What a Bachelor Needs (Bachelor Auction Book 4) (12 page)

She put her brow to his chest and he thought that maybe there were tears. “Jett, you weren’t even in my life five days ago and since then it’s been crazy wonderful, best ride in the park, and the sex…that was a revelation and don’t you dare puff out your chest and grin.” She thumped him with her fist as if he needed deflating.

Maybe he did.

Crazy wonderful, best ride in the park.

He agreed. Completely.

And he was still listening, doing his level best to figure out what she needed from him this morning. “I can go slower than this. Whatever you need, just tell me.”

“I need this thing between you and me to move more slowly.”

“Okay.” He pulled away, stepped back, and then he looked down and scooped Claire up off the ground, her back to his chest and his arm banding around her waist so that her arms and legs could kick free. He hoped that was an acceptable kid-hold. He was going on instinct rather than knowledge. “Go have your shower and get dressed. Take your time.”

She glanced up at him, all eyes and hair and a too pale face. “Am I going to wake up any minute now to find that last night and this morning was all a dream?”

“No. You’re father and Seth are in the kitchen and I’m a pushy bastard. But if this
was
a dream,
my
dream in particular, you would enter that eye-strain of a kitchen in ten minutes time, and you’d be rocking a loose-limbed saunter and an unrepentant smile.”

“Why? Because it would enhance your all-conquering reputation?”

“Because it would make my day to know that I made you feel good about yourself and what happened last night with me. End of story.” He shot her a grin, hitched Claire a little higher and two pigtails with little pink bows wobbled like alien antennae. “We’ll be in the kitchen. Me, Claire, Seth, your Dad. Bonding. Slowly. And watching the wall fall down.”

Mardie’s hair hid her face for the most part as she turned away and headed for the bathroom, but he thought he saw a tiny spark of amusement in her eyes and the faintest tilt of her lips at his words.

And that was what he wanted.

*

It took a
little longer than ten minutes to make herself presentable, but by the time Mardie made her way to the kitchen – wearing several more layers of clothing than she’d been wearing earlier – she’d almost come to terms with the situation. So what if her father knew that she and Jett had spent the night together? So what if Jett’s brother knew? She and Jett were consenting adults, free agents, and no-one was getting hurt. They’d been honest with each other about their wishes and expectations.

Healthiest relationship she’d ever been in.

So saunter into the room she did, and watched an appreciative smile light Jett’s face in reply. He really was impossible to ignore. Especially when he channeled all that light and focus on her.

He made her feel beautiful.

Claire sat in her high chair, a smorgasbord of food on the tray plate in front of her and not a utensil in sight. So much food that her daughter had taken to finger painting with it instead of eating it. The high chair had been situated next to the refrigerator, as far away from the wall carnage as it could get and still be in the room. Jett hovered within reach of it, clearly tending to Claire rather than working. Her father and Seth were now the ones holding sledgehammers. Possibly a good thing. Possibly not.

“Did you give my daughter the last of the red velvet cheesecake?”

“There’s more. And there’s coffee.” He poured her a glass, topped it off with milk and one sugar and handed it over. “Seth wants to know if you still want two doors into the room or whether we should fill one of them in.”

“I think two doors. They’re at each end. Could be useful.”

“What about the floor? You want the lino up? It’s all wooden boards underneath.”

“Can you do that in the time you have left?”

“Course I can.”

“He’s Batman,” said Seth. “And he’s going to try and steal a couple of my laborers for the day. Which he’s not getting. Notice how he’s doing nothing
now
.”

“I’m babysitting. This is hard work.”

Her father was watching them from the corner of his eye. She wondered what he thought of them. He’d always wanted sons. Instead he’d gotten her and no others. All she’d ever been was a mystery and, more often than not, a disappointment to him. “Dad, have you seen the front room yet? And the porch?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t walk on it,” said the Casey brothers in unison.

“It’s the weather,” Jett continued amiably. “We’ve got heating blankets over the concrete to preserve the strength as it dries but it’s still not a quick-dry process.”

“Drives him nuts,” Seth muttered.

“Speak for yourself. You hate waiting for concrete to dry.”

“I see the bonding’s going well,” Mardie murmured to Jett.

“Oh, it is.”

“If you lie in this kitchen you’ll turn orange and green. It’s happened before.”

“It’s not going well.”

“Do you mind doing five more minutes of babysitting while I show Dad what you’ve done?”

“If diapers are involved, I’m coming to find you.”

Smiling was so easy when this man was around.

“Dad, are you coming?”

Mardie showed her father the front room and the porch. He took it all in, and the first words he spoke were not about home improvements.

“You don’t even know him.”

“I know he’s a good man.”

“You’ve thought that before and look what happened.”

“I know better now. I know what to look for. There is no comparing Jett to Boyd.”

“It’s too soon.”

“To what? Put myself out there, even though there’s a chance I might get hurt again? Would you rather I never let another man touch me? Because, trust me, I’ve considered it. And then along came this man and I discovered that I’m not as broken as I thought. I
can
give and take pleasure; I
can
trust someone enough to let them get that close. I’m not ashamed of what happened here last night with Jett. I’m calling it a good thing.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know. And I might. Jett might drop me as quickly as he picked me up and that
will
hurt. But he’s not going to hurt me in the same way Boyd did. That is never going to happen to me again. I’d speak out. Get help. I would turn to you this time, I’d confide in you more, and I’d
listen
to what people were trying to tell me. I’m listening now. To Jett. To my own thoughts. And I’m listening to you. So if you really don’t like Jett Casey or the way he’s treating me, or if you know something about him that I should know, I’m right here and my ears are open.”

