Highest Bidder Page 2

  Tearing her hair out of its ponytails, she slid into the driver’s seat of her car. She shook her hair out and twisted it into a bun. With an eye on the time, she dug bobby pins out of her cup holder and stabbed them into her hair. Next, the suspenders came off and she dug through her tote for a lacy cardigan to go over her T-shirt. After she shrugged that on, she toed off her shoes and rolled off her socks. She sighed in relief as cool air blew across her legs. She put on the sandals she produced from her tote and fired up the engine.

  As she drove out of the lot, she frowned at the big truck taking up so many spaces. Someone was likely compensating for some deficiency in his ego.

  Not her problem. She drove as fast as legally possible to a large, sprawling house in a prestigious gated community. Her stomach clenched the closer she got.

  The kid under that roof taxed all of Tilly’s special-needs skills. But the little boy’s parents were a whole different challenge. Tilly had shown up once in her standard wacky wear and the woman’s haughty stare had withered her in her knee-high socks. Then the dad… The sky was the limit for Tilly’s anxiety whenever he was around. The more sedate and boring Tilly dressed, the more Mr. Woods hit on her—often in front of his wife.

  If she didn’t know any better, she’d just assume rich people sucked, but as her own past proved, bad behavior wasn’t confined to any particular income bracket.

  Tilly parked in the large circular drive, jumped out, and trotted to the door.

  She took a moment to compose her breathing and pat stray hairs down before she rang the bell. The door swung open.

  “Miss Tilly,” greeted the housekeeper, Berta.

  “I’m not late!” Tilly smiled and rushed past her toward Charlie’s muffled cries.

  “It won’t matter,” Berta murmured.

  The first time Berta had made such a bold comment, Tilly had almost dropped in surprise. But unlike Tilly, who stuck around for Charlie, Berta could move on and find a new job. A trustworthy housekeeper was in high demand. It was harder for Tilly to find clients who’d pay her the wage she requested and for long-term work.

  “Miss Tilly. You’re finally here.” Mrs. Woods’s nasal voice rang off the walls.

  Tilly squared her shoulders as Mrs. Woods’s heels clacked against the marble floor into the entryway. She half expected “The Imperial March” to play in the background, but Charlie’s wails would’ve drowned it out.

  The woman’s snide gaze evaluated Tilly and, from the crease in her brow, found her lacking. Like usual. Charlie’s cries hit a crescendo, then died down. Tilly twitched to run to him but had to finish with her employer.

  Mrs. Woods pushed her auburn hair off her face and Tilly blinked. Had the woman’s hand been shaking?

  “He’s in fine form today.” Mrs. Woods bypassed her and started up the stairs. “You’d better get in there before he hurts himself.”

  Tilly jogged to the special room Charlie’s parents had set up for him. Inside, the five-year-old was rocking in the corner, self-soothing. His wails had subsided. Tilly rushed to his side but didn’t touch him. He wasn’t always open to physical comfort. He drew in on himself and turned away. After several minutes, she coaxed him out. From the blank look in his eyes, she shouldn’t be too ambitious in her teachings today.

  Okay, so calm playtime instead. She could make it educational.

  Charlie snatched up an alphabet block and Tilly frowned. A red welt was swelling at his temple. It’d be black and blue in a few hours. Dang. Had he hurt himself before she’d gotten in here? He wouldn’t tolerate ice, so she continued with what tutoring she could.

  Once her hour was up, she stepped out and called for Berta.

  When the woman came into view, Tilly pointed up the stairs. “Think I can talk to her?”

  Berta scoffed. “Are you kidding? Charlie’s evening nanny arrives in ten minutes. Mrs. Woods is out for the count.”

  Tilly’s shoulders slumped. “Can you tell her that Charlie must’ve banged his head during his fit?”

  “Of course, of course.” Berta dropped her voice. “Go on home. She doesn’t pay you for her deadbeat-mom hours.”

  Tilly coughed back a chuckle. “I can hang around for ten minutes. It’s no problem.” Charlie might seem like he was in his own world most of the time, but he didn’t need to be alone constantly. Tilly doubted the nanny did more than sit and do her homework and ward off Mr. Woods’s advances—or not. She played with Charlie for fifteen more minutes before his nanny arrived and Tilly updated her.

