What a Bachelor Needs (Bachelor Auction Book 4) (8 page)

“I have a kissing reputation?”

“From school.” She nodded gravely. “And not just kisses. Back then, your reputation for physical enjoyment and abandon covered just about everything.”

Fair enough.

He leaned across the counter and beckoned her closer with his finger. She thought his gesture amusing but moved in closer anyway, meeting him somewhere in the middle, her head slightly tilted. “Should there be a time limit?” he murmured, stretching out that moment of delicious anticipation before they began.

“You could start sometime this century. That might help.”

Impatient.

He moved in and set his lips to the very corner of hers, nothing more than the softest of touches as he gauged her responsiveness. Her lips curved for him and she tilted her head a little more. More to explore and all of it for him and he took his time as he mapped the curve of her lower lip until she opened for him, soft and pliant.

One taste. That was all it took for him to know it hadn’t been the heightened danger or emotion that had caught him unawares that night in Bozeman. Because here in the honesty kitchen, with a bright orange Formica bench between them, his response was immediate and insistent.

It was her.

He thought about burying his fingers in her hair, but he wasn’t ready to be reminded of hidden scars, so he cupped her cheek instead and kept right on kissing. PG, mostly.

Except for the part where he closed his eyes and gave himself over to sensation as he sank into the kiss with no thought whatsoever of resurfacing.

She pulled back before he did, her eyes dark and serious, and he couldn’t resist sneaking just one more taste, and then another, before he put some distance between them.

“Well?” she asked softly.

“Pretty sure I don’t have a broken girl kink. That’s a relief.”

“Then why are you frowning?”

Maybe because he’d just found his new favorite thing.

“Kiss.” Her baby filled the ensuing silence. “Mama, kiss.”

Mardie pulled back on him completely to cross to her daughter. She bussed her lips gently against each of Claire’s rosy cheeks and then her temple.

“Kiss,” said Claire again.

So Mardie did her nose this time and the edge of her eyebrow and started making munching noises until her little girl laughed.

“Kind of free with your kisses there, lady,” he said. “And here I thought I was special.”

Her gaze turned pensive. “You are and you know it. Are you going to ask to kiss me again or are we done now that you’ve found your answers?”

“I’m going to go before I ask for everything,” he said and he’d meant it to sound like a tease but somehow it didn’t quite get there. There was too much truth in it.

The honesty kitchen had struck again. Move on. Move on fast and maybe she wouldn’t realize just how much power she had over him. “Mind if I get my brother to drop by tomorrow some time? I want his opinion on the porch fix.”

“Anytime. There’s a little more money to put towards repairs now. Ella lent me some.”

“Good friend.”

“Yes.” Mardie continued to study him. “You okay?”

“Me? Nothing wrong here.” He stood abruptly. “Except that I’d better go.”

“Kiss?” Claire asked hopefully, and he didn’t know whether the poppet was talking to him or not but he bent and pressed his lips to her baby-fine curls and got a long string of mumumum’s in reply.

“Flirt,” Mardie offered dryly.

“Me or her?”

“Both.”

“There should always be flirting,” he offered gravely, and then gave into sweet temptation and kissed Mardie’s temple as well. “Flirting is fun.”

He hightailed it to the back door, shrugged on his coat, and shut the door behind him on his way out. He let the cold and the snow try and lick some sense into him.

For two years he’d wanted answers as to what had gone down that night in Bozeman, and now he had them. That should have been the end of it, sweet dreams for him from here on in. Except at some point during that perfectly innocent kiss, the world had changed color on him.

He liked her.
Really
liked her. As in maybe there were other things in life he could fall hard for, besides skiing. As in maybe he wanted to step into Mardie Griffin’s life and stay there.

He wasn’t sure yet. It was still only Monday.

But it was enough to give a man pause.

‡

H
ang around Jett
for long enough and he’d willingly admit he led a charmed and golden life. The ski circuit had taken him all over the world, and sponsorship deals had given him more money than he’d need in a lifetime. He owned a condo up in Whitefish and a summer home on Flathead Lake, and he rented both to tourists when no one in the family was using them. He led skiing trips through Montana’s backcountry – three or four trips a season, with a maximum of half-a-dozen people who paid a great deal of money for his expertise. Some of them paid because they wanted the status that came of being able to say that they’d been extreme skiing with an Olympic champion. Some of them paid because they’d heard he was one of the safest guides around. Some of his customers actually
wanted
a ski challenge and knew full well that he could deliver on that promise. The guided tours made money and the trips were intense. He enjoyed them. They fed a need in him.

But they weren’t a full time, work like a dog, six days a week gig.

Even Seth didn’t work the kind of hours that Mardie Griffin did.

“So what do you think?” he asked as his brother pushed and prodded at the pillars and the railings of Mardie’s front porch. “Recoverable or start again?”

“Rip the deck up, secure the pillars from beneath with concrete and steel bracing, replace the outer beam and the guttering, put the deck back on.”

“What about the railing?” It seemed a little insecure in places.

“That circular section’s a custom job and you say your client’s got no money. Secure it, paint it, leave it. It’ll do.”

