Page 70 of The Game

Rob waves and smiles at me. He’s looking good in a pin-striped dress shirt and crisply ironed grey pants.

“Save the shenanigans for later. I’m going to call you out to line up for your turn to shine. George, you’re up first. Smooth out that hair.”

He obeys, swiping a hand over his mussed up blond locks.

There’s some sort of argument going on in the next room about which battle bot would win in a fight, but at least it’s not gotten physical, so I move on.

My hockey boys are surprisingly chatting nicely.

A warmth oozes through me like honey when Cole’s dark eyes meet mine. Why do I forget all the reasons I shouldn’t be thinking of him like this whenever he looks at me? It’s like all my common sense and life experience melts away under the heat of that gaze. Remember Darryl, remember that possessiveness the other night. I already know I can’t trust myself to make good decisions about my love life.

“Are we up?” Grant looks at me. “You told your friend not to let anyone buy me except my girlfriend, right? She’ll murder me if someone else snags me, and you don’t want to be responsible for depriving the world of this face, do you?” He bats a set of lashes at me that many a girl would be jealous of.

“Don’t worry, Grant. She’s got your back.”

“Good.” He nods, the wrinkle between his brows smoothing out.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. That’s the two-minute warning. “Ok Grant, you’re first up from the hockey team. Time to empty your girlfriend’s purse. There are three guysahead of you, but I’m going to get you lined up and ready to go when your names are called. Follow me.”

The guys are shuffling around like a group of kindergartners waiting for the bell to ring, with Rob at the front of the line.

“You’re up. Knock ‘em dead.” I pat Rob’s shoulder as he heads out. He ignores the stairs, leaping onto the stage in a move that would definitely land me on my ass, suffering from a wardrobe malfunction if I tried it. His smooth bow has the crowd cheering, and the bidding commences.

Grant’s girl wins him, and he jumps off the front of the stage to give her a huge kiss, lifting her off her feet to spin her around. The crowd loves that, and I’m pretty impressed myself. Definitely worthy of one of Jordan’s book boyfriends. I search the crowd, spotting her crimson waves off to the side. She couldn’t make it out earlier in the day, but she came to meet her author friend and make sure everything went smoothly with her set up.

Hail is in his element when his turn rolls around. He’s the only one who showed up in his jersey, and I’m pretty sure one of the girls in the front row almost fainted when he flexed.

Every few minutes I’m back getting another couple of guys lined up when I glance down at my list, realizing I’ve reached the last three guys. Dev, Cole, and Beau.

“Can you try to smile when you get up there?” I ask Dev before I send him off.

“Not part of the deal,” he grumbles. To be honest, I’m impressed I got him here at all, so I guess I’ll take it. Some girls love the brooding athlete,right?

He stands there, tatted arms crossed over his muscular chest, brows drawn together, and he still goes for a price that I wouldn’t be able to afford.

“Cole.” I grab his arm. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to afford you.”

“I won’t go for that much. It’ll be fine.”

“But what if I can’t?”

An uncertain look crosses his face. “It’ll be fine. I think.”

He bends down toward me, reaching a hand up to hover over my cheek, and the heat emanating from his skin soaks into me.

“Cole Schaeffer!”

Amira shouts his name into the mic, and enthusiastic clapping starts up.

“Cole is the right winger for our very own Lightning. They took the championship home last year, and you’ve only got two more shots at picking up your own trophy tonight. Can we start the bidding at ten dollars?”

I turn to Beau. “You good if I go out there?”

He nods, brushing a hand down his pristine white shirt. He’s one of the few who went for a collared dress shirt, but it suits him.

“Thirty dollars? Do I have thirty?”

I raise my hand, sneaking in at the side of the crowd hanging around the front of the stage.

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