  Back out in the late-spring air, she inhaled a long, deep breath. For the first time, she felt optimistic. She’d meticulously plotted and saved to pay back every cent that the center had sunk into her failure of a childhood. Now she could hand it over and get a date with Flynn in the process.

  A smile spread across her face. Things were finally starting to look up.

  Chapter Two

  Flynn straightened the bow tie of his tux. His stomach somersaulted and he bounced in his wing tips. Each minute that went by in the small back room of Arcadia felt like an hour. In a few minutes, he’d have to go out and strut down the runway while women fought over him. Please, let his plan work. He could not spend eight days with Crazy J.

  His phone rang and he jerked it from his pocket. His nerves were going to kill him. “Halstengard.”

  His biggest client greeted him on the other end. “I know it’s the weekend, but I’d like to touch base with you on the bank project.”

  “Of course,” Flynn said because whatever John Woods wanted, John Woods got. “How’s—”

  Before Flynn could rattle off a time, a shriek on the other end of the phone pierced his eardrum.

  John swore. “Guess it’ll have to wait until Monday. The nanny has the night off and my kid’s melting down.”

  “Not a problem, sir.” Flynn wasn’t ashamed to kiss ass when his company name and twenty million were on the line. “Just give me a couple of hours’ notice. I’ll be at my lake cabin all next week, but it’s close enough to the cities I can meet you.” He’d made sure he had good cell reception at his vacation home just so he could be accessible to clients.

  “Yeah, okay, maybe I’ll call tomorrow.” The wails grew stronger. “Ah, shit. Monday at eleven, at your office.”

  “Monday at eleven.” Flynn hung up and tucked his phone away. At least his date would get a vacation if he couldn’t, which was why he’d chosen a lake getaway instead of the Caribbean. He was never far from work, and he tried not to quit working, just like he avoided being home alone with nothing to do.

  A knock on the door jolted him out of his reverie. He opened it to a pretty brunette with a dress laminated over her banging bod. His backup plan.

  “Becky, thank God.”

  Her brows knit together and she tilted her head. “Flynn.”

  “Okay, it’s just like my text said, all you have to do is outbid everyone. I’ll cover the cost. I’ve already arranged it with the owner.”

  Wes had oozed disappointment and shaken his head, but something about Flynn’s insistence had registered. “I’m not hiding this from Mara, but I’ll kill you if Tilly finds out you duped her.”

  Flynn could live with that.

  His soon-to-be vacation buddy narrowed her eyes on him. “Mm-kay.”

  He flashed his most dazzling grin. “I’ll make it worth your while, Becky.” She knew how well they worked together in bed; it was why he’d chosen her for his desperate SOS.

  Instead of a smile in return, she scrutinized him for a moment before sauntering away.

  He swallowed a moment of guilt. Of course he didn’t want to hurt Crazy J’s feelings. She always seemed to have the best intentions, but then she blatantly stomped all over the limits. He couldn’t let her win out of pity, couldn’t delude himself that she’d be able to walk away after spending one-on-one time together. This was best for her.

  Then why did he feel a touch seedy?

  Because it was a little underhanded, and h
e owned it. He always owned his work. The plan had been laid out for Becky in his message before she’d agreed. She knew what she was getting into, but he had to admit he was afraid Tulip—Tilly would find out. If she did, then dammit, he’d explain it. He didn’t run from the hard times. Not anymore. He had built his business from the motherfucking bottom with a nail gun, and he’d done it all honestly.

  Wes popped into the doorway. “Ready, bachelor number five?”

  Flynn straightened his tie for the twentieth time. He wished he could’ve roamed the floor and worked the crowd, but Mara had felt that might start too much drama. She’d passed the fliers around with their stats and the details of their getaways. Now for his debut.

  He followed Wes out to the showroom. Blinking into the dim crowd of people, the nervous flutter that preceded his almost-cured stuttering problem flared. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to speak.

  Wes took a stance in front of the microphone and Flynn posed next to him. He scanned the audience but couldn’t find Crazy J. He mentally reprimanded himself. Probably should try to call her Tilly. Didn’t feel right. Tulip fit her much better. A bright flower that bloomed despite the dullness around it.

