What a Bachelor Needs (Bachelor Auction Book 4) (3 page)

The bidding took off, good natured and lively, and Jett peered through the spotlight and winked at wide-eyed Josh-the-kid as the price increased. Josh was sitting at a side table in the front with his mother, and it could have been Jett sitting there in a wheelchair given some of the fool stunts he’d pulled over the years. It could have been anyone.

This time, it was a ten-year-old boy whose path through life had been irrevocably altered.

By the time Jett stepped out of the spotlight he’d been sold for two thousand three hundred and thirty five dollars, to someone in one of the back booths, and Jett wouldn’t have been surprised if half the people in the audience thought he had wings and the other half thought him capable of building them a marble palace within a week.

Jett shook Josh’s hand and Molly’s as well, nodded his thanks to auctioneer Buck who’d done good by him, never mind the ego dig, and then he turned his attention to Lily who was eyeing him downright fondly.

“How does it feel to be objectified?” she asked, and he tried to look halfway offended.

“Is that what you call it?”

“I swear I know just the place for you if you ever want to try stripping for a living.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, although his sponsors would probably have a fit, or maybe some of them wouldn’t, best not to put ideas in anyone’s head. And then his brother was beside him, placing a beer in his hand, and wasn’t that a fine notion.

“Do you
ever
get sick of the limelight?” Seth muttered, and the answer was never, not ever. He enjoyed every minute of it.

“C’mon, it was funny. You enjoyed that.”

His brother responded with a deadpan stare.

“
I
thought it was funny.”

Nope. Nothing.

Brothers.

“Who bought me?”

“Emersons. Booth three, over by the window.”

“Bless ’em.” Emerson Holdings ran a stud cattle herd, commercial fat cattle, and a livestock trucking company. Old man Emerson had a reputation for fairness and a daughter with a double-barreled name that he couldn’t quite recall. He did, however, know she’d won the annual ski-mobile race across the mountains a couple of times, which was no small accomplishment. “Better go see what they want.”

‡

B
y the time
Jett had made his way from the stage to table three, Buck was telling the crowd that half the tips they gave to the waitstaff here tonight had been earmarked for Josh and Molly and that the ever loving, ever generous, never gruff owner of Grey’s Saloon – one Jason Grey – had offered to match whatever his staff donated in tips. Buck then proceeded to let the crowd know that Jason would be downright
appreciative
if people sought him out and thanked him for his generosity. Hugged him, even.

The ever taciturn Jason Grey glared bullets at the leather-faced auctioneer who tilted his hat to the man and blithely asked for a rousing round of applause for their sweet, sweet host.

And got it.

“Mardie!” Someone held up a twenty dollar note. “Tip.”

Mardie collected it with a wide, wicked grin. It was good to see her again, Jett decided.

It was especially good to see her standing on her own two feet and brimming with attitude and confidence.

If anything, it was a relief.

He turned back towards the table of two men and four women, and offered his handshake all round. “The pleasure’s all mine, people. Who bought me?”

“I did,” said the blonde with the cornflower blue eyes. “I’m Ella Grace Emerson, soon to be Ella Grace Emerson-Sawyer.” She gestured to the big guy sitting next to her. “This being Sawyer.”

Jett nodded. “Congratulations on the upcoming nuptials.”

Sawyer offered up an easy smile. No lack of confidence there. No posturing either. Both of which were good things if Jett was going to be taking them into the backcountry on skis.

“So what can I do for you? Ski trip?”

“Tempting,” Ella said. “But right now we’re a little more interested in your handyman abilities.”

“Even better.”

“And here’s why,” she continued as Jett stepped back to allow Mardie to pass by with a tray full of empties.

“Mardie, hold up,” Ella said, and Mardie slowed to a stop and turned towards them with the same kind of I’ll-smile-for-anyone expression he’d seen on waitstaff the world over. Did she even remember him from that night?

Maybe not.

“Hey, Jett. Looking good up there,” she offered, and she sounded almost friendly, except for a slight tremor in her voice her voice and a faint hint of something that sounded a whole lot like fear.

“Mardie.” For once in his life, he didn’t know what to say. “Been a while.”

“Yes. I haven’t seen you since school.” Don’t, her eyes said. Don’t go there.

“Something like that,” he offered carefully, and watched her relax just a fraction. He didn’t know what to make of it, other than, yes, she did remember him from that night. And didn’t want him talking about it.

“I’m pretty sure the bar can spring for a drink,” she offered. “What’s your preference?”

“I have a beer somewhere. Just a matter of finding it.”

“Mardie, how do you feel about letting Jett and his handyman skills loose on your place for a week,” Ella said.

“Wait!
What
?” Mardie looked…unwilling. “But, you can’t.”

“Why not? It’s not as if he’s going to lack for things to fix.”

“But.” Mardie shot him a swift glance, her cheeks suffused with soft color that hadn’t been there earlier. “He’s yours.”

“Yes. And I need to give him something to do next week. You were the one who told me to buy him. You said he was good people. It’s perfect. He might even be able to get your front porch to stop swaying in the breeze,” Ella coaxed. “Then you could use your front door to get inside your house and not have to clear a path around to the back every time it snows. Wouldn’t that be a
good
thing?”

“Ella, I know you mean well but I can’t take him. Please… can we talk privately about this?”