Jett had never been a big fan of the words ‘It’ll do’. “Her toddler’s going to be playing out here. It needs to be safe.”

“It will be.”

“You reckon I could get it done today?”

“Not on your own.” Seth had his let’s-be-realistic face on. Another concept Jett wasn’t overly familiar with.

“Got anyone you can spare?”

“Maybe I can spare a couple of hands come lunch time, but you’re only going to have them ’til three. Storm front’s coming in and the boys want to get home and get their own places sorted and I’ve already told them they can leave early. There’s no going back on that.”

“What about you? What are you doing today?”

“Don’t you have other brothers to con?”

He did. Jett was all about equal opportunity conning. “Cal and Ryder will be here by lunch time. C’mon, you can be foreman. We can get it done by three. Concrete in—

“But not dry.”

“Beams bolted—

“Assuming you can find the right sized crossbar and get it here.”

Jett nodded, because good point. “Roof secure. Deck back on. It’ll be a challenge. Pizza can be here at one. Can’t work hard and fast on an empty stomach.”

Seth’s patience with Jett’s haste to get this done appeared to be wearing a little thin. Seth was doubtless juggling half-a-dozen other priorities that Jett didn’t know about. “This is outdoor space. Your client and her daughter won’t conceivably be using this area for months. Why the rush?”

“Because it won’t get done otherwise. I only have the rest of the week.”

“Surely that’s negotiable?”

“I’d rather do it now.”

“So that your little waitress can tell everyone how fast you get things done? Can’t you give your ego a rest for once?”

“Screw you!” Temper flared, hot and unruly. “Why do you always think that I have this burning need to be bigger, better, and faster than anyone else at everything? I haven’t been that person in
years
, Seth. These days, I leave that attitude on the competition circuit, where it belongs.”

“Okay.” Seth didn’t arc up the way Jett thought he would. Seth’s voice came at him, low and careful instead. “I’m listening, man, but you’ve got to help me understand. Why does it have to be done this week? Or at all, for that matter? It’s above and beyond handyman work.”

Good question.
Fine
question. And there was only so much answer he could give without breaking Mardie’s confidences.

“Remember that woman I told you about a couple of years back? The one I found in an alleyway in Bozeman? It’s her. This is her place. And this time I aim to do what I didn’t do last time and give her some tangible, fucking help.
Now
, this week, while she still feels obliged to take it. Is that a good enough reason for you?”

Seth just stared at him.

“I have got a protective streak I can’t even
see
past when it comes to this woman. I take one look at her and all I want to do is kiss her better.”

“Hey.” Seth held up his hand for Jett to stop. “Too much information.”

“You did ask.”

“Won’t be making that mistake again.” Seth ran a hand around the back of his neck and started walking back to his pickup. “All right. Start ripping up the deck and getting the holes dug ready for the concrete. I’ll send a couple of the boys over to help and try and find you that beam. And I want spicy pepperoni on my pizza and a case of beer for every one of my workers who turns up here, regardless of whether they’re here for four hours or five minutes.”

“Done.”

“And you do not talk to me about wanting to kiss anything better ever again.”

“Got it.”

“Because I will staple your mouth shut.”

“My kissing lips are zipped.”

“Jett!” his brother barked. “No. More. Talking!”

Okay.

He loved every last one of his brothers but none more than Seth.

Seth was a legend.

*

Mardie arrived home
just before eleven on Tuesday night, turning into the drive and cutting the engine before sitting back and staring at the array of ropes and tarpaulin lit by her headlights. Someone – she assumed Jett – had covered her porch and a goodly section of her roof in thick builders plastic and tied it up like a demented present. Heaven only knew what she’d find underneath.

The path to her back door had been cleared, probably hours before, and it had been snowing ever since but she could still see it faintly, and there was some kind of light fixture tucked in under the eve, right at the corner, where there had never been a light fixture previously. Strange as it might seem, this was
her
house and she tracked these things. The light came on as she opened the car door to get Claire out. Motion sensor activated, and that was just plain handy.

Not to mention presumptuous, inevitably expensive, and not something Jett Casey needed to be doing for her.

So why the hell was he doing it?

She’d given him a list of what she wanted done this week.

Could the man not stick to a plan
at all
?

With her hands full of Claire in her carrier, Mardie scowled her way around to her back door, at which point another light came on, illuminating the steps.

“Goddammit!” And, yes, okay, maybe she’d thought about replacing the broken light out the back, and maybe it should have been on the to-do list, but still…

She stomped inside and grumbled her way through to the kitchen, turning lights on as she went. She took a still sleeping Claire and put her to bed, blessing the timer on the new heating system and the deep sleep habits of her little girl.

Claire rarely woke during the late night transfer from her grandma’s house back here.

Back in the kitchen, hands freer than they’d been all night, she picked up a note that had been left on the bench. ‘Stay off the porch – the concrete’s still setting’ the scrawl declared boldly. ‘Stay off the floor in the front room – it’s still not dry.’ There was more. ‘End of stock clearance on outdoor lights. Seventy percent discount. I thought of you.’ He’d left the boxes for the lights on the counter, alongside a receipt, and the price was beyond reasonable and edging towards a steal. Huge red stickers on the boxes confirmed the big discount.