  God, was he going to start spouting poetry?

  He kept searching and finally found Becky, her spectacular cleavage on display. He shot her a smile, but she just narrowed her eyes at him and looked around. Was she searching for the crazy lady he’d described?

  “And now we have bachelor number five.” Wes’s deep voice quieted the murmurs in the crowd. Then someone let out a wolf whistle.

  Flynn’s gaze was drawn to the catcaller. Opposite the platform from Becky stood a pretty young woman in a flowery, flowing dress that stood out among the staid cocktail dresses.

  Wes’s introduction droned on as Flynn squinted at her. The woman might not be dressed as fancy, but she held herself well. The elegant twist in her light brown hair bared a slender neck. When she caught his gaze and smiled wide, his heart seized.

  Holy. Shit.

  Tulip “Crazy J” Johnson. And he’d just checked her out.

  He ripped his gaze away and aimed his smile at someone else. Anyone else. Any female from twenty to eighty, he didn’t care.

  “Now with all that out of the way, who’s going to open the bid at five hundred?” Wes said, he and Flynn looking out at the crowd.

  Several paddles rose. But Becky hadn’t moved.

  “Do I have one thousand?”

  Fewer paddles now. Still not Becky, but she was probably holding out until she had to step in.

  Wes played up the crowd and the tension almost stopped Flynn’s pulse. “Nice, ladies. The Center for Abuse Victims and Arcadia thanks you all for your generosity. With that being said, who wants a lazy lake vacation for two thousand dollars?”

  Three paddles waved. One was a lady as old as Flynn’s grandma. Another was a cute lady in a tight dress—totally Flynn’s type. The third was Tulip.

  He glanced at Becky. She stood with her arms folded and a brow arched.

  He swallowed.

  “Two thousand five hundred?” Wes asked.

  “Ten thousand, two hundred and twenty-eight dollars,” Tulip called out. “And fifty-five cents.”

  Flynn’s brows popped up. Murmurs of approval passed through the crowd. Flynn’s first thought was that the odd number was a typical Tulip bid. His next thought was to wave frantically at Becky. Could she hear him yelling “Bid twenty thousand!” in his head?

  Wes shot him a rueful look. “Do we have ten thousand, two hundred twenty-eight dollars and fifty-six cents?”

  No paddles went up. Tulip craned her head around, her brow creased with worry.

  Flynn caught Becky’s gaze and arched his own brow.

  She stood on her tiptoes to lean on the stage, her expression partly pissed, partly smug. “Becky’s my sister, asshole.”

  A cold bucket of panic dropped over him. He’d called her the wrong name? Oh, shit. Becky was blond, and she had a sister—Samantha—who he’d slept with a couple years before he’d hooked up with Becky. Had he mixed up their contact info? Aw, hell, he’d messed up.

  Frantically, he used his eyes to plead with the crowd. He wiggled his tie and forced a tense smile. “Come on, ladies. It’s for a good cause.” He couldn’t stand a week of hero-worship in Tulip’s eyes. Not toward him.

  “Going once…” Wes called.

  “Ladies, ladies. I’m the only bachelor with more than a weekend getaway.” Flynn swallowed hard. He’d gotten Samantha’s hopes up and hurt her. She’d counted on him. Dammit, this was why he didn’t date.

  Now Tulip was giving him a look he didn’t deserve, one full of trust and excitement that cut into dark places he couldn’t revisit.

  A week, strings-free. That was all he wanted. That was all he could give.

  “Going twice…” Wes waited two more seconds before holding his arm out to Tulip. Her eyes were bright and her smile ecstatic. She jumped up and down.

  “To the highest bidder goes Flynn Halstengard. Congratulations, Tilly Johnson.”

  OMGGGGG!!

  Tilly squealed and threw her hands up in the air. Flynn’s mouth hung open. Was he in awe of the amount she’d spent on him?

  This was going to be the biggest check she’d ever written and so dang worth it!

  Her. And Flynn. For a week!

  She’d barely glanced at the fliers for the other bachelors that had made their rounds through all the bidders. But Flynn’s prize package was a week at Lake Webber. It was halfway between Minneapolis and Itasca State Park. She’d never been there, but then she’d never been outside of the Twin Cities and their surrounding suburbs.

