erupts into cheers. Someone whistles.
Oh la la.
I want to be somewhere else, anywhere else. On the ice. In the bathroom, fixing a leaky faucet. At a DMV line that stretches to the next town.
Ms. Thompkins’ voice booms. “Who would like to spend a couple of hours with Jackson?”
Jackson gives a little wave, does the required turn, and stands like he’s waiting to be knighted.
I lean back against the wall and sigh. I could have volunteered to work the bar. Serve drinks. Wash dishes. Maybe host a charcuterie workshop—something that aligns with my skill set.
Instead, I let peer pressure and a moment of ill-advised confidence talk me into this.
Meanwhile, I let Marcy believe I wasn’t going to do it, and I will never forget that look on her face when Jamie blurted it out. She was hurt.
Jackson’s bid climbs steadily. There’s a shout from a woman in a sequined denim jacket and an expression of deeply committed fandom.
The next thing I know, Jackson’s turn is over and I don’t know who won him.
“Next up!” Ashlyn calls. “Cade Lennox!”
Cade jogs out, charming and polished. The crowd surges again.
I stare at the floor and wonder if I can use my migraine situation as an excuse, but I’m not ready for that truth to be out there.
I could tell them I’ve come down with an acute case of cultural misalignment. That much would be true. But then Maple Falls would miss out on making that extra money and I’d be labeled as the guy who didn’t play well with others.
Instead, I adjust my cuffs, breathe, and I pray that when it’s my turn, I can walk out there like it means nothing. It really is nothing, because there’s only one woman I want.
One woman who isn’t even in the crowd.
The lights go bright again as Cade walks offstage, red- faced but grinning like he just won a prize and not the other way around.
“Next up, our Euro export!” Ashlyn crows from the mic.
“Can I fake a cupcake emergency?” I mutter, hoping that the guys around me think it’s a joke.
“Go on,” Weston says, nudging me with his elbow. “Flash those smoldering eyes. You’re about to make more money for this town than the firemen calendar and the PTA bake sale combined.”
Asher smirks. “With that accent and your whole brooding don’t-wanna-be-here energy, the women out there are about to lose their collective minds.”
I grimace. “I am not brooding.”
Lucian raises a brow. “You literally just said you might fake a cupcake-related injury to avoid going onstage.”
“I was joking.” I wasn’t.
He adjusts his sleeves and leans in. “If you’re lucky, it’s the accountant who’ll bid highest.”
My heart stutters. “What?”
Lucian grins. “Marcy. Saw her out there.”
My pulse kicks harder. “She’s here?”
“Yup. Back right. I spotted her when the lights went up for Cade. Arms crossed. Eyes locked on the stage like she was trying not to enjoy herself. But I’d bet you anything, she’s not here for the cupcakes.”
My mouth is dry. My brain's scrambling for meaning. If she came…
Before I can even think, someone behind me claps me on the back—maybe Weston again, maybe Asher—and says, “Go knock ’em dead, Frenchie.”
Ashlyn’s voice booms out, “He’s got a heart of gold, hands of steel, and an accent you’ll want to put on toast…Maple Falls, don’t hold back—here comes your oh-la-la!”
I step into the spotlight while searching for one woman in a sea of strangers.
The light blinds me the moment I step past the curtain. I lift my hand instinctively, shading my eyes. The crowd is cheering louder than I expect. Someone hoots, another whistles. A voice near the front calls out, “Talk in French!” followed by a more indelicate suggestion I pretend not to hear.
“Bonjour…” I squint, peering through the beams and shadows, scanning the rows. Where is she?
There she is.
Back right, exactly where Jamie said. Arms crossed, shoulders tight, and her mouth set in a line that could cut granite.
But she’s here.
Relief floods me so fast I laugh—just a small puff of air, a crooked smile pulling at my mouth before I can stop it. I shift on stage, forgetting to pose or smile or do any of the things I’m supposed to do because all I can think is— she came .
Even now, with all these people and that horrified look on her face, she’s the most captivating thing in the room.
But why would she come, if being here clearly makes her want to spontaneously combust?
Maybe she’s just supporting the town. Doing her civic duty. That would be logical.
Or maybe… could she be here to bid on one of the other guys?
I can’t imagine her doing that, but if she did, who would it be? Not Weston. Not Asher. And definitely not Carson, given that she has seen how crazy he is about Bailey.
She’d never do that.
Would she ?
Non. I shut that thought down immediately.
Ashlyn’s voice barrels on. “Yes, ladies, that accent is real—and so is his talent on the ice. On top of that, Clément Rivière is also restoring one of Maple Falls’ most beloved properties, the old MacDonald place.”
Wait—what?
I lower my hand just slightly, blinking toward Ashlyn. “ Pardon ?” I say, loud enough for Ashlyn—and everyone else—to hear. “My historic house belonged to the MacDonalds?”
Ashlyn chuckles, lifting a hand to settle the room. “You want to talk about real estate now, Clément?” Laughter bubbles through the crowd, but Ashlyn plays along. “Yes, folks, our bachelor has questions. That’s how you know he’s not from here.”
I step forward without meaning to, suddenly more invested in the announcement than the event. “What do you know about the house?”
“The MacDonald house belonged to the very family that helped found Maple Falls, way back when the town was still a smudge on the train maps.” She leans in close to me so that her voice doesn’t project over the mic. “Yep, the very family trying to destroy us now.”
My heart knocks harder. I knew it was a great place, but I didn’t realize just how much a part of history it was.
On instinct, I look over the crowd to the place where Marcy sits and mouth, “Do you hear this, Marcy? Isn’t that amazing?” Even though I’m blinded by the lights, I’m sure I see her rub her forehead with a little smile in the corner of her mouth.
Ashlyn turns back to the crowd. “That’s right. Clément is restoring the place to its former glory, ladies! A man who can play goalie, bake soufflés, and is bringing back a bit of Maple Falls history. What more could you want?”
Someone from the crowd yells, “A shirtless portrait!”
“Shall we open the bidding?” Ashlyn calls.
My head jerks toward the crowd again. I’m supposed to be posing, smiling, letting people fight over me. I shove my hands in my pockets and hope that does the job.
“Over here!” someone shouts.
My stomach lurches.
“Me!”
Another voice, this one from the left as she raises her paddle.
And the bidding continues.
Non . Non, non, non.
I shift my weight, scanning the room for a trapdoor I can launch myself through. The spotlight is hot, and the stage suddenly feels ten times smaller.
“The lady in the back!” Ashlyn shouts.
Do they not see I’m not cut out for this?
I glance toward the wings of the stage. Weston is doubled over laughing.
Lucian gives me a double thumbs up like I’ve just won a gold medal in humiliation.
Maybe if I faint— dramatically —they’ll carry me off the stage and we can pretend this never happened.
The bidding continues.
Where’s Marcy? What does she think of this?
“Next bid is the elderly lady on the far left!” Ashlyn claps.
Please, please , someone pull a fire alarm. Or release a goat. I need to stop this madness. NOW.