Most Valuable Playboy

“Yeah, that’s the issue, as I’ve just learned,” I say with a heavy sigh, more open with her, since she’s not programmed to hassle me like my buddies are.

She raises an eyebrow in a silent question. But the noise from the front drowns us out when a bidding war for Jones escalates quickly. Numbers fly back and forth at light speed. Finally, the winning woman lands a date with Jones for forty-four fifty. Damn, that’s a sweet number, and well above last year. Jillian cheers and gives him a hug when he returns backstage as Sierra chats with the audience, tossing out questions to the crowd.

Violet grabs my elbow. Her eyes are serious. “Is everything okay? Did something happen with Maxine? You mentioned her before you left the suite.”

Sierra calls out to me, and I step toward the stage, my voice going deadpan as I answer Violet quietly, “I wouldn’t use the term okay to describe my interaction with her.”

“What happened?”

I hate complaining. I hate being this guy. But I would do just about anything to escape Maxine. “Let’s just say I’d rather ride the bench again than have her win.”

Now, it’s my turn.

I turn around, stroll onto the stage, and wave to the crowd. The ballroom is stuffed full of people with happy shining faces and eager generosity. It warms the cockles of my heart to see so many here to help us give back. Yeah, I don’t know what cockles are, either, but mine are toasty, and our fans are amazing.

I give Sierra a peck on the cheek. Her eyelids flutter, and she clasps her hand to her cheek. “I’ll never wash this cheek again,” she says to the crowd, and laughter bounces across the big room. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the pièce de résistance, this year’s starting quarterback at long last, and the winner of the Most Valuable Playboy auction the last three years in a row. After all, who wouldn’t want to take this handsome and talented man out for a night on the town? Everyone loves the quarterback.”

Someone scoffs. “He wasn’t the quarterback the last few years.”

With a wink, Sierra expertly pivots to the positive. “And now we’re lucky to have him at the helm.”

I lean into the mic. “And it’s an honor to have stepped into the shoes of a legend. I will keep doing everything I can to make the fans proud.”

Sierra smiles approvingly.

A high-pitched voice from the middle of the room shouts, “We love you, Coop! Win this weekend.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say with a smile.

“You always do,” Sierra says.

Someone else boos, and I see it’s a guy in the crowd wearing a Jeff Grant jersey. “We want Grant the Greatest back.”

I give a grin, since this is all par for the course. “I bet he’d be hard to talk off his fifty-foot yacht, where he’s enjoying a well-earned retirement.”

“He is indeed,” Sierra says, smoothly steering the event like she has all evening. “So let’s get to know Cooper Armstrong. How does that sound to all of you?”

More cheers than jeers erupt so I take that as my cue to remove the jacket. That earns me some hollers of “nice vest!” I glance to the wings, and Violet gives me a thumbs-up, mouthing vests are hot.

“Cooper is six-four, with light brown eyes and dark brown hair. And, are his cheekbones to die for, or what?” I flash a smile, enjoying her compliments. “In addition to his sixty-three percent pass completion rate so far this season, Cooper can make a mean chicken stir-fry, a fantastic jambalaya, and he’s also been known to wow dinner guests with his penne pasta.” Sierra pauses to wiggle her eyebrows. “There’s just something sexy about a man who can cook, am I right, or am I right?”

“You can cook for me anytime,” a woman shouts.

“I’m quite talented in the kitchen,” I add with a wink.

“A man who can throw like that and cook? I think I might need to toss my hat in the ring.” Sierra throws an imaginary hat, and I decide it’s time to roll up the sleeves. Give ’em forearm to get ’em going. I peel back my cuffs, folding them up, revealing the arms they all like. Why yes, there’s a reason I’ve won the last few years. I play to the crowd. “He also was a superstar in karaoke last year and loves to go on karaoke dates at the local bar.” She brings her hand to her heart. “Cooper, can you sing a little Bon Jovi for us?”

“Why, I never thought you’d ask, Sierra.” I take the mic and give them the first line of the greatest karaoke song ever, about a guy named Tommy who used to work on the docks.

Sierra points the mic toward the audience, and they enthusiastically sing the next line about the union on strike.

I smile, feeling for the first time like I might escape Maxine’s clutches after all. Everything’s going well so far, and the crowd is fantastic. Maybe Maxine was all talk. I don’t even spot her in the sea of people.

“And now, let the bidding begin,” Sierra declares.

Trent blows me an exaggerated kiss from his table. Holly waves, too. She was his high school sweetheart, and now she’s his wife. She cups her hands over her mouth and shouts, “Ten bucks for The Coop.”

Sierra chuckles, then chides them. “Don’t we think he’s worth more than that?”

Trent lifts his index finger. “Fine, we’ll take him home with us for twenty dollars. He can do yard work.”

Sierra gives me a serious look. “What do you think, Cooper? Can we get more than twenty dollars for you?”

I scratch my chin and shrug, giving my best self-deprecating smile. “Hard to say. I did mow lawns in high school, though, so I might have to ask for thirty dollars, just on account of my ability to make the green grass in a garden look so very pretty.”

Sierra wiggles her eyebrows. “And somehow, a man this handsome makes everything sound like innuendo.”

I flash a smile.

“Fifty bucks. But we want a money-back guarantee,” Trent says.

Holly thrusts her hands in the air, shouting, “He’s coming home with us as the new lawn boy.”

Sierra peers at the crowd. “What do you say? Would anyone like to bid on an actual date with this star athlete?”

I shake my head, because hell, I’d love if Trent and Holly won with a fifty-dollar bid. I’d gladly fork over the rest to raise money for the charity.

Then, I hear someone say, “Three thousand dollars.”

My blood goes cold at the husky sound. Maxine has powered her way to the front of the crowd, planting herself in the middle of the action.

Sierra arches a brow. “That’s quite a jump.”

“He’s worth every penny,” Maxine purrs, her voice bursting with determination.

My insides coil tightly.

I can do this. I’m chill. I’m cool. I can fend off Maxine. I’ve done this my whole life—let things roll off me. No father? No problem. No money? Not an issue. No game time? Slap on a happy face and fucking learn everything until it’s your turn.

I can deal with a handsy, horny, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer woman.

Especially since others are getting into the bidding now. A brunette in a crisp gray business suit raises her paddle and offers three thousand two hundred fifty dollars. A lady with blue hair and pearls trumps her by one hundred.