"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?
But then she sank her fingers into my hair, and fuck . . . nothing was going to offend me for a good long while. Jesus, she had nice fingers. They felt so damn fine on me. Her nails occasionally scraped my scalp, and each time they did, every nerve ending in my body had a mini-orgasm. My heartbeat pulsed through my throbbing erection until I had to concentrate not to roll my hips with her fingers as she tugged on my hair with these rhythmic pulls, making sure she lathered that foam shit on every lock. And oh . . . holy baby Jesus, it felt good. So. Damn. Good.
Then she spoke, and the tone of her voice was like drizzling chocolate over an already perfect dessert. "You actually want to win," she said, "and he didn't even want to participate, so . . . yes. That's it exactly."
What had she said? I think I was little too busy trying not to come in my damn pants. Christ. She could spiff me up every day of the week. I reached out my hand and pressed it against the wall to support myself because all the blood was rushing to my dick and making me dizzy.
"Okay. Look up." Her voice grew huskier.
I lifted my face, sucking in a stuttered breath when our gazes met. Her pupils looked dilated and full of some of the same heat I was feeling. My nostrils flared, aching to draw in her lilac scent, but all I could smell was that fucking mousse.
"You, uh . . . " She cleared her throat and tore her gaze away from mine to focus on whatever she was doing to my hair. Her fingers slowed as if she wanted to draw out our time together. God love her, the dirty tease. "There was actually something else I wanted to discuss with you."
Still refusing to look me in the eye, she sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth, just as she had when I'd been inside her. It was hotter than hot.
"'Kay," I slurred. "Shoot."
"Right." She nodded. "So, the last time we talked, I know you came up with this crazy assumption about me that . . . well . . . " She removed her fingers from my scalp and looked up, searing me with the very blue eyes I dreamed about nightly. "You were wrong, okay? Whatever you thought . . . It was just . . . It's not true. That . . . that never happened. Not to me." She gave me an encouraging, yet tense smile. "Okay?"
I watched her throat work as she swallowed. My gaze fell to her hands; she was wringing them unconsciously at her waist. Lifting my eyes again, I took in the determination and desperation in her expression and nodded slowly. "Okay," I said, giving a little shrug as if it were no big deal.
"Okay," she repeated with a forceful nod, before a scowl line deepened between her eyes. "Wait. I just stressed over this for two freaking weeks, unable to stop worrying about what you thought of me and who you were going to blab to. And all you have to say is okay?" She set her hands on her hips and scowled.
Her miffed temper was so adorable it made me smile. It reminded me of the Tinker Bell I'd built her up in my mind to be, a sassy soul mate who'd argue with me even when I was trying to be completely compliant.
Fuck, maybe she wasn't exactly as she'd advertised herself to be on her Facebook page. Maybe she wasn't quite the rich, entitled spoiled princess I'd convinced myself she was. Which was bad. Thinking she was more like what I'd envisioned instead of what I'd feared, made my heart think I could actually reach her and have her.
But I couldn't.
With my hand still braced against the wall, I leaned in to her, hovering above her. "What do you want me to say, Tink? That I know you're lying? That I know it really did happen, and that the very thought of it rips me in fucking half? That I want to find the monster or monsters that hurt you and destroy them with my bare hands? Is that what you'd prefer?"
Her eyes widened and her breath puffed from her parted lips. "I . . . " She shook her head. "Actually, no. You're right. 'Okay' was a good answer, after all."
"Yeah. It sure as hell was." Then I grinned, loving that I could finally smell her lilac scent again. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll keep your secret. If you promise me one thing in return."
/> She jerked backward away from me, glowering. "I don't make deals."
"Relax." With a low chuckle, I caught a piece of her hair between my fingers and nearly whimpered when I felt how soft it was. It was exactly as I remembered in my visions. "I just want you to tell me you're no longer in danger. If I know he can't get to you anymore, I'll leave it alone and pretend like I'm a clueless dumbass. Okay?"
The vulnerability in her expression made every protective instinct in me kick into gear. I just wanted to scoop her up and carry her away somewhere safe, where no one could ever bother her again.
"I'm no longer in danger," she dutifully assured me, even as her eyes flared with shock, as if she couldn't believe she'd just let me know I hadn't been wrong after all.
