Page 2

CHAPTER ONE

CONOR

Why the fuck am I doing this?

“Seriously! Why the fuck am I doing this?” I huff, crossing my arms, slinking into my leather armchair, and glaring at each of my brothers.

Declan stares back at me and obnoxiously clears his throat as he overtly looks at the rest of my family. “Do I need to state the obvious?”

I still don’t quite know which of my idiot brothers—or their wives—decided that hosting a bachelor auction at the club would be a good idea, but they are absolutely set on the idea of this event. All of them are even more adamant on the idea of me being one of the bachelors in the auction. Or the bachelor of the auction.

“I know the four of you are married, and that’s why you aren’t doing it,” I gruff. “I’m asking why the fuck do I have to do it?”

“C’mon big guy,” Layla flirts, arching a suggestive brow. “The ladies—and some of the men—will go fucking feral for you. Especially if we tell them about the”—her eyes dip to my crotch, and she clears her throat—“hardware you’re sporting.”

Unable to hide my annoyance, I give my brothers my best death glare. I’ve spent a good portion of my life dealing with their jokes and putting up with their shit, but this? This might take the cake.

“We obviously can’t force you to do it.” Tristan shrugs, leaning against the doorframe. Flashing his cocky grin—the one that usually precedes him getting his way—he continues, “But we did already send out the announcement to the members. Including the part about you being included.”

“Of course you fucking did,” I snarl, gritting my teeth and shaking my head. “So, I’m just supposed to roll over, get up on stage, and be a happy prize for the highest bidder?”

“Roll over. Bend them over.” Finn begins laughing so hard he chokes out the rest of his joke between cackles, “ Get bent over .”

“I am not getting bent over,” I spit. “I will do a lot of shit for this family, but that is where I draw the line.”

“Fine, don’t get bent over,” Declan, now sitting on the arm of the couch, chuckles at me. “This might actually be good for you, Con.”

Tightening the cross of my arms, I cock a brow and ask, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone new,” he answers. “Someone you’re interested in for more than a few hours before ghosting her.”

Rolling my eyes, I exhale loudly. “I don’t ghost anyone. I just… don’t feel the need to seek an everlasting relationship with every woman who lets me see her naked. Not everyone is in a rush to get hitched like the lot of you.” I glance over at Liam, who upended all our lives and has been married for all of six months.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Liam grumbles. “You’ve been dragging your feet for years. It’s time to put yourself out there, whether you like it or not.”

“Or not,” I snip. “I’ve got time. No one’s waiting for me to settle down.”

“You might find you actually like having someone who doesn’t just end up in your bed and out the door before breakfast,” Catlin chimes, with her ever-sweet voice.

“Low blow.” I shake my finger at her. “You know you’re far too innocent and beautiful for me to fight with.”

“That was the plan,” she bubbles with a wink. “You’re overthinking it. You’ll be fine. You’re handsome, well-built, and don’t have a ring on your finger. The women will fight for you. Besides, it’s a charity event, not an episode of Married At First Sight .”

“Again—” Layla interrupts and drops her eyes to my crotch, “The ladies will be excited as hell that you are participating. Trust me.”

“Fine.” I obnoxiously roll my eyes, giving in to this argument that I’m clearly not going to win. Rory joins us from the back of the club, and I blurt, “We’re forcing him to do this too, right?”

“No such luck, Con.” Rory shakes his head. “My graying hair and bullet-wound-ridden body aren’t exactly a huge selling point. And I don’t think I can pull off the little black speedo and bowtie Layla has picked out for you.”

“The fucking what ?” My eyes blow wide as the room erupts with laughter.

Slapping his hand on my shoulder, Rory chuckles. “I’m fucking with you… But now that I brought it up, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Great… Now I’m going to be up for auction wearing a black banana hammock.

“This is fucking bullshit!” I huff. “Is anyone else doing this fucking event?”

“Jorge,” Layla interjects.

“Hey, I’ve got a good idea,” Finn suddenly chimes in, his eyes wide with mischief. “What if Jorge joins you in the auction?”

I freeze. “Jorge?” I look at Finn, a little too uncomfortable at the idea. “Are you seriously suggesting that Jorge and I auction ourselves off together? As some kind of… package?”

“I can’t say I object to that idea.” Jorge gives me a too-flirtatious wink.

“Nope.” I vehemently shake my head. “You’re missing a few key components to be my type, Jorge.”

“Come on. Maybe just consider it a little bit?” He smirks. “You’re my last chance at nailing down an Evans.”

“I’m going to suggest you don’t hold your breath.” Maintaining his stare, I seriously ask, “You can’t seriously be happy about getting roped into this shit?”

“Um, yes. Yes, I can,” he retorts. “I’m actually crossing my fingers that there are ropes involved with the big burly Daddy I hope bids on me.”

“I’m not happy about it, Jorge. You realize that, right?”

He shrugs. “Hey, if nothing else, it’s for charity. You’re doing something for a good cause.”

“And if you’re lucky, a gorgeous woman will bid on you and you’ll have one hell of a night,” Tristan adds, that ridiculous cheeky grin spreading across his face again.

“For fuck’s sake,” I gruff. “I already said I’d do it.”

But I sure as fuck don’t have to like it.