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

“Go.” Ella waved her away. “Can I give him your address?”

Mardie nodded. Smiled as if she meant it.

And then she fled.





Chapter Three




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Jett Casey knocked on Mardie’s back door at seven thirty on Monday morning.

Not that she’d been sweating his arrival since, ooh, Saturday night. She’d slept badly since the auction, her mind full of images and memories, half real and half fantasy. She’d woken at five this morning and had spent an inordinate amount of time staring, heavy-eyed, at the contents of her wardrobe in the hope some gorgeous outfit would magically appear.

It hadn’t.

In the end, she’d reached for her favorite jeans and a watermelon pink T-shirt she’d picked up in the after-Christmas sales. The color hadn’t faded yet and the shirt hugged her small frame and showcased what meager curves she had left. Half-a-dozen slim silver bangles graced her wrist – she’d been collecting those since childhood and always returned to them when she felt like a lift.

Her house was as clean as she could get it; she’d scrubbed it raw yesterday in preparation for Jett the handyman to come and make a mess in it, which was so damn stupid it didn’t bear thinking about…

And yet.

Appearances were important.

She didn’t want Jett Casey to look at her and see the beaten cowering thing he’d found hiding in the shadow of a dumpster. The one who’d stared death in the eye and thought for a second that maybe… maybe giving up would be easier than staying and fighting.

That moment, that thought, had passed. Things were different now.

Mardie had built her life back, piece by piece, into something good, something worth having. Work she enjoyed and a roof over her head. A child she loved beyond measure.

She needed Jett Casey to look at her and see that woman this morning.

The one who was worth something.

“We have a visitor,” Mardie told her mushy-breakfast-faced little girl as she unclipped her from her high chair, picked her up and wiped her face. “Time to look presentable.”

Mardie opened the door to Jett kicking snow off her step with every semblance of boyish enjoyment.

“You know there’s a shovel right there,” she said and he flashed an easy grin and picked it up and finished scraping the step with it.

It gave her time to process the sight of him in jeans, work boots, and a black outdoor jacket, because, frankly, such beauty needed processing.

She’d thought he looked good in a suit, but the rough ’n ready look worked even better on him. Casual. Competent. Sexy. And seemingly determined to squeeze enjoyment out of every minute of his day. He’d been that way at school as well. He’d made life seem big.

He set the shovel aside, kicked the snow off his boots, and stepped inside, filling the room with his presence.

“Boots can stay on, jacket can come off, whatever you’re comfortable with,” she said.

It appeared he was comfortable with his boots on and his jacket off. His jacket went on a hook by the back door and its presence there gave her pause.

He saw her eyeballing the jacket. “Not there?”

“No.” She waved away his question. “There’s good.”

It had been two years since Boyd had lit out of Marietta. Eighteen months since her divorce. She hadn’t dated since. Not that she was dating Jett Casey, fun-loving darling of the alpine skiing set; it was just that a man’s coat hanging in that spot was something new and different.

Mardie decided to call it progress.

Progress also involved a decision to look upon this man and note, with no small pleasure, the way his T-shirt clung to his chest and his jeans outlined the strong bulk of his thighs. It wasn’t a crime to appreciate the beauty that was right there in front of her.

How much time and effort did it take to keep a body primed for downhill skiing competitions? Did he insure his legs? What happened when he broke something?

Which begged the question… “Are you insured? Am I insured for the work you do here? Because, I really can’t have—”

“My brother has a builder’s license and this week I’m on the books as working for him. All the insurances are in place.” Jett held her gaze. “If you really don’t want me here, I can work something else out with the Emersons.”

“No.” Way to make him feel comfortable. “Please. Come on through. I just… I’ve never had a handyman before. I’ve never owned a house until three months ago. It’s a whole new world. Shall I give you the tour?”

Mardie babbled when nervous. She was babbling now.

“Sure.” His gaze cut to Claire. “Introductions first?”

Oh. Yes. “This is Claire, my daughter. She’s one and a bit.”

“Hey, Claire.”

Her baby stared at him, wide eyed and temporarily mute. “She’ll get used to you – and then look out. Have you had anything to do with babies?”

“Not a thing.”

“Don’t you have five older brothers?”

He nodded.

“And none of them have children?”

“Not yet, much to my mother’s dismay. She wants a granddaughter.”

“Well, after five boys, who wouldn’t?”