What a Bachelor Needs (Bachelor Auction Book 4) (14 page)

Mardie pulled away and looked back at the Bee and Reese. “Thanks for the backup.”

“You got it,” said Bee. “Good game.”

“What happened?” said Jett as they reached the door and he opened it for her. Country boy, country manners, through and through.

“I played pool.”

*

It was heading
for one a.m. by the time they got back to the house and Mardie had settle Claire into bed. Mardie didn’t normally do nightcaps, but tonight, sitting in her much bigger kitchen and dining area, with the smell of freshly sanded floorboards all around her, and wet plaster on the ceiling where the dividing wall had once been, Mardie made an exception and reached for the bottle of over proof bourbon buried deep in one of the cupboards.

“Want to talk about it?”

“I really don’t,” she said and poured them both a double. “But I should.”

She didn’t even know where to begin. “We had bikers in tonight, drinking hard but otherwise behaving. Reese had called a few of our regular bouncers to come in around closing time. We stopped serving, but the bikers wanted to keep the drinks coming. We needed time for reinforcements to get in so I played pool and won, and then one of the bikers came up behind me and boxed me in between him and the pool table. I froze.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Sawyer boxed me in behind the bar once. There’s no space behind that bar, you’re always up in someone’s grill, and all he did was lean over me to get a bottle of top shelf whisky. I froze then, too.”

“So people learn to give you a little more space than usual. Sounds reasonable.”

“It is reasonable – in most cases. But this time the flow-on effect of my freezing was a little more dramatic. I was a heartbeat away from trying to wrap a pool cue around some biker’s head, and everybody knew it. I wouldn’t have gotten very far with that plan, by the way. For one thing I was surrounded but that wasn’t the point. I was going down swinging. That was the point.”

“So who saved the day?”

“Bee. She’s one of our bouncers. She’s very persuasive.”

Mardie finally got the guts to look at him. “I had no business bringing my baggage to the table. I made things far worse than they needed to be.” Finally the tears she’d been holding onto all evening began to fall. “I’m not a victim anymore but I still behave like one in so many ways. I do stupid things. I don’t
think
right.”

“Hey.”

“I wind people up. I
make
a bad situation worse.”

“
Enough
.” He had a tough voice when he decided to use it. A soft touch as he leaned over the counter, just like that first time, and pressed his lips to hers. “Bad night. Explosive situation. Reese knew where it was headed when he called his bouncers in. Not your doing. None of it your fault.”

“But the rest—

“Happened. People are people. Sometimes the mix is wrong. C’mon. Shower for you and then bed.”

“Will you shower with me?”

“You still don’t have any water pressure in there. That job got transferred to tomorrow’s work sheet.”

She didn’t want him to go. “You could shower with me anyway.”

He looked at her as if he could see into her soul. “Okay.”

Will you sleep with me?”

“Yes.”

‡

W
hen Mardie woke
the following morning, she was alone and the clock told her it was a quarter past six. Jett wasn’t in the bathroom or the kitchen and Claire wasn’t in her bed.

She found them fast asleep in front of a slow burning fire in the front room, Jett stretched out on the carpet in track pants, a ragged grey Henley and a couch pillow behind his head, Claire nestled into his chest with one of his arms curled loosely around her, holding her in place. There’d been a blanket at one point, but it had lost the battle and lay scrunched to one side of them.

She wanted to take a photo.

She wanted to cry.

When had Jett gotten up to see to her baby? Around 4 a.m., which was the time Claire normally woke? Why hadn’t he woken her?

She wanted to burn this moment onto the back of her eyelids so she could revisit it on a daily basis.

Instead, she put another log on the fire and got down on her knees and joined them, pulling the blanket up over them and promising herself that later…when daybreak snuck in and shone light on the situation… she’d stop dreaming about what could be.

Today was Friday, and after today Jett was no longer her bought-and-paid-for handyman. She wouldn’t see him on a daily basis. He wouldn’t greet her every morning with his dimples and his demands for more work.

After today… things would get back to normal.

She eased a little closer, pressing up against his length and he was warm and perfect and he roused enough to get his arm around her now that she could buffer Claire. “Is it morning?” he mumbled.

“Not yet.”

And all together they slept.

