Bound to the Bachelor (2 page)

She held the phone out to Beau. His gaze held hers for a long beat before dropping to the screen, his reluctance palpable.

“Man, you fight dirty,” he said.

She had him. She could tell by the way his shoulders dropped a notch. She bit her lip, stifling a triumphant grin.

“When is it again?” he asked.

“Does that mean you’re in?”

“Like I’m going to say no after that.” He gestured toward her phone, clearly unhappy about being railroaded.

“It’s Saturday, Feb 7, at Grey’s. I’ll email you the details.”

“If I get my ass pinched one time, I’m coming after you.” He nailed her with his deep blue gaze.

She felt a little giddy with relief, having convinced herself she wasn’t going to be able to recruit him, and she couldn’t hold back her grin any longer.

“It’s your own fault, you know. If you did a little less of this kind of thing” – her gesture took in the training area with its punching bags and speed ball – “and a little more lying around, drinking beer, eating pizza. and watching football, you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone getting grabby with your precious ass.”

Beau eyed her coolly. “As long as one of us is enjoying this.”

She slipped her phone into her pocket and took a step backward, well aware she’d already outstayed her welcome. Such as it was.

“I’ll send you through some of the dates the other guys are putting together so you can see what they’re offering. I’ll need the details of your date ASAP for the menu and our Facebook page.”

“What do you mean, my date?”

“What did you think people would be bidding on? Your body? We’re not running a brothel, you know.”

His breath hissed out between his teeth, and she knew she was pushing him with her teasing. It was hard to stop when she had him on the ropes, however. It was a rare day when she came out on top in an encounter with Beau Bennett.

“Send me through the other offers, I’ll come up with something,” he said.

“Try to make it romantic,” she couldn’t resist adding. “I’m sure Google will have some good suggestions.”

The fabric of his hoodie pulled taut and she guessed he was clenching his hands in the pockets. “Ever heard of quitting while you’re ahead?”

“Yep, that’s why I’m going now.” She turned to go, then immediately swung back as a thought hit her, the thick plait of her hair bouncing over her shoulder. “You’re not going to back out on me, are you?”

“I don’t back out. Of anything.” He said it grimly, like a soldier going into battle.

“Good to hear. I’ll send through those details tonight.”

She slipped back through the door into the reception area, striding across the utilitarian grey carpet toward the front entrance. She only slowed her pace when she was outside, sucking icy-cold air into her lungs.

“Thank God,” she breathed.

She unsnapped her coat and fluffed the front of her sweater, trying to cool her overheated body. That had been… full on. But it always was with Beau. There was something about the way he looked at her, the steady intensity of his bright blue eyes, and the way he held his body that never failed to make her skittish.

Pheromones
, the voice in her head said.
Hard-core, old-school alpha male pheromones
.

Maybe that was what it was. Or maybe it was something else, some instinct in her that picked up his dislike and reacted to it. Whatever, she’d signed him up, and her ordeal was officially over.

Thank God.

Now she just had to pull the rest of this auction together and do her damnedest to raise a shed load of money for Josh and Molly…

After what she’d just been through, it felt like a piece of cake. Her step a hundred times lighter, she headed for her car.

‡

L
ily put the
last tea-light candle on the last table, then propped her hands on her hips and took one last look around Grey’s Saloon.

The timeworn source of many Marietta, Montana, hangovers, Grey’s had had the same decor for years – battered bar along one wall, booths along the other, scarred floorboards, tarnished mirrors. Today, the saloon also sported a dozen extra cocktail tables with foldout chairs and a makeshift stage along the back wall where the noticeboard usually held pride of place. A mic and podium had been set up to one side for the auctioneer, leaving enough room for the bachelors to strut their stuff.

And what a selection of bachelors they had. Lily still wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to convince six very hot, very single men to put their bodies on the auction block for a good cause. Some of them had been easy – cocky, gorgeous Jet Casey had put his hand up the moment Lily broached the subject with him, for example. Some had been tough – Beau Bennett sprang to mind. And some, like her friend Ryan Henderson, she’d had to coax and cajole and charm into making a commitment. By hook or by crook – or, more accurately, by flirt or by manipulation – she’d rounded up six hotties and in just a couple of hours’ time, they would know if all the effort had been worthwhile.

Damn, but she hoped so. She wanted Josh to have everything he needed and more. She wanted Molly to stop fretting, to be able to
breathe
and not have to worry every time an envelope with a telltale address window came in the mail. She wanted –

Lily’s eyes widened as she caught sight of the time. Where had the last hour gone? She needed to get home, shower, change, and then get back here in time to make sure everyone was ready to go when people arrived.

Spinning on her heel, she grabbed her bag from where she’d dumped it on the bar and called out to let Reese Kendrick, Grey’s head bartender, know she was leaving. He’d been great, answering her questions all afternoon, helping her move things around. She’d have to come up with some way to repay him when all of this was over.

His voice echoed out from the kitchen, letting her know he’d see her later, and she rushed out the door, shrugging into her coat as she went. It had snowed last night, but the streets had been cleared early and she had no trouble getting home. She tapped her foot impatiently as the elevator took her from the underground garage to her level, bolting out the doors the moment they opened. She’d laid out her dress and shoes this morning, and she was wearing her hair up, so she figured she could be in and out of the shower and out the door again in twenty minutes. Give or take.

She spared a glance for the door across the hallway from her own as she pulled her keys out, feeling a stab of nostalgia for the time when Andie had been just a few steps away. If Andie hadn’t married Heath and moved out last year, they would be getting ready tonight, maybe having a calming glass of wine before the inevitable chaos of the auction.

