What a Bachelor Needs (Bachelor Auction Book 4)(27)

She glanced up at him, all eyes and hair and a too pale face. “Am I going to wake up any minute now to find that last night and this morning was all a dream?”

“No. You’re father and Seth are in the kitchen and I’m a pushy bastard. But if this was a dream, my dream in particular, you would enter that eye-strain of a kitchen in ten minutes time, and you’d be rocking a loose-limbed saunter and an unrepentant smile.”

“Why? Because it would enhance your all-conquering reputation?”

“Because it would make my day to know that I made you feel good about yourself and what happened last night with me. End of story.” He shot her a grin, hitched Claire a little higher and two pigtails with little pink bows wobbled like alien antennae. “We’ll be in the kitchen. Me, Claire, Seth, your Dad. Bonding. Slowly. And watching the wall fall down.”

Mardie’s hair hid her face for the most part as she turned away and headed for the bathroom, but he thought he saw a tiny spark of amusement in her eyes and the faintest tilt of her lips at his words.

And that was what he wanted.

*

It took a little longer than ten minutes to make herself presentable, but by the time Mardie made her way to the kitchen – wearing several more layers of clothing than she’d been wearing earlier – she’d almost come to terms with the situation. So what if her father knew that she and Jett had spent the night together? So what if Jett’s brother knew? She and Jett were consenting adults, free agents, and no-one was getting hurt. They’d been honest with each other about their wishes and expectations.

Healthiest relationship she’d ever been in.

So saunter into the room she did, and watched an appreciative smile light Jett’s face in reply. He really was impossible to ignore. Especially when he channeled all that light and focus on her.

He made her feel beautiful.

Claire sat in her high chair, a smorgasbord of food on the tray plate in front of her and not a utensil in sight. So much food that her daughter had taken to finger painting with it instead of eating it. The high chair had been situated next to the refrigerator, as far away from the wall carnage as it could get and still be in the room. Jett hovered within reach of it, clearly tending to Claire rather than working. Her father and Seth were now the ones holding sledgehammers. Possibly a good thing. Possibly not.

“Did you give my daughter the last of the red velvet cheesecake?”

“There’s more. And there’s coffee.” He poured her a glass, topped it off with milk and one sugar and handed it over. “Seth wants to know if you still want two doors into the room or whether we should fill one of them in.”

“I think two doors. They’re at each end. Could be useful.”

“What about the floor? You want the lino up? It’s all wooden boards underneath.”

“Can you do that in the time you have left?”

“Course I can.”

“He’s Batman,” said Seth. “And he’s going to try and steal a couple of my laborers for the day. Which he’s not getting. Notice how he’s doing nothing now.”

“I’m babysitting. This is hard work.”

Her father was watching them from the corner of his eye. She wondered what he thought of them. He’d always wanted sons. Instead he’d gotten her and no others. All she’d ever been was a mystery and, more often than not, a disappointment to him. “Dad, have you seen the front room yet? And the porch?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t walk on it,” said the Casey brothers in unison.

“It’s the weather,” Jett continued amiably. “We’ve got heating blankets over the concrete to preserve the strength as it dries but it’s still not a quick-dry process.”

“Drives him nuts,” Seth muttered.

“Speak for yourself. You hate waiting for concrete to dry.”

“I see the bonding’s going well,” Mardie murmured to Jett.

“Oh, it is.”

“If you lie in this kitchen you’ll turn orange and green. It’s happened before.”

“It’s not going well.”

“Do you mind doing five more minutes of babysitting while I show Dad what you’ve done?”

“If diapers are involved, I’m coming to find you.”

Smiling was so easy when this man was around.

“Dad, are you coming?”

Mardie showed her father the front room and the porch. He took it all in, and the first words he spoke were not about home improvements.

“You don’t even know him.”

“I know he’s a good man.”

“You’ve thought that before and look what happened.”

“I know better now. I know what to look for. There is no comparing Jett to Boyd.”

“It’s too soon.”

“To what? Put myself out there, even though there’s a chance I might get hurt again? Would you rather I never let another man touch me? Because, trust me, I’ve considered it. And then along came this man and I discovered that I’m not as broken as I thought. I can give and take pleasure; I can trust someone enough to let them get that close. I’m not ashamed of what happened here last night with Jett. I’m calling it a good thing.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”