The Winner Takes All (Complete Collection)

4. Highest Bidder

4

HIGHEST BIDDER

Tanner

I have one of the best seats in the house.

Reese likes the guys to sit in the front row, so it feels like we’re fully a part of the lineup.

Or maybe she likes it because we’re so loud. A bunch of guys who play sports for a living are not wired to be quiet when their buddies strut their wares onstage for the city to bid on.

I’m in front of Nate and Hunter. Jason McKay’s here too, with his fiancé, Beck. They’re rival quarterbacks in San Francisco and getting hitched after the All-Star game at the end of next week. I’ll be able to slide in and slide out of their nuptials, like Indiana Jones grabbing his hat.

Which is maybe a more fitting analogy than I’d like. But if the hat fits…

Before the auction starts, Jason leans forward, pats my shoulder. “Maybe you can find a date for my wedding here. You’d probably have to bid on him to go with you, but hey, it could work.”

I snap my fingers like I just remembered something. “That’s right. I forgot to get you a gift. Note to self: Order rush delivery on the giant two-headed dildo and send it to Jason McKay at the Hawks Stadium. Signature required.”

Beck snickers. “That’s a nice gift.”

Jason grumbles, “Yeah. I want that now.”

With a smug smile, I turn my focus to Luke as he takes the stage, greeting the crowd like the charmer he is, rolling into an opening monologue before he offers up the first prize. It’s his go-to guy on the Leopards—the team’s star receiver.

“Cruz Sanchez is one of my favorite targets. Let’s show them what the Leopards can do,” Luke says to the brawny receiver and the crowd.

It’s our cue to make some noise.

Jason hoots from behind me.

I holler.

Reese will be so damn happy.

Luke smiles, clearly appreciating the call-and-response. Soon, Cruz goes for a pretty penny.

When Luke introduces Cohen next, we whistle even louder, like construction workers. As the bidding escalates and a woman in expensive stilettos who looks to be twice his age wins him, I shout, “That’s how we do it on the Comets.”

Cohen dips his head and just grins. Bashfully.

Luke makes his way through the rest of the lineup, feigning annoyance when North Rhodes hits the stage. “This guy has two interceptions on me, so take him. Just take him off the stage now,” Luke says, pretending to shoo the guy who has his number on the field far, far away.

North just shrugs amiably. “You keep throwing them to me, I’ll keep picking ’em off.”

Luke growls, narrowing his brow, and my skin heats up.

What the hell?

That’s a weird reaction to a growl. Maybe I’m just feeling protective of my bud.

As Luke charms the audience with some jokes, I check the time on my watch, since I’m up soon.

Reese catches my eye from the wings, and nods to say it’s time . I’m the last guy, and it’s good to be the one to bring it home.

After a boisterous group of women wins North—dude is going to have his hands full on that date—I’m backstage, waiting, ready to go on after Luke finishes auctioning off Vargas.

While I wait, I psych myself up. I picture the last several auctions. The way I feel when I stride across the stage. I try to call up those feelings of pride and confidence.

But they’re just out of reach. Tonight feels different. I’m feeling nerves, like I’m in high school again. This is so foreign. I hardly feel nerves when I step up to the plate in the majors, even against fire-hurling lefties.

“And the left-fielder for the Minotaurs is sold! To the guy in the leather jacket with the sinful beard,” Luke says, sounding like an auctioneer.

Maybe a dirty one.

Vargas shoots a naughty grin at the guy who won him, and I guess maybe someone is getting lucky tonight.

That’s another thing I love about this auction. Men and women come to bid on the guys. The lineup includes straight and queer athletes. The only requirement for an athlete who enters is to post a pic of the date they go on or send it to the organizers to post.

When Vargas passes me backstage, he whispers, “I warmed ’em up for you.”

I shake his hand. “Good man.”

When he leaves Reese whispers to me, “You look sharp. Bring it home. You’re a closer tonight.”

“I’ll get you a big win,” I say, then I steal a look at Luke.

The quarterback’s suit is fine . Fits like a dream, and that’s a problem for me. Suit porn is my downfall. Although to be fair, Luke with his shirt off did it for me last week too.

Focus, man, focus.

You’re at the plate. It’s the bottom of the ninth. Your team’s down by two. You’re the winning run.

There. I won’t think dirty thoughts about my buddy.

I can’t think dirty thoughts about a friend.

As he ambles across the stage, Luke chats with the audience about how the night is going, then finishes with, “All right, all right. Enough of me. That’s what you’re all saying, right?”

A man shouts from the seats in the back, “We could never get enough of you.”

Luke smiles his golden guy grin. “Thank you. And I can never get enough of all of you. The New York Leopards can’t either, so be sure to fill the stands and make some noise come football season.”

“We will,” a woman calls out.

“Now, I know some of you have been wanting to bid on me. I get it. I’m a top prize,” he deadpans.

“So enter the auction now,” another guy says.

I burn a little, but it’s not like the guy can win Luke. He’s not entering so there’s no need for me to feel…whatever this strange emotion is. An emotion I need to completely ignore. Just like I need to ignore these nerves. This uncertainty.

