A familiar feeling of dread sunk heavily in my stomach, and this had nothing to do with the pineapple-sized kid living there. I glanced at Mason, but he refused to look my way. So I turned back to Quinn. "The winner picks you to do what, exactly?"
He shrugged. "I'm not really sure. Serve her all her drinks and pay attention to her and stuff, and stick around her all night. Ten said something about flirting, but . . . " He sent me an uneasy glance.
Spinning to Ten, I set my hands on my hips and glared. "Well, you can count Mason out. He's not selling his body for any reason."
Ten just stared at me. "Jesus, you make it sound like we're going to turn into a bunch of gigolos."
The very word made me bristle. I could only imagine what it did to Mason. But I refused to glance his way, in fear I'd somehow oust him.
"We act attentive, that's all," Ten continued. "We don't have to sleep with the chick, or kiss her, or hell, even touch her. Especially if she's dog ugly." Pointing at me, he turned to Mason. "I thought the dark-haired broad was your girlfriend. Not this one."
"She is," I spoke up, poking Ten in the arm. "But as the dark-haired broad's cousin and best friend, I know exactly what she'd say right now if she were here. And she'd say, no fucking way. Mason's not doing this."
"It doesn't fucking matter what you think, anyway," Ten shot back in the same pointed tone I'd just used. "Because the winner's going to choose me, not him. Pick," he called as Pick emerged from the hall, wearing Mason's shirt, which-sigh-was a little too loose on him. "Make this crazy preggo cool her damn jets, will you?"
"Hey, watch what you call her." Pick moved toward Ten as if he wanted to get into his face and have a serious showdown, but I grabbed his arm.
"Pick," I pleaded. "Please don't make Mason participate in this auction."
He swerved toward me and looked down at my hand on him before lifting his face, his eyes glazed with shock. Then he shook his head. "I . . . It's not up to me, Tink. Our boss made the call."
"Then I want to talk to this asshole boss."
"Eva," Mason hissed, his jaw taut and eyes flaring with anger. "Shut. Up. It's fine."
"No." I hissed right back because he didn't look fine at all. He looked exactly the way I'd felt way too many times in the past. Turning back to Pick, I pleaded with my eyes. "He doesn't want to do it." I made sure my voice was hushed enough that Mason couldn't hear us.
But Pick totally didn't get it. Grinning, he shook his head. "It's all in good fun. There's no harm in it, and it's not like he'll be cheating on your cousin. Hell, I'm married. So it's completely-"
My mouth fell open. "You're married?"
Oh my God. Cut my heart out.
He froze, the guilt on his face thick and obvious. I suddenly felt like throwing up. I'd just flirted with a married man. And why had I not assumed he was married? I'd just learned he had a baby, for God's sake. Daddies did occasionally marry the mothers of their children. Damn, I was such an idiot.
And why did I feel so lost all of the sudden? As if he'd betrayed me.
With a small clearing of his throat, Pick ducked his face and mumbled, "Kind of."
"Kind of?" I arched an eyebrow. "That's like me saying I'm kind of pregnant. You either are or you aren't.'"
"Okay, then." He looked up at me, and I swore I saw grief and apology in his eyes. "Yes, I am, then. I'm . . . married."
Oh, hell. The one guy to ever really affect me, and he was married. I slapped him in the arm. "Why the hell did you let me flirt with you if you're married?"
His mouth opened, but all he said was, "Uh . . . "
I rolled my eyes and sighed. Looking away because it hurt too much to look at him, I saw Mason all upset behind the bar, and I remembered my mission. Turning back to Pick, I whispered, "Please. Don't make him auction himself off. You have no idea what that'll do to him."
Pick glanced at Mason and studied him a moment before shifting closer to me. "Does this have anything to do with that cougar who came in here the other week?"
Wow, he was good. But he'd already proven just how perceptive he was the last time I'd seen him. I gulped and tried not to reveal anything in my expression as I stared at him. But I had a bad feeling I gave the answer away, because Pick nodded as if he suddenly understood. After blowing out a quick breath, he spoke up loud enough for Mason to hear.
