30. Pink

Pink

“ Y ’all, they’re sizing us up like a prized heifer.”

I held back a laugh and straightened my hat. “Just keep smiling, dude. It’s for a good cause.”

Matty wasn’t wrong. Seven of us had turned out for tonight’s bachelor auction event in our game day best. After some brief mingling with the dinner patrons—ranging from local business owners to festival volunteers and even some of the Roasters’ staff—we had been lined up across the makeshift stage like the piggies gone to market.

There were certain societal expectations that came with being a public figure, and that included engaging with fans. Radio interviews and autographs were part of the job, but being auctioned off to a trio of grannies was something else entirely.

“You guaranteed me man meat,” Diaz grumbled.

“And you’re going to get it, I promise.”

He mumbled a few choice words under his breath. My tenth-grade Spanish was rusty at best, but I knew an expletive when I heard one.

“I don’t know,” Bennett said, his voice etched with unease. “What if nobody bids on me? I don’t want to be the guy that doesn’t get bid on.”

Poor guy. Bennett had generalized anxiety disorder, but he was also a closeted romantic. As much as he might have wanted to spend a quiet evening at home, his desire to be loved far outweighed his nerves.

“Benny Boo.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I would bid on you myself before that happened.”

He shook off my hand. “I don’t need your pity bids.”

Kaylani stepped up to the mic at the front of stage. “Hello, everybody,” she said around a smile. “Thank you all for joining us tonight for the first ever Buns of Steel auction, featuring your American League champions, the Rose City Roasters.”

I rocked forward on my toes when the crowd went wild. Their screams were music to my ears. We were still riding the high from yesterday’s win, the one that had ensured our spot in the World Series.

The fucking World Series. Take that, Dad.

“I know we’re all excited to cheer them on at next week’s game, and remember, everyone who wins a date with a player this evening will also take home two tickets for game one of the World Series.”

A sharp whistle rang out over the applause. My eyes followed the sound to the left side of the room, just as Dani removed two fingers from her lips. It was incredible how such a tiny person could emit such a piercing noise.

Bella and Nessa stood next to her, both smiling from ear to ear.

I was a lucky bastard in more ways than one. Just as Nessa suggested, Bella had settled into the townhouse next door to mine. It wasn’t much just yet, but she had a roof over her head and a solid support system next door, and that was more than most people could ask for in a lifetime.

Matty had offered to help with the renovations once the season was over, after we fixed up his house that was. It was shaping up to be a busy offseason, and I was looking forward to every second of it.

“Who’s ready to bid on a baller?” Kaylani asked with the intonation of a game show host.

Soren groaned. “Lord, here we go.”

“I don’t want to hear either of y’all complaining,” Matty said, pointing toward Soren and me. “You have somebody you love to go home to tonight, no matter what.”

“Dude, you sound just like Clarke. Her accent comes out twice as thick when she’s pissed.”

Matty was right for the second time tonight because I was indeed going home with the person I loved. I was head over heels in love with Nessa Gibbs, and I didn’t care who knew . . . so long as she did first.

Neither of us had used those three not-so-little words just yet, but as far as I was concerned, there was no rush. We were taking things at our pace, nobody else’s. It was no skin off my back if she needed a little more time to wrap her head around the fact that she was it for me. I wasn’t going anywhere.

“First up, Cy Young nominee and your starting pitcher. Give it up for Jared Pink.”

I rubbed my hands together. “Time to shine, boys.”

Tonight’s event was for charity, for hungry kids. If making an ass of myself was going to put food into the mouths of children, then that was what I was going to do.

Ginuwine’s “Pony” came on over the speakers, eliciting a cheer from the crowd of mostly women, though Brock Heller had been lurking by the bar last I’d checked. For the next three-and-a-half minutes, I stripped, gyrated, and twerked across the stage in ways that would give Channing Tatum a run for his money. At least, that was what Nessa had told me when I’d rehearsed my “routine” for her the night prior until she’d broken down in a squealing fit of laughter.

People from around the room shouted their bids, including Nessa, who was spending money she didn’t have. She didn’t need to buy my attention; she already had it. Her gaze never wavered from mine throughout my dance. In the end, though, it was Myron and Miles who cast the winning bid of twelve hundred dollars.

