The Bachelor Auction(79)
Even if they were painful.
And in all her stress and sadness—she’d forgotten something important—something that even if Brock rejected her and never saw her again—she wanted to do.
She grabbed the present and ran down the stairs just as a knock sounded. Throwing the door open to a bored-looking Bentley, Jane grabbed a fistful of his shirt and jerked him into the house. “I want his address. Now.”
“I don’t really think—”
“Now!”
“It’s six a.m.!” Bentley yawned. “Six! In the morning!”
“I heard you the first time. Address! Please? It’s important!”
“What’s that?” He pointed at the object in her hands.
“Something for Brock.”
Bentley’s eyes narrowed and then a mocking look crossed his face. “Wow, that’s…romantic?”
“Shut up.”
He smirked. “Fine, I’ll give you the address if you promise to be on your best behavior tonight.”
She scowled.
“No hitting on me, grabbing my ass, flirting, or falling in love. I’m well aware that these past two days have been the best of your life but—”
“Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and stop you right there.”
“Sometimes love can’t be helped, or explained.” He winked. “Okay, fine, you’re immune to my charm. Damn aggravating—not that I’d want to steal you out from underneath one of my favorite brothers—but like I said, some things can’t be helped and I’m competitive by nature.”
“Are you done yet?”
“No.” He smiled. “Okay, fine, be ready by six and remember to just….go with it.”
“Go with what?”
“It,” he said slowly. “Go with it.”
“What exactly is ‘it’?”
“You’ll see when it or she presents itself. Okay, now I’ve confused myself. Hand over that weird-looking shirt fluffy thing and I’ll make sure it gets to Brock. I’m not entirely sure I can trust you with that address yet; besides, it’s for the best.”
Well, it wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but it would work. “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek.
He touched the spot she’d kissed and shrugged. “See? You’re in love with me, can’t be helped.”
“Go away, Bentley.”
He tilted her chin toward him. “Give them hell tonight, Jane. And remember, trust him.”
And with that he was gone.
Chapter Forty-One
Brock woke up to the piercing sound of a rooster. The cock was even invading his dreams now.
Fantastic.
“Wake up!” A pillow slammed across his face.
Twice.
On the third swing, he grabbed it and the person attached to it, shoving them off the bed and onto the floor.
Brant let out a curse. “See if I ever make you coffee again.”
“You made coffee? Do you even know how?”
“It was touch and go for a few seconds before I finally just walked to Starbucks.” He shrugged. “But it’s basically the same thing.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Thank you.” Brant seemed genuinely touched by the insult.
Brock rolled his eyes. “Someone better be dying and why the hell did I hear a rooster?”
Brant held up his phone. “Farm animal app. I’m thinking of buying the company.”
“Please don’t,” Brock grumbled as he got to his feet.
They walked into the kitchen where Bentley was reading the paper.
“Why are you guys always at my house?” Brock snatched a piece of fruit as Bentley slid him his coffee. “Seriously, are you that lonely?”
“Yes,” Bentley said without looking up from the paper. “That’s why we bother you, because we’re lonely.” He smirked. “It’s more like…” After a long drawn-out sigh, he held out his hands. “We made the mistake of bringing some girls home and…” He flipped his hand into the air. “We may have swapped girls in the middle of the night.”
“Oldest trick in the book,” Brant snorted.
“Right,” Bentley agreed. “But somehow they found out and once we asked them to leave…all hell broke loose. One of them started smashing wine bottles on the floor then chucked one at my head.”
Brant bit out a curse while Bentley kept on talking. “We finally got them to leave, but one of them came back and our doorman let her up, the bastard. She spray-painted WHORE in bright red graffiti across our doors.”
Brock let out a low laugh. “Oh, that’s fantastic. So your apartments are shame prisons?”
“Basically.” Bentley didn’t look apologetic. “So we’re going to hang with you until things die down. I mean, they’ll get over it; they always do.”