Her father closed his eyes and gathered her close. “I don’t know the first thing about the man. Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll know more. And if he steps a foot wrong, you
come
to me this time. You hear?”

“I will.” Mardie stepped back, tried to pull herself together. “So what do you think of the house now?” Her father hadn’t been its biggest fan. He’d looked at it and seen the work and not the promise in it. “It’s getting better, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s going to be beautiful.”

*

Mardie refused to
let her thoughts linger too much on Jett as she worked her shift at Grey’s that night. The snow had settled, the plows had been through and people were out and about again. Their regulars were in their regular places, casual drinkers and diners had come in, bringing voices and laughter with them, not to mention tips. Good trade, steady trade, and along with that, a dozen or so bikers had pulled into town late and taken up residence in the back room of the bar. Reese had frowned when they’d first come in, but they seemed peaceable enough. They drank plenty and tipped well. They kept to themselves and commandeered the pool table and played a few games – badly. Mardie’s fingers itched for a pool cue and some chalk, but Reese shook his head in silent warning.

No hustling this lot – they might not take well to a waitress showing them how the game was played.

“Another round for the bikers,” she told Reese who slanted the group an assessing glance.

“Last one.”

“They’re not going to like that.”

“Sad.”

“There’s a lot of them.”

“Jason’s on his way and so are Bee and Trey.”

Jason, the Saloon’s reclusive owner could be downright scary when he wanted to be. Bee was their only female bouncer, and those she couldn’t sweet talk out of the bar got a glimpse of the dark ops mercenary she’d once been. Trey was a Sheenan – enough said. And Reese could more than hold his own.

“If things go south, you head for the kitchen and stay there,” Reese said.

“My pleasure.” This was the part she didn’t like about working at the bar. The confrontation that flared up occasionally. The violence that rolled in on someone’s shoulders and made everyone uneasy.

She never slept well after a fight night at the bar. Too many memories and all of them ugly.

Mardie slipped behind the bar and started unpacking the dishwasher. She’d unpacked, restacked and started the washer in the time it took Reese to pour twelve shots of vodka.

Reese was on the go-slow when it came to serving the bikers their next round of drinks.

“They’re going to want their beer as well.”

Reese reached for a lone beer glass. “It’s coming.”

“So’s Christmas.”

“Give me five, ten, minutes.”

“They’re going to know. It’s not that busy.”

“They’ll wait.”

Mardie delivered the drinks eventually and the shots were gone before she’d delivered the last of the beers. She snuck a glance at the pool table as she passed the beers around.

“There’s another bar over by the railway called the Wolf’s Den,” she told the leader as she picked up the tray of now empty shot glasses topped with a pile of money. “You’ll get cheaper drinks and better pool tables there and it’s open until three.”

“Sweetheart, we’re not after tourist information.” He was a big, meaty man with hard black eyes and a pock-marked face. “We like it here. Service is a little slow, though. Maybe we should order that next round of drinks now. Unless you’d rather stay and play with us, in which case we might be happy to wait.”

“I’m working.”

“Take a break.”

“Someone’s already played the break. And someone’s got to get you those drinks.”

“Keep the change,” the lead biker said.

No one stopped her as she left, but Mardie’s hands were shaking by the time she reached Reese. She could feel the crawl of hot gazes along her back. She could sense the predator sniffing after prey, and she hated it. “They want another round.”

The news didn’t surprise Reese.

Mardie handed him the tray topped with money and Reese rang the order up and put the money through the till. He handed her back two one hundred dollar bills plus some change. “That your tip?”

“That’s what they said.”

“They want any more food?”

“No. How soon can the others be here?”

“Soon.”

“They wanted me to play pool.”

Reese shot her a sharp glance. “Stay off their radar.”

“Too late.”

“Then stay where I can see you.” He looked down at her still shaking hands and then back up at her face. “What else happened?”

She tucked her turncoat hands beneath her arms. “Nothing. Just old business of mine that sometimes comes along for the ride.” Reese had never asked her about her marriage, but he knew her history in the same way that Ella knew it, and Jason Grey had known it when she’d turned up at his bar newly pregnant, newly single, and sporting fresh bruises. She’d been replying to the waitstaff wanted poster in the window. She’d never waited a table before in her life, but Jason had taken her on when so many others had turned her away, and kept her on while she’d learned how to do the job. “You know how I get on occasion. Doesn’t have anything to do with the here and now. I can deal with it.”

Reese looked as if he wanted to argue.

“I can do my job, Reese.”

“Stay where I can see you. I mean it.”

Picking up an empty tray, Mardie nodded and set off to collect empty glasses from her side of the bar. Carla was working the other side of the room with her usual panache. Carla had great legs and a sway in her stride that people tipped well for. They met at booth four and Carla transferred her lone empty glass to Mardie’s tray. “You need a hand on your side? I’m all caught up over here.”