Highest Bidder (Fanboys Book 2) Read online

  She grabbed a nearby tote and withdrew a bag of pretzels.

  “Uh, no thanks.” He slid the plate toward him to keep the carb load off.

  “I can’t have a sandwich without a side of salt.” She ripped the bag open and put a handful of pretzels on her plate. Then she started constructing her own sandwich.

  Flynn waited to take a bite until she was done. It was something Abe had insisted on when he’d lived with him. Ladies first, boy.

  But this was Crazy J. Still, he couldn’t do it.

  She wiggled onto a stool next to him and dug in. They ate in silence and each minute that ticked by returned his stress back to normal simmering levels. Would she be this mellow for the entire week?

  “Do you want another?”

  He jerked his gaze to her, then to her empty plate. He held the last two bites of his sandwich.

  Wiping her mouth off, she scooted off her stool and went around the island to open the bread.

  “N-no.” He grimaced. “No, thanks.” Two sandwiches when dinner was a couple hours away? He’d have to run today after all.

  Her gaze met his and the corner of her mouth lifted. She cinched the bag and puttered around the kitchen, putting away the rest of her items. “I wasn’t sure what you had for cooking capabilities here, but I brought some spaghetti and macaroni and cheese.”

  Pasta and processed cheese? Ick. He lost a couple more abs just thinking about them. “I’ll run to town and grab some steaks; they have an awesome butcher shop. I usually grill when I’m at the lake.” He didn’t get away nearly as much as he should, but he’d made sure to equip the cabin with wicked grills—propane and charcoal.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” She set her hands on her hips and drew his eyes to her abdomen. She wasn’t a stick. She possessed curves a man could get lost in. And she didn’t seem shy about it. “This is a really nice kitchen. Like, nicer than I’ve ever gotten to use, but I can’t…” She stopped, chewing on her lip.

  “Can’t what?” Weird. Usually he wanted Crazy J—shit, Tilly—to stop talking, but now he hung on her dropped sentence.

  “I was so busy saving to donate to the Center for Abuse Victims that I didn’t have extra for steak that wasn’t discounted. I’ve never stepped foot in a butcher shop, but they’re expensive, aren’t they?” She waved it off. “That’s okay. I can make myself spaghetti.”

  He stared at her, tallying up the comments she’d made. Landlady. Nicer kitchen than she’d ever used. Discount meat. Saving to donate?

  “How long did you save for the auction?”

  Pausing over the groceries, she worried her lip and the cutest little furrow developed in her forehead. “Um…for a while. Way before the auction.”

  “You were going to donate anyway?”

  “Yep.” She resumed her organization of the kitchen. The cabin had come fully furnished and she inspected every cupboard. He didn’t even know what was in here. All he ever had when he came here was beer—his vacation indulgence—steak, and the occasional brat—no bun—if he was feeling naughty.

  “How long did it take you to save the money?” He couldn’t quit pressing the topic. He could’ve bought every bachelor at that auction and paid for all the getaways besides. But she’d lived off pasta and clearance steak to donate a specific amount.

  No. Tilly wasn’t going quiet now.

  She continued her search. Straightening, she had a set of nested mixing bowls in her hands. “These are so cute. I have to bake something just to use them.”

  His mouth watered. Bake what? Brownies. He fucking loved brownies. Cake. God, could she make caramel rolls? Abe’s wife had nurtured through sweets and Flynn had gained twenty pounds after he’d moved in, even with working on the jobsite all day.

  Tilly squatted to tuck them back in and the image seared itself into his brain. A fantasy of her in that position over him. He’d devour her.

  He caught himself and grabbed the nearest bottle of water. Gulping, he smothered the lustful thoughts of his high school nightmare.

  Crazy J. Crazy J. Crazy J.

  Except the longer he was around her, the less crazy she seemed. He knew nearly nothing about her beyond those three years she’d tormented him with her crush.

  Wait…she hadn’t answered his question. “You saved for a while then, huh?”

  She stood and brushed her hair back. He wanted to run his fingers through it. “A few years, yeah. Once I got settled into a teaching job after school, then I could start putting it away.”

  “Why ten thousand two hundred and twenty-eight dollars…and fifty-five cents?”

  Her gaze darted to him. “I like to be unique.”

  His bullshit meter went off. Super. She was supposed to show up, act like a zany sit-com reject, and drive him insane. But instead, she was leaving him a trail of breadcrumbs, and despite his no-carb discipline, he couldn’t help but snatch each one up in an effort to get closer. Tilly was intriguing.

  Chapter Four

  Tilly’s panic rippled like the waves on the gorgeous lake peeking through the trees. Flynn had a suspicious look in his eye, like he knew she’d lied. She never fibbed. She just never got close enough to anyone to have to explain her reasons for some of the things she did. Or answer those dreaded questions about growing up. She got that not many people experienced the nightmare she had, but it didn’t mean she wanted to share it.

  Her gaze rebounded all over the kitchen. She felt guilty as hell, all because she couldn’t tell him why she’d donated the amount she had. One day, she knew she’d meet someone and grow to trust them enough with her story, but not Flynn. She didn’t want to be the battered child around him. The blond, built, walking fantasy was her escape. What daydreams would she get lost in if she lost the one of Flynn?

