What a Bachelor Needs (Bachelor Auction Book 4)(5)
The crowd roared its assent.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce our first bachelor for the evening, Olympic gold medalist and current alpine world ski champion, Jett Casey.”
Jett stepped into the spotlight, stood tall and grinned at the old rogue whose job it was to sell him.
“He’s thirty years young and comes from the next valley over – unless of course he’s winning races, because in that case we fine people of Marietta have no problem whatsoever claiming him as one of our own. Last I heard tell; he was skiing off the side of a mountain with a parachute strapped to his back, because he needed to get back home in time to build his sainted mama a mountain cabin retreat that very same afternoon. He’s offering to take you on a backcountry ski trip, ladies and gentlemen – and I guarantee it’ll be a journey to remember. But I was talking to him earlier, folks, and should anyone not be interested in risking life and limb in service to extreme skiing, you can have him for one week and one week only as a handyman around the home. Remember that mountain cabin he built his mama? We’re talking five-star dwelling here people because when this boy decides to do something he doesn’t hold back. Two gold medals, one silver, three bronze, two World Championships. We’re talking courage and strength, and a driving will to succeed. A heart that’s more than a match for his ego…and, ladies and gentlemen, that ego is big.”
Jett nodded agreeably. All true, all big, and all his.
Come and get it.
He caught his brother’s big ass grin and figured he may as well play it up given that he was never going to live it down. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, rocked back on his heels and summoned his smuggest smile.
“Look at those teeth, look at that muscle. Pity he’s not a bull, because then I could retire and live for a year on my sales commission. Alas, he’s just your average Montana born bachelor.”
Did old Buck ever draw breath?
Because it didn’t sound like it.
“Backcountry skiing or a handyman for a week. Either way he’s yours for the taking. Do we start the bidding at five hundred, five hundred dollars for a very good cause, you tell me, five hundred, madam? Yes. We have our first bid of the evening and a generous bid it is. I’m looking for another one, thank you, there it is.”
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.”
Chapter Two
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By 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.