*

The next time
Mardie woke, Claire was beside her munching on a biscuit and Jett was sitting beside her holding two cups of coffee in his hands. “It’s nine thirty,” he said. “When do you need to be at work?”

“Ten thirty.”

“You could call in sick. Worn-out. Jaded.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Mardie regarded him solemnly. “Do you ever not turn up when you don’t feel like training?”

Jett looked as if he wanted to say something. He opened his mouth, hesitated, and finally opted for a simple, “No.”

“Jason Grey gave me a job when no one else would. I have a fine arts degree with a law major. I could do a lot of things. Office work. Clerking. Legal secretary. But Prescott wives didn’t work, unless it was for charity, and ex-Prescott wives have no place in this town. Waitressing was all I could get. Jason gave me a chance. I don’t call in sick when I’m not.”

“He gave you a start, Mardie. I know what loyalty is, but that’s not to say that Jason wouldn’t see you happily move on if you could find work more suited to your circumstances. Work that didn’t trigger you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Stubborn.”

“And I can probably bench-press twenty times my own weight. Ella said.”

“I’d like to see that.”

She sat up and he handed her one of the coffees. Milk, one sugar. He’d remembered. Aside from the smell of the wood stain, it was the only smell in the room. “Claire’s diaper, what happened there?”

“You owe me.”

She did. Mardie couldn’t hide her grin. “You’re kind of perfect. Not that I want to feed that ego of yours, but so be it.”

Jett’s back pocket started vibrating and he reached around and pulled his phone out. “You hold that thought,” he said as he answered it. “Lo.”

Someone started talking at him. A lot. Jett said very little, not all of it encouraging.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Not that interested. Yes, I know it’s an opportunity, but I’ve got other things on.”

“I’ll get back to you,” he said at last.

“My agent,” he said when he hung up. “They want me in Switzerland for a commentator gig.”

“When?”

“Next week.”

And there was the difference between his life and hers. He looked at her thoughtfully. “You could come with me?”

And that was nothing but pie-in-the-sky, I-bedded-this-woman-last-night, thinking.

“I have a job. A mortgage. A wooden floor in need of staining. I can’t.”

“Independent,” he said.

“And I’m going to age well. Ella says. But I can’t come with you to Switzerland.”

“Can you eat a cheese omelet for breakfast?”

“That I can do.”

“It’ll be ready in ten minutes. I’ll see you in the honesty kitchen.”

It was only Friday morning. They still had all day, give or take his work and hers.

One entire day to get her goodbye in place.

She could do it.

Just.

*

Mardie took Friday
afternoon from three to six p.m. off. Reese said she could. She picked Claire up from daycare and dropped her off at her parents and then she went home and found Jett taking the tarp away from her front porch and packing it into his truck. He stopped when he saw her and watched her walk up.

“Can I go through the front door?”

“You have a new deadlock,” he said and fished in his front pocket. “And a new key.” He handed her a pair of them. “And a peephole. Receipts are on the kitchen bench. And the stain for the deck is in your garage. It’s the same as for the floor. Same process. You need to wait until the weather’s better to put it on. Could be a while.”

“I’m going to paint the railing white. And have black-eyed daisies in pots. Claire’s going to love them.”

“Let’s hope they’re edible.”

“Good point.” She stepped onto the first step and the light came on. She headed for the front door, put the key in the lock and pushed, and the door bumped gently off the newly placed doorstop. “Did I mention how much I appreciate your attention to detail?”

“Wait ’til you get in the shower?”

“Do I have water pressure?”

“You do.”

“Genius, man.”

“I like to think so. I had to replace a few tiles though. They’re not the same color as the old ones. I got seconds.”

“What color are they?”

“Orange. But when you get under the hot, cascading waterfall that is now your shower, you won’t notice.”

“I do like your thinking.”

“I have many more thoughts.”

When she looked back, he was leaning against the pillar and wearing a really dirty smile. “Are you coming?” she said.

“Where to?”

“To christen my shower. I feel this burning need to get all naked and wet.”

“How much time do you have before you have to go back to work? Twenty minutes, half an hour?” He was right behind her, already shedding clothes.

“I don’t have to be back at the bar until six. How good’s your stamina?”

He smiled. “It’s really, really good.”

*