Mardie didn’t wait for Ella’s answer, just grabbed her by the hand and dragged her off; drinks still balanced effortlessly on the tray in her other hand. Jett watched them stop about ten feet away, before turning back to find every set of eyes at the table fixed on him.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said. “If I don’t have Mardie’s permission to do the work, it’s not happening.”

“Agreed,” said Sawyer easily. “Mardie said you helped her once.”

“Yeah, I’m a regular boy scout.” Jett returned his attention to the two women deep in heated conversation. “How bad’s the house?”

“It’s a dump.” Sawyer had an accent. Australian, Jett guessed. “Mardie’s little girl, Claire, has just started walking. If nothing else, the place needs toddler-proofing.”

“She still married to Prescott Junior?” Try as he might he couldn’t keep the contempt from his voice.

It earned him a sharp glance from Sawyer. “No.”

Good.

“Boyd Prescott doesn’t live in Marietta these days, said the brunette sitting opposite Sawyer. “He’s moved on.”

“What about the rest of the family?”

“They’re a little harder to shift. Apparently they belong.”

Pity. Jett locked gazes with her momentarily, pretty sure they were of the same mind, because the brunette suddenly grinned.

“Liking you more and more,” she said.

Jett smiled and turned his gaze on Mardie and Ella Grace again, just as Mardie shook her head to signal no,
hell no
, and Ella started talking even faster.

“They could be a while,” Sawyer said. “Ella likes getting her way. Mardie’s stubborn and independent.”

“So what’s
their
relationship?”

“They’re old school friends.”

Funny. Jet didn’t remember Ella from school at all.

They bickered like sisters. Or, like the way he imagined sisters might bicker, given that he didn’t have any in order to know this firsthand. “They could be there all night.”

“Yep.”

Jett sighed heavily, because somehow… he wasn’t quite sure how… that right there had become his problem. “I should intervene.”

“You should,” Sawyer said approvingly. “While I watch from here.”

*

“Ella Grace, I
don’t want him. I can’t use him. Even if he’s God’s
gift
to home repairs I don’t have the money to so much as buy that man a box of nails. What’s he going to work with? Thin air?”

“You’re really running that low on money?”

“Yes!” Mardie hated admitting it, especially to her wealthy friend who’d just dropped a couple of thousand dollars on a bachelor she didn’t need. “And don’t you dare start trying to give me things. You start down that road and we may not be able to remain friends. Drop it, Ella. Please.”

But Ella had that determined glint in her eyes. “A porch that doesn’t sway. Think about it.”

“I’ll fix it when I have the funds.”

“Locks on doors and windows.”

“I have a system.” Granted, it involved wooden rods and bits of chain, but it worked.

Ella Grace folded her arms in front of her and studied Mardie intently, looking for cracks and finding them. “
Child
proofing. Safety locks on cupboards. Doorstops. Window stops. An indoor play area. An
outdoor
play area for the summer. Fencing. Safety gates.”

“None of which will happen if I don’t get back to work.”

“What’s the bet Jett can fix plenty of things without having to buy any new materials at all?” Ella said.

“What’s the bet he can’t?”

“You are so stubborn.”

“Me?
Me?
”

“Problem, ladies?” It was him, Jett Casey. Even better – and bigger – up close than he had been from a distance, and he smelled like every good thing that had ever come Mardie’s way. A hint of woodsy cologne with a warm base of man-scent underneath. Strange that she still remembered the way he smelled after almost two years. Or maybe not so strange, given that she’d had her face pressed against his chest for long, long minutes while they’d waited for an ambulance.

“I was just… saying…” Dammit, couldn’t the man have gotten a little
less
gorgeous over the years?

“Jett, do you come with your own tools and nails?” Ella asked blithely.

“It’s called a toolbox. Every handyman has one.” He answered Ella but he was looking at Mardie and his eyes were assessing. “I also have access to a barn full of new and old building materials. My family’s allergic to throwing anything away that might come in handy later. My great grandfather started it.”

He’d overheard them talking about money, more specifically, her lack thereof. Mardie felt her face heat. “I’m sorry. I appreciate the opportunity to have you work on my house, but the timing’s just not right. You two should go skiing instead. It’ll be fun.” She tried on a smile for good measure. “Don’t give her any kind of head start. Fair warning.”

“About that.” This time he ran a hand around the back of his neck and glanced in Ella’s direction. “I’m off the mountain for six weeks because of injury. Buck probably thought it best not to mention it.”

Ella Grace beamed. “See?” she told her friend. “He’d rather be a handyman for a week than go skiing. C’mon, Mardie. Jett gets to recover from injury, you get some things fixed around your house, and I get to feel good about helping Molly and Josh.”

“And me,” Mardie muttered.

“Everyone’s a winner.” Ella Grace nodded. “Especially if I swear to demand my pound of flesh out of you at some other time and in some other way. Say yes.”

“It’s no problem,” said Jett, weighing in, and Mardie watched helplessly as a rogue’s smile lit his face and took him from beautiful to breathtaking in an instant.

She wanted to help him, she did. She
owed
him, and if there was any way to balance that out a bit she’d take it. But this didn’t feel like her helping him; it felt like charity and she hated being on the receiving end. “What did you injure?”

“The anterior cruciate ligament in my left knee.”

“Bad for a skier.” She knew that much. “What about this year’s World Championship events?”