Lily shook off the thought. Andie and Heath were deliriously, impossibly in love, and Lily couldn’t be happier for them. Missing her good friend was small potatoes compared to the radiant light in Andie’s eyes every time she looked at her husband.

Sometimes, life just worked out the way it was supposed to.

Lily kicked the door shut as she strode into her apartment, tossing her bag on the couch before motoring into the bedroom. She toed off her shoes at the same time that she shed her coat, kicking the former into the corner and throwing the latter on the bed. She was stripping her sweater over her head when a knock sounded on the front door.

Muttering under her breath at the interruption, she padded out of her bedroom to answer the door.

“Hey. I meant to bring this over last night – your mail got mixed up with mine somehow.” Her new neighbor, Sally, handed over a stack of envelopes.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Sally was already heading back across the hallway to her own apartment. “Good luck with the auction – it’s tonight, right?”

“You’re not coming? Don’t you want to buy yourself a man?” Lily teased.

“I’m living in a post-man world,” Sally said lightly, on the verge of shutting the door to her apartment. “So much simpler, just me and the cat.”

Lily laughed before shutting her door and racing back into the bedroom. Tossing the mail onto the bed, she practically ripped the rest of her clothes off before having the shortest shower in the history of the world. It wasn’t until she was toweling herself off afterward that she caught sight of the uppermost letter in the stack she’d thrown on the bed.

Printed across the top left corner of the thick white envelope were the words Jackson Warnock Law Associates, with a return address in Seattle. Dread thudded in the pit of her belly. She dropped the towel and reached for the letter. Her brain came up with a dozen different excuses for why she’d be receiving anything from anyone in Seattle as she tore the end off of the envelope and slid a folded sheet of paper free.

She sank onto the end of the bed as she scanned the brief letter. Stunned.

Her stepfather, Luther Pascoe, was dead. The lawyer said he’d suffered a short illness before passing nearly three months ago. They’d spent some time trying to find her, to let her know she had been left a ten thousand dollar legacy in his will.

The first emotion to hit her was relief, followed by a flash of searing anger. Then what he’d done started to sink in and her lip curled with disgust.

Because this was his way of having the last word, inserting himself into her life whether she wanted him there or not. Her stomach turned as a dozen horrible memories flashed across her mind.

Luther bellowing at her mother in the kitchen until Belinda hung her head and hunched her shoulders in defeated submission. His explosive, unpredictable temper when crossed or defied. The dark, intent look in his eyes as he entered Lily’s bedroom and pushed the door closed. The letter was shaking in her hand and she pressed it to her knees, willing away the ugly memories, pushing them back where they belonged – the past, a place she never had to visit again.

She hadn’t seen Luther since the night she climbed out her bedroom window fourteen years ago, taking nothing with her except a handful of clothes and the few dollars she’d managed to squirrel away. It had taken time, but she’d ousted him from the place he’d once occupied in her emotional landscape. These days, she barely thought of him at all.

And now he’d done this.

The chime of a text message arriving made her lift her head. She blinked, remembering where she was, what was happening tonight. The auction, Josh, Molly…

She didn’t have time for this.

Shooting to her feet, she tossed the letter onto her chest of drawers and started dressing. She tied the sash on her deep aubergine wool, wrap dress as she went in search of her phone to find out who was texting. It was Molly, letting her know she might be a little late to Grey’s as she and Josh were moving more slowly than she’d hoped. Lily texted back a quick reassurance before hastily finishing dressing. Makeup consisted of some hastily applied mascara, eye-liner and lipstick. Her hair was pinned up, with a few loose tendrils teasing around her face. A spray of perfume, and she was dragging on her long down coat, shoving her shoes into her bag and slipping on her waterproof boots. Snow was forecast for tonight, and she wasn’t ruining her black suede ankle boots for anyone.

Her mind whirled with all the things that still needed to be done as she drove back to Grey’s. She’d asked the bachelors to arrive thirty minutes before kickoff and she smiled with relief when she pushed through the double doors into the welcome warmth of the saloon and saw Jett Casey and Ryan Henderson talking with Reese at the bar.

Great. Two bachelors on deck, four to go.

“Gentleman. Bless you for showing up,” she said by way of greeting.

They swung to face her, and she had to admit they’d both scrubbed up very nicely, indeed. Ryan had on his best chef’s whites, the double-breasted tunic making his broad shoulders seem even wider than usual. Jett was in a black suit, his shirt open at the collar, a look he pulled off with easy confidence.

With a bit of luck, the ladies were going to go wild over these two tonight and lay down good money for the dates they were offering.

“Come upstairs and I’ll walk you through the running order for tonight,” she said, ascending the stairs to the overflow area Jason Grey had opened up to accommodate what they hoped would be big numbers at tonight’s function.

Dillon Sheenan was setting up the bar in the corner, and he gave her a friendly nod as she set down her bag and slid out of her coat.

“Okay, first things first. We’ve got Buck Thompson to officiate the auction itself –”

“The cattle auctioneer?” Ryan asked.

“That’s right.”

Jett raised his eyebrows, then a slow smile curved his mouth, taking him from handsome to devastating in a flash. “Going to put us through our paces, is he?”

“I hope so,” Lily said. “Remember, this is all for Josh, so you work that stage, gentlemen.”

Over the next half hour, Jesse Grey, Gabriel Morales, and Lincoln Brady arrived. Lily familiarized them with the stage and the running order for the evening, one eye on the door most of the time.

Where the hell was Beau Bennett? Mr. I-never-back-out?