"Well, he certainly doesn't have to do it if he doesn't want to. It's not like Jessie will fire him for saying no."
"Really?" Brightening with that possibility, I turned to Mason.
Mason bit his lip, clearly tempted. "You're sure she wouldn't mind?"
Pick just snorted. "She can take it up with me if she does."
Mason nodded. "Then, no, I don't . . . I don't want to participate."
"I don't want to either," Quinn spoke up.
Cursing, Pick closed his eyes briefly before scowling at Quinn. "Jesus, guys. Okay, fine." He blew out a frustrated breath. "Neither of you have to do the actual serving. But this won't work with just Ten and I on the auction block. You'll have to stand up with us throughout the main event and pretend to participate. Then, if someone actually chooses either of you-"
"Which is a total non-issue," Ten called from across the room as he went to unlock the front doors, "because all the ladies are going to choose me."
Pick nodded. "Then we'll just tell the winner you have to work the bar tonight, and she needs to pick someone else."
I blew out a relieved breath. With a quick glance toward Mason, I saw that he had too. Good. There was one issue out of the way. Turning back to Pick, I realized I had one more thing to accomplish tonight.
Reaching out, I grabbed him by the front of his shirt.
Chapter 9
PICK
"We need to talk," she said.
Eva shocked the shit of out me when she grabbed the front of my shirt.
"Um, o . . . kay." I stumbled into step as she strode toward the back hall, dragging me along behind her. Not that I minded following her. I'd follow her anywhere she wanted to lead me, anywhere I could be alone with her. But the way she took charge and yanked me into action was hot.
Anticipation stole up the back of my neck. I knew what it felt like to thrust inside this woman. I knew exactly how she looked when she closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip when she came, how her muscles clenched around my cock and her breasts arched against my chest. Yet I'd never had sex with her, never actually seen her naked, never even kissed her.
My mind knew that, but my body hadn't caught on yet. My senses were thrumming with outright arousal. It was impossible to be this close to her, breathe in her lilac scent, and not remember every fucking detail of those glimpses. She'd been the best lay I'd ever had, and it hadn't even been real.
The first time I'd been with a girl, I'd been expecting that rush, that blinding sensation I'd had when I'd been with Tinker Bell in those visions. But it hadn't come. It never came when I was with someone else. I couldn't count how many times I'd searched for the unexpected bliss of burying myself deep into heaven, only to come up with nothing.
Looking at Eva now, I had to wonder if it'd be that way with her since she was the woman from my glimpses-my soul mate. My dick definitely thought it would be. The thing was hard as a stone.
She stopped abruptly about halfway down the hall and turned to face me. I had to skid to a stop not to bump into her and accidentally stab her with the horny stone. My body heated, igniting this current that made me beyond painfully hard. Thank God, Lowe's T-shirt was baggy and long on me. It helped conceal it.
"Do you want to win this auction thing?" she asked.
I blinked, still trying to get the vision of having sex with her out of my head. "Yeah," I finally answered. "I do."
"Good. I thought so." Opening a huge purse draped over her shoulder, she pulled out an aerosol can of some kind and shook it before spraying some white shit that looked like whipped topping into her palm, which really sent my dirty thoughts spinning, until she said, "Bend down here," and reached for my hair.
Instead of bending down, I took a leery step back. "What the fuck is that?"
"It's mousse, you moron. AKA, hair-styling gel. I'm going to spiff you up so you can look insanely hot instead of just mildly hot. Now bend your head down so I can finesse your hair into place and help you win this auction."
If she'd wanted to wipe dog shit on me just for the hell of it, I probably would've let her. She was Tinker Bell; no way could I deny her anything. So I bent my head.
Wait, had she just called me mildly hot? Double wait-
"Let me get this straight. You just about had a coronary to get Lowe out of this auction, but now you're back here, spiffing me up, so I'll win it?" I wasn't sure if I should be offended or not. Why didn't she have a problem selling me off to some unnamed woman?