When Kaylani finally banged her gavel, I gathered my discarded shirt and blazer off the stage and quickly redressed.

“Top that, fuckers,” I spat over my shoulder at my teammates. I could only hope that at least one person—preferably Brock—had caught it on camera when all six of them flipped me the bird.

It didn’t take me long to find Myron and Miles, my dates for the rest of the evening.

“Evening, gentleman,” I said, swinging my blazer over my shoulder. “Thank you for your contribution.”

“Oh, please,” Miles said. “The pleasure is all ours. Right, Ronny?”

Myron smiled, appeasing his husband. “Right, cookie.”

They were a cute couple. We had spoken a few times before, mostly about Miles’s lavender plants, so I was looking forward to their company for dinner.

“Do you mind if I say hello to my girl?”

“Make it quick,” Miles teased. “You’re ours for the rest of the night.”

Damn, if he was forty years younger.

“Two minutes, I promise.”

I darted across the room and swept Nessa up into a needy kiss. She barely missed a beat, threading her fingers through the hair at the back of my neck, holding on while I plundered her mouth.

There was no disguising the hunger in her eyes when I pulled away. Dinner didn’t start for another thirty minutes—that left plenty of time to sneak away for a nibble of our own, so long as my dinner dates allowed it.

“Mm,” she said, licking her lips. “You took my advice on the raspberry lip balm, I see.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So long as you keep those lips to yourself.” Her hands slipped down to cup my ass, making me jump. Nessa loved my ass, and she wasn’t shy about showing it. “I’m serious. Tell Miles and Myron that you’re off-limits.”

“Damn, angel.”

“What?”

“I kind of like it when you’re all possessive.”

Her brows quirked up. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, it feels good being claimed.”

Her smile nearly reached her eyes.

In between the festival and playoffs, the two of us had spent the bulk of our time learning each other’s bodies, playing out our wants and fantasies. Like my praise kink—just last night, she had lauded me with compliments while riding my face to orgasm—and her interest in rope play—I had already booked us a private shibari class for her birthday in December.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Dani said. “I already have to hear this shit through the wall every night.”

Nero nodded. “Tell me about it.”

Nessa giggled and tucked herself under my arm. “Maybe you should get out more. You know, make new friends. Or maybe—” She nodded across the room. “Hang out with old ones.”

My attention followed hers across the room, eventually landing on June, who was nursing a drink alone by the bar. My eyes ping-ponged between her and Nero. There was no missing the longing clouding his pupils.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ne, aren’t you tired of pretending?”

Nero sipped his drink and turned his attention back to the stage.

“You’re going to miss the show, Ness.”

“But—”

“Angel.” She looked up at me, leaving her brother to make an escape in the opposite direction. “Remember what you told me? About friends in relationships trying to set you up?”

She frowned.

I traced figure eights around her shoulder. “Let it happen when it happens.”

“ If it happens,” she grumbled.

I shook my head. “When it happens.”

She settled back into my side just as Kaylani banged her gavel once more, this time closing the deal between Tucker and . . .

“That’s the podcast guy,” Nessa said. “Brock Heller.”

It sure was. An interesting development indeed.

Bennett was up next. For the next few minutes, he swayed side to side, looking both excited and terrified to be there. As it turned out, there had been no need for his trepidation. People from around the room volleyed increasing dollar amounts toward our catcher.

Seven hundred, eight hundred, one thousand dollars.

“Holy shit.” Dani clinked her nails against her wineglass. “Benny’s got game.”

Nothing could have prepared me for the familiar voice that sounded out above the rest. The same one that had called me “Jare-bear” for the first two decades of my life.

“Eighteen hundred dollars.”

My eyes widened like saucers.

“Belles, what are you doing?”

Not two seconds later, she raised her bet. “Two thousand dollars.”

“Sold.”

Hoots and hollers rang out around the room when Kaylani banged her gavel. What the fuck just happened?

“Jare-bear?” Bella whispered.

“Belles?”

“I need to borrow two thousand dollars.”