I closed my eyes briefly, because I'd still been clinging to the hope that I might've been wrong. But now that she'd confirmed it, grief gripped my throat, making my words gritty when I said, "Good." Leaning down, I pressed my lips to her forehead. "Thank God."
She scurried away from me with a gasp. "You shouldn't do that."
I blinked, bewildered. "Do what?"
"Kiss me!"
Blurting out a laugh, I caught her hand and tugged her closer. I didn't like her being more than five feet away. "Pressing my mouth to your forehead isn't—" But my words stalled on my tongue when she looked up at me. Her blue eyes were big and wide, full of heat and fear. I swallowed. "Well it wasn't supposed to be anything. Just . . . you know . . . friendly affection."
God, that sounded lame.
But she nodded as if desperate to buy that. "Good, then." She wiggled her fingers out of mine and began to stroke them with her other hand as if my touch had seared her. "I wouldn't want your wife coming after me with a sawed-off shotgun or anything."
Took me a second to remember who she was talking about. It was still ingrained in my head that she was the only woman I'd ever marry. For a moment, I entertained a ridiculous image of her chasing herself around with a gun. It was an animated vision, like something straight off Looney Tunes.
I started to smile until I remembered reality. If she was referring to Tris, Tristy wouldn't care if I went home with a dozen girls every night. But I liked having this barrier between us. I didn't want Tink to know what a sham my 'marriage' was. Because for her, I had a bad feeling I'd want to dissolve all my vows and get an annulment or some shit, which I definitely couldn't do. Not if I wanted to keep Julian safe.
"I guess I'll be keeping my mouth off your head, then."
Eva nodded. "Good."
When she turned away and strolled off, I stared after her and gritted my teeth when I took in her ass. Shit, I almost wished pregnancy had done to her backside what it'd done to Tristy's—making it twice as wide—because her taut cheeks looked too good to resist.
She glanced back. "Are you checking out my ass?"
I snorted and shook my head, but confessed, "Of course. And I'm completely confused. Isn't having a kid supposed to make your butt big?" I motioned my finger toward her. "Not deliciously juicy like that?"
"Trust me, honey." She winked as she smacked a hand on her ass. "This is huge compared to what it used to look like."
"Dear God in Heaven." I whimpered to myself as she turned away again. A person wouldn't be able to tell she was carrying a kid at all, because from the back, she was curved to perfection. When she put an extra, cocky sway to her hips, most likely knowing I was still gawking, I grinned.
Shit. I think I liked her. Along with her killer body, she had sass and spunk, along with some softness, and a big ol' heart ready to care for people. I grinned, remembering how she'd tried to manually help Lowe drink his water the other week. I had a feeling she didn't even realize how truly compassionate she was.
Popping into the bathroom before I returned to the bar, I checked out what she'd done to my hair. I laughed aloud when I saw that she'd given me a stubby Mohawk.
"Damn," I murmured, carefully touching the gelled spikes. I liked it.
***
"What the fuck!" Ten hissed as soon as I strode into the bar again. "If you think that hair is going to help you win the auction—"
"It is." I patted his shoulder with a placating smile. "Sorry, sucka, but you're going down tonight."
"Fucker." He scowled after me as I strolled away to check on a table full of ladies who looked like they had deep pockets and could afford to win.
Time to start promoting myself.
But I caught sight of Eva at the bar, perched on her stool as she demolished a bowl of nuts. It was strange enough for a pregnant woman to enter a bar when it was closed, but for her to stick around after it opened . . . that did not make me comfortable. If anyone harassed her, I'd be forced to kill them.
Weaving my way to her, I replenished her stock of nuts and rested my elbows on the bar top to watch her gnaw on her bottom lip as she stared at the second bowlful, silently debating with herself if she should eat more or not.
"If you're still worried I'll let any woman buy Lowe, I promise you I won't."
She gave in and scooped up another handful before answering me with a perky smile. "Oh, I'm not worried about that at all. I have no doubt you're good for your word."
I swelled with pride. I was a complete stranger who'd majorly unsettled her peace of mind the first time we'd met. Yet here she was, claiming to trust my word.
