Page 2 of Cookies and Control

“I’d do it. Would you, Betsy?” Jasmine won’t let it go.

A chance for dream sex… This one’s pretty easy for me, but Sabrina has a hard time doing anything spur of the moment.Maybe I can play to her methodical, organization-loving side. Besides, it’s all for fun at this point. No one has offered us a chance to go on stage. “The show must go on. Think of all of the veterans who will benefit from tonight’s donations.”

“Doesn’t have to be tonight.” Sabrina stands her ground.

Jasmine walks her fingers over Sabrina’s shoulder. Her smile is wide. Her eyes are bright. This look is all too familiar. It means Jasmine has an idea she’s ready to fight for.

“I already said no,” Sabrina defends.

I’m torn between telling Jasmine to back off and the wild possibility that my two best friends and I could all lose our virginity in a grand way this evening.

Jasmine continues, “But Sabrina… you know how hard it is to organize events, coordinate schedules, get all of the lists realigned when something goes wrong. If anyone should understand the importance of saving the event, it’s you.”

“The veterans…” I say, feeling kind of guilty for adding pressure.

“Will get a hearty donation. There’s still time for the ladies to arrive.” Sabrina clings to logic.

Jasmine scrutinizes the drinks and snacks on the tray, then rearranges them. “We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m going to start enticing the guys I hope will bid on me.”

I play along. “I hope the owner will let us do it.”

“Don’t hope for that. Hope that the scheduled virgins get here safe and sound,” Sabrina pleads.

“That too.” Jasmine winks. “Now excuse me while I get more alcohol in these guys to loosen their wallets.”

“For the veterans,” I add to bring a little levity.

As more minutes tick past, making it less and less likely the women are going to show up, I study Jasmine’s approach to the men. Can some of her boldness rub off on me by mere observation? She paves her own way at everything and justconvinced a table of three guys to bid on her if she gets on stage. Basically, she says what she wants. How much easier can it be?

With all of the ideas I get from romance novels, this should be—I fumble my tray. My heart stops. I blink several times while remotely aware that someone helped keep my full tray from crashing to the ground.

But my eyes are glued to the men across the room who serve as my guilty pleasure in every single fantasy. My stepdad and his brother.

“Thank you,” I try to say, but merely mumble to the kind stranger who makes sure I’m steady before walking away.

I should feel guilty for thinking of my stepdad the way I do, but he relied on nannies to finish raising me after my mom passed away when I was fifteen. They were a bit unnecessary and basically amounted to monitoring me.

And while it’s true, he’s legally my dad because he adopted me, I never made the mental transition.

Call me a dreamer, but I imagine our future lives as more than a parent-child relationship. And with his brother too, because… why not? They’re sinfully handsome billionaires who melt my panties. And the versions of them in my head are not nearly as problematic.

But dammit—they came to the auction, which leaves me slightly devastated. Not like they would buy me. I’m not insanely gorgeous like everyone in their family.

Bull, my stepdad, treats me like an ogre to be locked away, to this day insisting I live at home, not that all nineteen-year-olds are ready to live on their own.

Grandma’s constantly noting how many ways the beauty salon can help me out: hair, nails, waxing, botox…

And Rocky could be a cool uncle if he didn’t keep his distance—confirming that I don’t fit in their family.

The PA system crackles to life. Lazovski, the owner, is on stage. “Attention, everyone. I’ve just received word that the auctionees’ car slid off the road in the snowstorm. Thankfully they’re unharmed. Just going to be a little late. Please be patient.”

I want to jump and squeal, but getting overly excited and dropping my full tray would be frowned upon. Plus, it’s messed up that I would be glad for someone else’s misfortune.

And with my family setting my insecurities in full swing, even if Jasmine convinces Lazovski to put us on stage, it’s possible no one would bid on me.

The air in the club vibrates with excited energy while I vibrate with nervous energy. Would I actually auction myself? To raise money for the veterans? To play with fate? To risk being the virgin who breaks the auction’s perfect track record?

All in front of my stepdad and stepuncle?

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