What a Bachelor Needs (Bachelor Auction Book 4) (9 page)

So.

Lights.

Mardie’s indignance huffed out of her reluctantly.

Porch.

She made her way to the front door and opened it and damned if a light didn’t come on automatically and light up her porch area as well. She saw a new deck plank here and there, a new railing for the steps, but otherwise it looked much the same as always…except sturdier. She looked harder. New bolts and braces for the posts. And concrete, or so he said, although it wasn’t visible from where she was standing.

What on earth was she going to get him to do around the house tomorrow? New kitchen? Because she had a feeling if she asked for one, she’d get it.

She shut her front door and opened the door to the front room next and the scent of paint hit her. No fortress around the fireplace.

Yet.

Mardie shut the door behind her and headed for the bathroom, a dimly lit mausoleum with water pressure so slight that she could barely wash her hair beneath the spray, but wash it she did, to get the waft of liquor gone.

Jett hadn’t noted when he’d be here in the morning, maybe it depended on the ever-worsening weather.

Maybe she’d make pancakes and put a casserole in the slow cooker. Fill the house with the scent of something tasty, something for him to eat during the day. Would that be considered a regular thing to do for a handyman?

She doubted it.

Maybe she’d make the casserole for herself, and then if a teasing, dark-eyed man full of strengths and strange truths wanted something to eat, he could have at it.

That could hardly be called catering to the man or wooing him with the promise of happy domesticity.

Could it?

*

He was beautiful
under any circumstances, but when Jett walked through her back door the next morning wearing battered jeans and a deep red shirt, with the color all but leached from his skin in the face of the cloudy, menacing day and the half-assed light coming in through the kitchen window, he looked more like a poster child for beauty than a hardworking, high-performance adult.

“Pancakes!” he said, and brought out the dimples, and Claire smiled back from her highchair and offered him some of hers.

“Kiss!”

“No, honey. That’s Jett.” Probably best not to encourage either of them. “No kissing for anyone at this time of the morning.”

“Since when were mornings not made for kissing?” he asked.

“Since you and your dimples turned up in them. We have pancakes. Be content. There’s a plate for you if you want some.”

“You made me pancakes?” He glanced at the stack on the plate, affording her the perfect opportunity to admire the cut of his eyelashes.

“Did no one ever feed you as a child?”

“Yes, but eating more than your designated share was an act of war. Four older brothers, remember?”

“Do you have a special diet when you’re in training?”

“I do. And it doesn’t include pancakes.”

“Are you in training now?”

“Nope.” He smiled angelically.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to turn up this morning. The radio announcer said that some of the roads hadn’t been cleared yet. Not that I actually know where you live.”

“The family ranch tucks up against the Crazy Mountain range, about an hour outside of Marietta.”

“You drive an hour to get here each day?”

“I’ve driven further for less.”

“How do you even get out of your ranch when it snows like this? Ella can’t.”

“She can if she wants to snowmobile to the highway, and there’s a pickup in a barn there, and then she has to bribe the snowplow driver to clear the entry to the barn on their way past. Works a treat.”

Mardie had been born and bred in Marietta. It wasn’t a thriving metropolis by any means, but Marietta sure as eggs didn’t involve that kind of remote existence. “More pancakes for you.”

“Now I feel pampered.” He sat next to the high chair and accepted Claire’s mushy offering and stuck it in his mouth and won her little girl’s heart and a string of mum-mum-mums for his trouble. “Did you see the porch?”

“I did,” she said as she set a plate full of pancakes in front of him. “It looks good. I’ve no idea what you had to do to fix it, but thank you. There’s new wood.”

“Offcuts.”

“New bolts.”

“Found ’em lying around.”

“A new railing for the stairs.”

“I have a receipt for that.”

She pushed the receipt for the outside lights and the pile of money atop it across the counter towards him. “Thanks for those as well. I appreciate it.”

He looked at the money, scooped it up and pocketed it and she thought the better of him for it.

“Butter and syrup?” She didn’t run to bacon but she could offer other fixings.

“Yes, ma’am. Good breakfast.”

“Breakfast is our thing. I usually add banana to Claire’s. You want some of that too?”

“No.”

“Too much like baby food?”

“Too much like banana. I’m going to burn through that list of yours today. Tap washers, door handles, a new front door lock. Making doors close properly. And I want to clean the chimney in that front room and set a fire in there to help the floor dry. You good with that?”

She nodded.

“I’ll rig up some sort of baby proof barrier around the fireplace.”

“Right.” She couldn’t help but smile. “I’m thinking that this barrier should be a work of art. A stretch goal.”

He looked up from his pancakes and pinned her with his gaze. “Stretch goal?”

“Tony from the bar reckons he can build me a fire grid with slender wooden limbs and black mesh panels with a wrought iron river running through it. And cutout deer merrily playing.”

