The Bachelor Auction (The Bachelors of Arizona Book 1) by Rachel van Dyken Page A

cleaning, laughing, smiling—and it was fucking killing him.
    Logically, he knew it made no sense at all.
    Keep the old man happy, keep him alive.
    But trauma had a way of stealing all logic and replacing it with survival.
    He realized, as he blinked down at his phone, that’s all he’d been doing.
    Surviving.
    Not living.
    Two missed calls from Bentley.
    And three missed calls from his grandfather. For the first time in his life, he didn’t call back right away. Instead, he stared at the locked screen and waited.
    For the apocalypse? For the sky to fall? For something.
    His answer came five minutes later, when he dialed Bentley’s number only to hear the familiar Jay Z ring tone flood the hall.
    “Does this mean I’m the prodigal son?” Bentley’s cocky-as-hell voice said. “Since I stepped over the threshold first.”
    There was a loud thump, followed by cursing and laughter.
    Brock stood and walked around the corner.
    The twins were on the floor.
    And they were drunk.
    “What the hell are you both doing here?” Better yet, how did they get here if they were drunk off their asses? Brock’s thoughts suddenly turned dark and thunderous as he remembered who was upstairs. In a few minutes they’d be trying to seduce her into their beds. That’s what they did. And sometimes, they shared.
    No chance in hell.
    She was his.
    His torture? Was that it?
    “Admit it.” Bentley flashed him a smug grin. “You missed us!”
    “Yes,” Brock said in a dry tone. “That’s why I kept ignoring your calls. It hurt too much to hear your voices.”
    “You look like hell.” Brant sidestepped Bentley and eyed Brock with more clarity than felt comfortable. “How is it possible you look older and it’s only been a day?”
    Brock groaned. “Seriously, why are you both here? Did you miss the part where this is my last vacation before I get tossed into a pit of rich women with fake tits and trust funds?”
    “Commitment.” Bentley winced. “I’ll move to Canada before that becomes my fate.”
    “He’ll find you anywhere,” Brant said in an annoyed tone. “Believe me. One time I was taking a piss in Costa Rica, and naturally Grandfather walks in with a prostitute and—”
    Brock held up his hand. “I don’t think I need to hear the rest of that story.”
    “Yeah, man, not in front of Sheldon,” Bentley snapped.
    “Who the ever-loving hell is Sheldon?” Brock glanced around the room until his eyes settled on the open door, where the donkey he’d been calling Fred was hanging out casually in front of it. “Something’s not right with that donkey.”
    “Sheldon!” Bentley charged the poor ass and started patting its head. Sheldon, clearly confused that he was a donkey and not a dog, cuddled closer to Bentley. “How are you, old boy?”
    The donkey made a noise.
    Brock’s mouth dropped open. “It talks?”
    Bentley shrugged. “Sheldon used to be a magician’s assistant, he was part of the disappearing act. He can basically escape or break into anything. But he was too old to keep doing tricks. I won him.”
    “Yes, Grandfather mentioned.”
    “He’s very valuable. You have no idea how expensive it is to train a donkey.” He nodded seriously. “Hunh, Sheldon? What’s that, boy? You want to fetch?”
    “Donkeys don’t fetch.” Brant sighed. “Though I wager ten bucks Sheldon has his own Frisbee.”
    “Go home.” Brock opened the screen door. “Both of you, damn it.”
    Bentley’s eyes narrowed. “Cursing a lot, I see. Under some stress?”
    “He has bloodshot eyes,” Brant added in a cool calculating tone.
    “Out,” Brock repeated himself. “Seriously, go torture someone else.”
    “Grandfather wants to introduce Brant to a woman. He said I was next. I had both our asses packed before he micromanaged yet another one of us.” He smiled widely.
    “The point is this.” Bentley pushed against Brock’s chest, moving him from the screen door and farther into the house. “We need to lay low