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

“And he’s flirty,” she said darkly. “Men, women, mountains – that man will flirt with anything.”

“Have you considered flirting back?”

“Considered and rejected as a catastrophically bad idea. The man’s a globe-trotting athlete. I am a bar waitress with an attention-loving one-year-old and a thirty-year mortgage. What good could possibly come of it?”

“Relationships are allowed to be flexible, Mardie. Casual, even, as befitting the needs of both parties. There could be breakfast in bed, given that you work evenings. There could be mountain tops on your days off. Potentially, there could be extreme sexual satisfaction. Tell me that’s not appealing.”

“To me, yes. But why would that be appealing to him?”

“You have a very poor sense of self, let me just state that for the record. And there is no point explaining what any man might see in you if you’re not prepared to listen. Why would I waste my breath?”

Mardie blew out her own breath and watched it condense as it hit the cold air. “I’m listening. Tell me what he might see in me.”

“Strength, resilience, and a determination to succeed. Don’t tell me a world-class athlete won’t value those qualities highly.”

“Maybe.”

“I also see too much stubborn pride – Jett, however, might see it as independence. And like it.”

“One can hope,” she murmured, for Ella’s benefit.

“I see beauty that is ageless. Anyone who looks at you sees that. As for you not being athletic enough for the world champ, you deliver vast quantities of food and drinks to people every evening. You can probably bench press twenty times your own weight. You’re like an ant. Ants are sexy.”

“You’re telling me I’m a stubborn, sexy, ageless worker ant.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Ella said.

“I bought him a chocolate éclair.”

“Excellent. Keep me posted. Hey, I asked around and it seems that Jett really does have the building skills advertised. He and his brothers are fully capable of building a house from the ground up, so don’t be shy about asking him to tackle bigger projects. He’s there to work. When he’s not flirting, that is, because you’re flirting back.”

Mardie knew manipulation when she heard it. “You just want him to fix the porch.”

“Yes. He can do that for you. And I’ve been thinking about what you said about not having the funds to fix it right now. It doesn’t have to be that way. I can loan you enough to buy the materials he needs.”

“Ella—

“Get it done. Make it safe. Don’t waste Jett Casey’s time and skill on work that you can do yourself. Get him to do something big.”

“But—

“Offering you a loan doesn’t make me the Queen of Lost Causes. Accepting the offer doesn’t make you weak or incompetent. We’re friends. Friends help each other out all the time, back and forth, and so it goes. Let me help you this time,” Ella pleaded.

A no hovered on her lips, an automatic response based on years of conditioning. Don’t ask for help, because you’re not going to get it. Don’t ask for anything, and you won’t be disappointed. Mardie opened her mouth to say no once again, and then she remembered Jett’s words of this morning, and how he too had wanted to help her more and been refused.

Different circumstances, definitely.

But his desire to help had been as fierce as Ella’s was now, and maybe, just maybe she could bend a little.

Mardie closed her eyes, gripped the phone a little tighter and let down her defenses bit by bit. “Okay, yes, lend me some money and I’ll get the porch fixed. But you’re getting the money back with interest.”

*

There was a difference between the way Jett tackled a job and the way others might approach it, decided Mardie, later that afternoon. He had energy to burn, which was the first difference. He didn’t let up, didn’t stop for a breather, he worked harder than anyone else she knew and by five thirty that afternoon the floor in that front room was baby-bottom smooth, dust free, mopped to perfection and ready for staining.

She’d watched him clean up behind himself every step of the way. Nothing got left out for Claire to find and put in her mouth, buckets got emptied, mops rinsed and put away. And then he’d headed out to his truck and stripped down to nothing but jeans. He’d picked up some snow and rubbed it all over his face and neck before wiping himself down with his Henley.

She leaned against her front doorway and watched, and he knew damn well he had an audience. It was probably why he’d done it.

“I do have a shower,” she said. “You want to use it?”

“Nah.” He scratched at his hair and then shook it for good measure. “Wood dust, man. It gets everywhere. What time is it?”

“Five thirty. I don’t know what hours you usually work, but I’d say you’re well into overtime.”

He shrugged and wasn’t that a pretty sight, what with all that skin and muscle rippling. He reached into the cab for a clean shirt and tugged it over his head and Mardie didn’t know whether to sigh with relief or regret.

Did he know the effect he had on the libido of others?

Mardie was going to go with yes.

People looked at him with appreciation, and he knew it. Permission granted. No big deal for anyone involved.