“Sounds like a lot of sharp edges,” he said with a narrow gaze.

“Doesn’t it? But I’m sure Tony has something planned. He has grandchildren of his own and knows all about curious little fingers. Of course, Tony can’t get to making it for a while. If there’s going to be a fire in the fireplace tonight there should probably be a grid in place tonight as well, don’t you think?”

“Challenge accepted,” he said. “I’ll use offcuts. There might even be waterfalls. And puppies.” He offered Claire a triangle of pancake dripping with syrup and she took it from him as easily as she took food from Mardie. “I’m going to need another list of things to do around here.”

“I just gave you a masterpiece to create.”

“Yeah, but that has to happen today. What about Thursday and Friday?”

“Help me bring the couch and the chairs into the front room?”

“That shouldn’t even
make
the list.”

“Can I think on it?”

“Get imaginative.” He nodded and dug into his pancakes with relish. “Man needs a challenge.”

*

Bad weather meant
fewer customers and less tips. That was the downside to Mardie’s work as a waitress. She could rely on a base wage, but the rest was dependent on customers and service. Usually, Grey’s Saloon saw a steady and generous crowd passing through, but all bets were off on this bitterly cold Wednesday, what with a snowstorm making its promise felt. Even their regulars weren’t lingering.

Mardie leaned against the counter as the last customer on the floor caught her eye, tucked a crumpled note beneath the empty plate in front of him and stood to leave. She headed for the door and opened it for him. “See you, Jim. Take care.”

“You too,” said the gruff old mechanic. “Maybe the boss’ll let you go early.”

“Maybe.” Mardie smiled brightly. She didn’t want an early mark, she wanted a bar full of people, all tipping generously. A bus full of tall strangers. Short strangers. Aliens.

Wasn’t going to happen.

She cleared the table and headed for the kitchen. Not a lot happening back here either, other than Ryan cooking up a pan full of fettuccini in white wine, cream, and bacon. “Our last customer just left,” she informed him.

“Reese told me to close the kitchen. We’re finishing up,” Ryan countered. “Come and eat.” He loaded three plates with fettuccini, reached for the parmesan cheese and sprinkled generously. One for him, one for her and presumably one for Reese. “How’s the handyman working out?”

“I have a beautiful wooden floor in my front room and a porch that no longer sways. The handyman is a magician and I’m living in the land of ask and I shall receive. How’d your bachelor date go?”

“I cooked dinner for Rachel Cassidy, the new doctor. She liked it.”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

Not quite what Mardie had heard, but if Ryan didn’t want to share…

Reese walked in and took a seat at the bench.

“Your mother called. Daycare closed early and she’s got Claire. She said she’d keep her overnight, save you being on the road in these conditions.”

Mardie frowned.

“It’s a good plan,” Reese growled. “Get some rest.”

“I’m thinking about asking Jett to knock down the wall between my kitchen and my dining room,” she said.

“Good plan,” said Ryan. “Torch the kitchen while you’re at it.”

“It’s retro.”

“It’s soul-destroying.”

“Last time I invite you to a housewarming, even if you do bring the best desserts on the planet.”

“It’s my gift.”

“It certainly is. What time are we finishing up here?” she asked Reese.

“Three.”

“Seriously?”

“Have you looked outside?”

The man had a point.

No work, no Claire, and an afternoon off. How long had it been since that happened? She could go to bed early. There could be hours and hours of sleep. On a satisfyingly full stomach.

“Is dessert going to follow this fettuccine?” she asked hopefully.

“There’s half a red velvet cheesecake in the cool room that needs eating,” Ryan offered.

Now they were talking. “Is there wine on this planet?”

There was.

‡

I
t felt odd
not to have Claire with her, decided Mardie, as she stepped through her back door. Her arms were still laden, this time with leftovers from Grey’s kitchen, but there was a definite hole in her world where a small girl should have been. The house wasn’t empty though, far from it. Jett’s pickup sat in the driveway, a radio was on in the front room and a banging noise was coming from the laundry room.

She found him in the laundry, flat on his back with this head and shoulders beneath the sink, old pipes and new scattered around him in seemingly no particular order.

“Do you ever stick to a plan?” she asked, and watched as the foot he’d been tapping impatiently against the tiles stilled and he leaned to one side in order to look at her.

“You’re early.”

“So’s the snowstorm. No customers. Are you looking to get home this evening? Because I’m pretty sure you’ve already missed that window.”

“I’m staying at Seth’s tonight. He’s got a place in Marietta.”

“Handy things, brothers.”

“I’ve always thought so. Your water pressure is a joke.” He returned his attention to her pipes and she returned her attention to his…thigh area.

“I prefer to call it quirky.” A couple of her taps had good water pressure. Others didn’t. “What are you doing?”

“Improving it.”

“Don’t suppose you could improve it in the shower as well?”