Most Valuable Playboy

A high-pitched voice from the middle of the room shouts, “We love you, Coop! Win this weekend.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say with a smile.

“You always do,” Sierra says.

Someone else boos, and I see it’s a guy in the crowd wearing a Jeff Grant jersey. “We want Grant the Greatest back.”

I give a grin, since this is all par for the course. “I bet he’d be hard to talk off his fifty-foot yacht, where he’s enjoying a well-earned retirement.”

“He is indeed,” Sierra says, smoothly steering the event like she has all evening. “So let’s get to know Cooper Armstrong. How does that sound to all of you?”

More cheers than jeers erupt so I take that as my cue to remove the jacket. That earns me some hollers of “nice vest!” I glance to the wings, and Violet gives me a thumbs-up, mouthing vests are hot.

“Cooper is six-four, with light brown eyes and dark brown hair. And, are his cheekbones to die for, or what?” I flash a smile, enjoying her compliments. “In addition to his sixty-three percent pass completion rate so far this season, Cooper can make a mean chicken stir-fry, a fantastic jambalaya, and he’s also been known to wow dinner guests with his penne pasta.” Sierra pauses to wiggle her eyebrows. “There’s just something sexy about a man who can cook, am I right, or am I right?”

“You can cook for me anytime,” a woman shouts.

“I’m quite talented in the kitchen,” I add with a wink.

“A man who can throw like that and cook? I think I might need to toss my hat in the ring.” Sierra throws an imaginary hat, and I decide it’s time to roll up the sleeves. Give ’em forearm to get ’em going. I peel back my cuffs, folding them up, revealing the arms they all like. Why yes, there’s a reason I’ve won the last few years. I play to the crowd. “He also was a superstar in karaoke last year and loves to go on karaoke dates at the local bar.” She brings her hand to her heart. “Cooper, can you sing a little Bon Jovi for us?”

“Why, I never thought you’d ask, Sierra.” I take the mic and give them the first line of the greatest karaoke song ever, about a guy named Tommy who used to work on the docks.

Sierra points the mic toward the audience, and they enthusiastically sing the next line about the union on strike.

I smile, feeling for the first time like I might escape Maxine’s clutches after all. Everything’s going well so far, and the crowd is fantastic. Maybe Maxine was all talk. I don’t even spot her in the sea of people.

“And now, let the bidding begin,” Sierra declares.

Trent blows me an exaggerated kiss from his table. Holly waves, too. She was his high school sweetheart, and now she’s his wife. She cups her hands over her mouth and shouts, “Ten bucks for The Coop.”

Sierra chuckles, then chides them. “Don’t we think he’s worth more than that?”

Trent lifts his index finger. “Fine, we’ll take him home with us for twenty dollars. He can do yard work.”

Sierra gives me a serious look. “What do you think, Cooper? Can we get more than twenty dollars for you?”

I scratch my chin and shrug, giving my best self-deprecating smile. “Hard to say. I did mow lawns in high school, though, so I might have to ask for thirty dollars, just on account of my ability to make the green grass in a garden look so very pretty.”

Sierra wiggles her eyebrows. “And somehow, a man this handsome makes everything sound like innuendo.”

I flash a smile.

“Fifty bucks. But we want a money-back guarantee,” Trent says.

Holly thrusts her hands in the air, shouting, “He’s coming home with us as the new lawn boy.”

Sierra peers at the crowd. “What do you say? Would anyone like to bid on an actual date with this star athlete?”

I shake my head, because hell, I’d love if Trent and Holly won with a fifty-dollar bid. I’d gladly fork over the rest to raise money for the charity.

Then, I hear someone say, “Three thousand dollars.”

My blood goes cold at the husky sound. Maxine has powered her way to the front of the crowd, planting herself in the middle of the action.

Sierra arches a brow. “That’s quite a jump.”

“He’s worth every penny,” Maxine purrs, her voice bursting with determination.

My insides coil tightly.

I can do this. I’m chill. I’m cool. I can fend off Maxine. I’ve done this my whole life—let things roll off me. No father? No problem. No money? Not an issue. No game time? Slap on a happy face and fucking learn everything until it’s your turn.

I can deal with a handsy, horny, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer woman.

Especially since others are getting into the bidding now. A brunette in a crisp gray business suit raises her paddle and offers three thousand two hundred fifty dollars. A lady with blue hair and pearls trumps her by one hundred.

Maxine matches them dollar for dollar. She raises her arm, bidding more and more.

A guy in jeans and a black turtleneck jumps in. He looks vaguely familiar. Maybe he’s a well-known tech entrepreneur. “I’ll take him for three thousand five hundred dollars.”

I’d take him at this point, and I’m not into dudes. But Harlan was chill when a man won him, and I could deal with having dinner with this guy, talk about sports and stats and shit. But Maxine wants more than dinner, and I don’t want to keep turning her down over and over, in case her brother decides he doesn’t like me dissing his sister.

The man keeps vying with her as Sierra plays auctioneer, counting off their bids, while others chime in from time to time like a county fair crowd bidding on my rump roast. The man ups the ante to four thousand, and I bet Jillian is jumping for holiday joy as she adds up the moolah.

The business suit woman raises a hand, offering forty-one hundred.

Maxine’s eyes laser in on me, and she slashes an arm through the air. “Five thousand dollars,” she says, jacking the price up by nine hundred and staking her claim. I shudder inside.

The guy’s eyes widen, and he holds up his hands. “I’m out.”

My stomach plummets when the business suit woman shakes her head.

“Going once?” Sierra asks, scanning the tables, looking for perhaps one last big spender. My eyes scan the crowd, too. Hell, maybe I’ll find an escape hatch. A trapdoor to drop into and disappear like in a magic act. Maybe Trent will learn to read my mind. Trent, I’ll cover you for anything you bid. Just raise that hand, name a price, and save me.

My best friend’s expression is merely curious now as he watches Maxine and Sierra, waiting for the verdict. My opportunity to play yard boy slips through my fingers.

The look in Maxine’s eyes is pure satisfaction as she waits for the final word. She winks at me, as if we have a secret. Holy shit. She thinks I want this. She thinks I want her to win me.

A flash of chestnut brown hair in the back catches my attention. A flurry of silver. It’s Violet, hands in the air, wildly flapping over her head in the middle of the ballroom. She brings her finger to her nose. And she’s tapping it, like fucking Santa Claus coming down the chimney, and Harlan tapping his nose to signal his agent, and all the greatest solutions in the universe at once.

My heart goes crazy.

It hammers in my chest. This is like finding an open receiver a second before you’re sacked.