“Ah, if only I could enter,” Luke quips. “But see, I saved the best for last. There’s one guy you’ll all want more than me. And I am stoked to bring him onstage. The hottest baseball player in the city. The star shortstop for the New York Comets,” he says.

My chest swells a little with pride. Well, better my chest than my dick.

Dude, settle down. He’s talking you up for the auction. He cares about charity too.

“Come on down, Tanner Sloan,” he says confidently, then sweeps out an arm, inviting me onstage.

I stride across the hardwood, flashing my sexiest smile at the crowd. They cheer. Some hoot. Some shout take it off . Nate and Hunter do neither. Instead, Nate smiles evilly. Hunter does the same.

Ah, shit. Those two. I thought I cut their idea off at the knees with my laughter. With the way I steered the conversation far, far away from Nate’s ridiculous suggestion.

But they sure look like they’re going to egg on Luke, and I don’t know if I want them to.

I won’t look their way again. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Tanner, my friend,” Luke says when I reach him. “How the hell are you tonight?”

“Excellent, Luke. And you?” I ask genially, but I can’t read him. Can’t tell if he’s taking the dare or not.

“I am great. Especially since I have a good feeling about you .” He curls that damn hand on my shoulder again, sending a sharp sizzle down my skin.

Wait.

What the fuck was that?

“Tanner Sloan isn’t only one of baseball’s MVPs,” Luke says as I fight off the hot sensation flashing across my body. “He’s also an advocate for Minor League fair pay and has helped pave the path for the guys in the farm leagues. Plus, he’s always raising money to help get young kids off the street. Especially queer kids.”

Focus on the kids. The charities. The goal. I’ve got to stay in the auction zone. Not the bone zone.

Luke turns to me, genuine gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you for the work you do for homeless kids.”

I’m not an aw, shucks kind of guy, but I feel like one right now, especially since it takes my mind off other matters. I give a quick nod and say thank you.

But when Luke lets go of me, I miss that hand. I miss the spark. I miss the electricity I felt when he touched me.

Instantly, I know the answer to the what the fuck was that question.

Holy shit.

How did I miss it?

The signs are so goddamn obvious but I’ve been avoiding them. Ignoring them. Shoving them under all the rugs in my head I could find. And as Luke talks me up, bragging about how I’m good at poker, love rock music and golf, and am always there for my friends, I’m reeling inside from the realization.

“Let the bidding begin,” Luke says.

A hand goes up in the front row. A guy in a tight blue sweater lifts a paddle. “Twenty thousand,” he says.

Luke whistles, then smiles at me approvingly. “I bet you go for higher,” he says.

But I can barely think about the words he’s saying since I’m still shocked.

I’m ridiculously attracted to Luke Remington.

That’s what these weird feelings are. These strange sensations. This irritation I’ve felt for the last week since I dared him to show me his moves at Rapture.

But acting on the attraction would be dangerous, no matter how often a movie of those dance moves has been playing for me at the most inopportune times day and night.

Acting on it would be foolish too, since we don’t even want the same things. We’re on opposite pages when it comes to relationships.

But some people would say stepping into the box and facing down ninety-five-mile-an-hour fastballs is more dangerous than taking this kind of risk.

When the bidding goes to thirty, then thirty-five, then forty, Nate pops up from the front row and shouts, “ I dare you .”

He’s daring Luke, right?

Except, I stop thinking. Like when I’m at the plate, and I spot my pitch and I know I can hit it, I tune out the world.

And I just do, taking the dare for myself. I clear my throat and cut in, meeting the emcee’s gaze. “Weren’t you going to bid, Luke?”

My friend’s frozen for a few seconds. The whole ballroom goes starkly silent.

Then a smile spreads on his face. Slow and playful. Right along with a twinkle in his green eyes. “Are you daring me?”

I fucking am. “Yes,” I say, feeling bold and a little wild, and not at all irritated any more.

Luke shrugs, the kind that says he’s going for it. “Fine. I take that dare and I raise it. One hundred thousand for the star shortstop.”

Holy shit. He just threw down big time for me. Luke turns to the crowd. “Going once…”

A couple guys in the second row hem and haw as they whisper to each other. They look like tech bros. They might have enough dough to beat Luke.

Don’t. Don’t raise that paddle. Don’t crack open your wallets.

I don’t dare look at Luke though. Don’t want to give away how much I’m hoping no one messes this up for me.

“Going twice,” my friend says, drawing it out like he’s asking the crowd to just try to take this away from him. Just fucking try.

The tech bros settle into their seats, paddles down. I scan the rest of the ballroom, hunting for any signs of movement.

It’s quiet.

Holy shit.

Am I really about to go on a date with my friend?

What’s the harm in one date? Especially if it’s a nice date. Yes, that might solve the problem of Luke.

“Sold! To me!” Luke declares.

The audience erupts into cheers and claps.

As I leave the stage, I am very much looking forward to a nice date with my good friend.