Page 81 of The Holiday Clause
“Jocelyn?”
“Yeah. She raved about me finally doing my civic duty. I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about until she showed me the signup sheet for her event tonight. Logan put my name on that damn list. I know it was him.”
Wren exhaled her concern with an eye roll. Why was this her problem? “If you don’t want to do it, Soren, just tell her you had a change of heart.”
“Have you met Jocelyn? She’s a lunatic. I tried getting out of it, but she threatened to tell everyone we slept together and that she broke it off because I wasn’t ergonomically satisfying in the pants department—that’s total bullshit, by the way. I’m above average and surprisingly impressive. Once, I even made a woman speak in tongues.”
“I don’t need to hear that.”
“I’m just trying to protect my reputation. I can’t have some Viking porn author making up stories about me and my man parts.”
She laughed. “Just play along with the auction, Soren. It’s for charity.”
“No. I can’t. The chick with the blue hair from the sex toy shop turned up too. Those two should never be able to team up. She said she’d back Jocelyn’s made-up story if I didn’t show up.”
“Then you better go.”
“I’m seriously going to murder Logan the next time I see him.”
“What’s the big deal, Soren? You could actually meet someone?—“
“Uh-uh. No way. You have to help me.”
Someone hollered in the background, and Wren frowned. “Where are you now?”
“I’m at Hook, Wine & Sinker. The auction starts in thirty minutes. And Wren... these aren’t regular women. They’re all boozed up and catcalling like this is some sort of construction site. I’ve never felt so objectified. They’re looking at me like a prime cut of beef. I’m scared.” His voice cracked.
Wren could hear the volume of the bar in the background. It sounded way too wild for the typically swanky vibe of therestaurant. “It’s for a good cause, Soren. Jocelyn’s trying to build a new wing on the library. You like books.”
“Not the sort these women like. The last thing Hideaway Harbor needs is more women like Jocelyn. They’re feral! One tried to take my shirt off and lube me up with some strawberry-scented shit.”
Wren laughed. “Come on, Soren, be a good sport.”
“They won’t let me leave! I’ve tried several times. Apparently, I’m prime pickings. You have to come save me.”
“How am I supposed to do that? There’s no reasoning with Jocelyn once her mind’s made up.”
“Then you have to come bid on me. I can’t go home with these women. I’m already feeling objectified. I’m a piece of meat here!”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. That doesn’t seem like a sensible investment. The holidays are coming, and I’ve been saving up for some new yoga equipment?—“
“Wren!” he snapped, voice back to shrill. “Do not let me get sold off to these jackals. They’ll rip me apart like the last big ticket item at a Black Friday sale. I’m not charming enough to survive this.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m really not. Please, come rescue me.”
She sighed. “Fine. I’ll be there soon.”
“Hurry!”
She ended the call and laughed. He was definitely going to kill Logan.
Hook, Wine & Sinker was one of Hideaway Harbor’s most upscale bars, where leather and mahogany usually whispered sophistication under dark wood beams and candlelit tables. But that hushed, romantic atmosphere was not what Wren walked into.
The deep emerald velvet booths overflowed with well-hydrated women whose laughter bubbled like champagne. The air fizzed with anticipation, and they hooted and cheered whenever a bachelor walked by. It was as rowdy as the New York City trading floor five minutes before closing.
“What the...”
