I couldn’t look away as Maverick warred with another bidder for my apple pie. Some invisible force squeezed my heart, making it difficult for me to breathe.

“I have three-fifty. Do I have three-seventy-five?” the auctioneer chanted.

“Four hundred,” said the other bidder.

Maverick sat so calmly as if half the crowd wasn’t staring at him, waiting to find out if he was going to bid again. He took his time and my stomach did this funny flip thing as I considered that he might bow out. At least he had gotten it to four hundred dollars—that was an awful lot. My lip began to hurt from where I kept worrying it with my teeth and it felt like eternity before he spoke.

“Five-hundred dollars,” Maverick said in his calm, tender voice.

Collective gasps spread through the crowd and I fought the urge to jump from my seat and launch myself into his lap. I broke the record! He broke the record for me!

“I’ve been the auctioneer for this event for three years and I am happy to inform you ladies and gentlemen that Grace Patterson just stole the record from Irna Reynolds for bringing in the highest bid on a pie. I have five hundred. Do I hear five-twenty?”

The auctioneer waited for the second bidder to make a decision. When he nodded his head, the auctioneer went back to Maverick.

“Do you want to do five-forty, son?”

“I’ll go six,” he vowed.

My heart burst and I couldn’t help the smile I gave him, the happy watering of my eyes. This was incredible.

“Last chance, anyone? Anyone want to bid over six? Alright. Going once, going twice, sold to bidder number 356. Folks, congratulate Ms. Patterson as she now holds Lone Star’s highest bid. Let’s finish these last few pies and see if we can set another record. Who’s ready to beat that last bid for a choke-cherry pie? I’ll start at twenty. Do I have twenty?”

The auctioneer went on and I tuned him out as I watched Maverick. I couldn’t believe he bid that much money for an apple pie that I would have happily made him any time. He did this for me, not because he wanted to taste the pie. He did it out of kindness and the gesture cemented my feelings about him, all over again.

The rest of the bidding couldn’t have gone by any slower. Once it was finally over and it was safe to announce that I had officially beat Mrs. Reynolds record, I was in a race to find Maverick but everyone stopped me, offering me congratulations as I weaved my way through the crowd.

The ladies covered up the pies and took them to the check-out table. That was where I found him handing over six, one-hundred dollar bills to Mrs. Reynolds. Even from where I stood, I could tell she was fawning all over him. The big smile plastered on his face told me he was enjoying it too.

“You have to fill in here, where you want the proceeds to go.”

“I’d like to donate it all to Toys for Tots,” Maverick said. He said it so surely, I questioned if he was intimately familiar with the organization already. He had to be somewhat for even suggesting the charity.

Standing behind him, unsure if he was aware of my presence, I gripped his forearm, gaining his attention.

“Thank you for bidding,” I said excitedly.

He gave a genuine, heart-stopping smile. “You are welcome. The money is going to a good organization.”

“You could have bid on anyone’s pies, but you chose mine, setting me way past Mrs. Reynolds. Thank you for doing that.”

“It meant so much to you, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to help out. Besides, it wouldn’t have been possible if I didn’t have another bidder.”

“Has anyone ever taught you how to take a compliment? You just smile and say thank you.”

He gave me a cheeky grin, “Thank you.”

“Have you always donated to Toys for Tots?” I asked curiously. We made our way through the crowd as we talked and found ourselves at the food station. He paid for two before answering.

“Not always. I started when I realized I had the extra money. A paying back of sorts.”

“From when you were younger?” I asked.

“Yeah. There were plenty of times I got Christmas presents from Toys for Tots.”

I knew he wasn’t telling me this to gain my sympathy, but I felt terrible nonetheless. As much as I thought my parents were messed up, there was never a Christmas that Thatcher and I didn’t want for nothing.

There were a few children in my class that I knew would benefit from donations like Maverick’s and other people’s all over the country. As much as he wanted to resist it, I was finding him to have more feelings than he wanted anyone to believe.

“Thank you for buying my lunch,” I said.

“Anytime,” he said. Our gazes locked on one another’s above the potato salad and held, amid the noise of Luther’s American Band playing “The Liberty Song.”

His eyes brimmed with tenderness and passion and I got the feeling that this was a monumental moment for us as we hashed out how we were going to proceed with one another.