Be My Hero (Forbidden Men #3)(40)

I turned curiously to the tall guy who reminded me of a teddy bear. Huge and bulky, but too cuddly to hurt a fly. Hmm, maybe he was more like Baby Daddy's Danny. "What auction?"

"It's nothing." Mason's bark told me the opposite.

"Dude, it is so not nothing." Ten slipped back onto the stool next to me as if I hadn't just shoved him off it five minutes ago. "Auction night is a guaranteed money-maker . . . that is, if the winner chooses you. And I'm getting f*cking chosen tonight. There's no Gamble around to cock-block me."

"Wait. I'm confused." I turned to Quinn, since I had a feeling Mason would only bite my head off again if I asked him, and I really didn't feel like talking to Mr. Milk Tits. "What happens on auction night?"

"We get auctioned off," Quinn explained quietly, the look in his eyes telling me he did not look forward to that. "At least, one of us does. Whoever wins gets to pick whichever one of us she wants."

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 f*cking way. Mason's not doing this."

"It doesn't f*cking 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 * 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.