  Would he teach her how to fish? Ooh, she’d always wanted to go hiking. And boating. Fishing on a boat!

  This was the most excited she’d been in her adult life—in her whole life.

  Flynn disappeared backstage as Wes wrapped up the auction portion of the night. She worked through the throng of people to find Mara.

  Mara was at the counter, accepting checks from the highest bidders. Her cocktail dress had a Batman emblem sewn on the front. Tilly looked down at her own thrift-store dress. She hadn’t expected the auction to be as fancy as the black tuxes the bachelors wore and the formal wear of the attendees. But it’s not like she wasn’t used to standing out in a crowd.

  If only she had the money to bling-out cool clothing like Mara. At her friend’s encouragement, she’d ordered a few pairs of superhero leggings. The kids got a kick out of them, but they weren’t who she wanted to impress tonight—and she’d known enough not to wear them under her dress.

  Mara smiled as Tilly approached. The poor woman must be tired. Mara had taken her idea and done the majority of the work. Her pleasant expression seemed tight, but it must just be fatigue.

  “So…you bought Flynn, huh?” Mara asked.

  Tilly smiled so wide it could’ve cracked her face in half. “Yes. I can’t wait.”

  “About Flynn.” Mara hesitated and glanced at the now-empty stage. “When I met Wes, he wasn’t in a good place in his life. He was angry, self-absorbed, and…frankly, he was an asshole. We had a rough start. Well, we had an awesome start, but our rough patch was a shitstorm.” She pursed her lips, like she wasn’t sure how to say her next words. “I get that feeling about Flynn, that he isn’t ready for…a thing with someone else, that life is too much about himself.”

  Flynn, an asshole? Had he changed so much over the years? No, a kid who had raced into the girls’ locker room and saved her from littergeddon couldn’t have changed that much.

  Tilly flashed her most reassuring smile. “I’m sure he’ll be a gentleman all week. I have faith in Flynn.”

  Mara snorted. “Flynn, a gentleman.” She leveled Tilly with a serious stare. “I’ve seen how Flynn can be with women, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  A flash of irritation zinged through her. Why did people always assume she was an innocent noob? She had experienced the
dark side of people, had been betrayed by those who were supposed to love and protect her. Sorry-not-sorry, Flynn could never be as bad as her parents had been.

  She dug her already completed check from her purse. “Maybe I’ll be the one breaking his heart.”

  Mara looked like she was about to argue, but Tilly didn’t care to hear it. She slapped the check down and flounced away.

  She had thought Mara was a friend who’d treat her like an equal, but at the first chance, she’d used kid gloves, thinking Tilly didn’t know better.

  Yes, she was ecstatic to have a date with Flynn. For an entire week! But she was just as excited about the week of vacation. Summers were always difficult, with the absence of her teaching wages. She’d always filled her time with a couple of part-time jobs, places that were willing to hire her for only a few months or to fill in during holiday breaks. She’d worked her ass off building a clientele for her tutoring business, and for the last couple of years, she’d been able to get by with just her tutoring income and actually keep a few weekends to herself. But never had she been brave enough to take an entire week of no pay.

  Many attendees were filing out. A few of the winners chatted up their bachelors. She scanned those remaining but couldn’t find Flynn. She hoped it wasn’t too bold of her to explore the hallway that led to the back rooms of Arcadia. Was Flynn back there?

  She suppressed a yawn. This was much later than she normally stayed up and she had to get details from Flynn. When were they leaving? What did she need to pack?

  Men’s voices emanated from a room on her left, its door cracked open a few inches. She eased in. Wes’s broad shoulders partially blocked a shirtless Flynn.

  She stopped in her tracks. She didn’t mean to stare, but the man’s body belonged on the pages of the graphic novels lining Arcadia’s shelves. She would’ve bet her rental house on the perfection of his body, but she’d had no idea just how wide his shoulders were or how his biceps bunched as he held a hanger in one hand and his white suit shirt in the other.

  “I’m warning you, bro, don’t you dare—” Wes cut off when he noticed Flynn’s alarmed stare. Wes spun around. “Tilly. Sorry we’re taking so long back here.”