That didn't explain why she was still here, though. "So, you're sticking around because . . . ?" I lifted my eyebrows. "You want to see who ends up buying me?" I gave a sudden, naughty grin. "You jealous, Tinker Bell?"
She rolled her eyes. "Cute. But, no. I'm waiting for my ride. Reese should be back to pick me up in a few minutes."
Shit. She was stuck here. I loved that because it meant I got to bask in her presence longer. And yet I hated it because my nerves were going ape-shit, knowing there'd be no way to keep a constant eye on her in this crowd.
"You know, if you get uncomfortable out here, I can show you a room in the back you can chill in until she shows up."
She laughed. "Trust me, I'm pretty comfortable with the whole bar scene."
"Yeah, but—" When my gaze fell to her stomach, she held up a finger and shot me a look that told me not to even go there.
"If you say anything like in your condition, I'm liable to turn into Eva the super bitch and go off on you again."
I grinned. "Duly noted. But seriously, I don't like this. At all." My palm drifted over her belly before falling away. She jumped at the brief contact. "If someone messes with this precious bundle, I'm going to lose my shit."
Her eyes lit and she drew out the word, "Oooh. So that's what it's about?"
I blinked. "What?"
"Your overprotectiveness." She twirled out her finger. "I was confused why you were so nice, yet controlling, that first night we met. But now that I know you're a daddy . . . " She shrugged. "It makes more sense."
I pulled back, confused. "What makes you think I'm a daddy?"
"Because . . . " She popped more nuts into her mouth and chewed. "Reese said so. Mason told her you needed a new shirt because your baby had thrown up on the other one."
With a nod, I shifted a step back, reminding myself why I needed to keep my distance from her. Julian needed me. And to keep Julian in my life, I needed to keep Tristy in it. And I couldn't exactly be a good, faithful husband to Tristy if I was here drooling over Eva, the one woman who could make me do anything.
I blew out a breath, not caring for that little reality check.
"Want to see a picture?" I asked, forcing a smile and thinking that seeing a picture of Julian might help cement my faithfulness into my own head.
"Of your baby?" Her face brightened. "Sure."
I pulled out my phone and typed in my password to get into my apps.
Leaning in to watch, Eva gasped and covered her mouth as she zipped her eyes up to mine.
"What?" I asked, dropping the phone to my side. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
When I reache
d for her stomach, worried about the baby, she shook her head and slapped my hand away, but continued to stare at me as if I'd lost my mind. Then she motioned toward my phone. "I just . . . you . . . your passcode. One-one-two-zero."
I nodded and shrugged as if it were no big deal. "Yeah. What about it?" But my eyes were intent on her as I held my breath, anxiously waiting to learn why that number was important to her. Because it was sure as hell important to me.
"Nothing," she tried to say, but I knew—
"Oh, no." I rolled out my hand, coaxing her to keep talking. "It's definitely something. Now spill it."
Her face flushed as she motioned to the phone. "It's a date, right? November twentieth?"
My stomach clenched as I nodded. But, shit, if the same thing had happened to her on the same day that it happened to me, I was going to freak.
"Is it your birthday?" she hedged. When I shook my head, she guessed, "Your baby's birthday? Your wife's."
I laughed. "No. It's no one's birthday. It's just . . . a special date."
The day I'd met her, had sex with her, fallen in love with her, and pretty much became utterly and completely obsessed with her . . . or rather, the day I'd had my glimpses and learned she existed.
"Your wedding day?" she started in with more guesses, not letting up.
Since there was no way I was going to tell her why November twentieth was special to me, I asked, "Why do you care? What's that date mean to you?"
She hesitated before meeting my gaze. "It's my birthday."
I gulped. Shit.
What were the odds I'd be shown a vision of her ten years ago on her birthday?
A strange cold prickle rose up the back of my neck. Fucking voodoo shit. This was beginning to creep me out. When I shifted away from her, her eyes widened.
"What? What's it mean to you?" she asked.
"Not telling," I said and quickly re-entered the passcode because my phone's screen had gone dead again. She huffed in irritation, but I distracted her as quickly as I could by pulling up Fighter's mug shot and spinning my phone around for her to see him.