  “Want to give me the grand tour?” she asked brightly.

  His light brows popped up. Subtlety wasn’t her strength. She scurried out of the kitchen, hoping he would follow.

  “Where should I put my bags?” Retrieving hers from by the front door, she spun around and hit a wall of man chest.

  “Tu—Tilly.”

  She tipped her head back. He was so much taller than she remembered. He’d had a growth spurt after she’d dropped out. “What?” she squeaked.

  He gazed down at her, concern in his emerald irises. She wanted to cry with frustration. How many years had she wished to make Flynn feel more than flustered? But she didn’t want his worry. Like she didn’t want his pity. She couldn’t win, and he was starting to make her feel like Tulip Johnson. That was a place she couldn’t go back to. A shudder ran through her.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  Damn, he’d noticed. “No. I…” Lying hadn’t gotten her anywhere, so she’d spare him a kernel of truth. “I don’t like talking about myself.”

  Those lust-inducing lips of his curled into a smile. “Then it’ll be a long week if you have to listen to me prattle on about work.”

  They stood less than a foot apart, but neither one moved. “What is it you do? Mara said you were in construction.”

  Pride highlighted his features and it looked good on him. Before, much to her own chagrin, she’d thought he’d looked arrogant. “Corporate construction. I own my own business.”

  “Wow.” Some people had it all. Logically, she knew he’d worked for it, but…she’d worked pretty damn hard, too, and this cabin blew away any place she’d ever lived. But he probably hadn’t had loser parents to overcome.

  “I built Arcadia.”

  “That place is gorgeous,” she breathed.

  Little lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes and her belly clenched. One tiny imperfection that made him suddenly human and attainable.

  He was still so close, the heat of his body surrounded her in a cocoon she never wanted to leave. In high school, she’d always chatted with him on his heels. He always had to be somewhere in those days. It was nice that he had slowed down now, even for just a moment.

  “It’s one
of my favorites.” His voice had dropped low, husky.

  “I’m sure it helped that your client was your best friend.”

  “My best friend’s wife. The place is hers. She made him keep his hands off.”

  “What else have you built?” She swayed closer, the distance between them shrinking to bare inches.

  His gaze dipped to her cleavage and she should’ve died a little that he’d caught her in a swimsuit she’d never usually wear. But Mara had given her a deal and Tilly had walked out with three swimsuits for the price of one.

  His gaze licked up her neck and she shivered. Another move that didn’t escape his notice. He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

  “Cold?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  He dropped his gaze to her lips and his head bent.

  OhGodohGodohGod. Her eyelids drifted shut and her lips parted.

  He hovered over her mouth, but didn’t touch her. She opened her eyes as he straightened.

  He cleared his throat and spun around. “Your room. I forgot, sorry.”

  So it was like that. She snagged his elbow and stalked in front of him. She was so not missing this opportunity.

  Grabbing his face in both hands, she rose to her toes and smashed her mouth on his.

  He stumbled back in surprise until his back hit the front door, but then he snaked his arms around her. His lips went from tense with surprise to supple under hers. Within a second, he took control and kissed her back until he stole her breath. Palms flat on her ass, he pulled her flush against him. To save her balance, she circled her arms around his shoulders.

  Oh yes. His tongue swept in and she opened for him. He was heat, man, and lingering sandwich. She rocked into him, anything to ease the quivering in her sex his kiss caused.

  His arousal grew between them, a hard length as big as her imagination.

  Who’s a lucky girl? She deepened the kiss, causing her belly to rub against his erection.

  He jolted, his head flinging back and hitting the door.

  “Ow, damn.” His firm grip was now on her upper arms as he sidled out and around her.

  Once he let go, she pressed her fingers to her temple. Her head was spinning! He kissed even better than she’d fantasized. But he was uncomfortable, for whatever reason. She tried not to be offended, but she would’ve been just fine letting things run their course right here against the door. On the floor. She didn’t care.

  “Well, we got that over with.” She said it more to cover the hurt that he’d pushed her away. Had she done something wrong? None of her exes had ever complained.

  His brow furrowed, and he swung his gaze back toward her.

  She shrugged. His gaze flickered, like he was going to check out her cleavage again but didn’t.

  “It seemed like we were going to and then you almost walked away, so I got it over with.”

  “Got it over with,” he echoed.

  Bobbing her head like this was an ordinary conversation, she smiled. “Yep. Now you can show me my room and I can go dip a toe in the lake.”

  “And I’ll go grab my protein for the week.” He frowned. “Steaks. I eat meat for protein.”

  “I gathered that. You must work out.” She shot him a wicked smile, but he looked as dazed as before. Always with the awkwardness. “Have a good drive.”

  She hitched her luggage and breezed past him, but when she got to the hall by the stairs, he said, “The sleeping areas are in the upper level.”

  Changing course, she muscled her luggage to the first stair, but it was lifted out of her hands. The way Flynn jogged up the stairs, his jean shorts snug around his epic ass, the suitcase didn’t weigh as much for him as it did for her.

  She followed him to the landing at the top. Three doors surrounded a seating area. Slowing down, she did a one-eighty. What a beautiful setting to plan tutoring lessons. The logs gave it a rustic appeal, but the plush carpet was soft enough to sleep on. The chairs were all overstuffed and faced the railing that overlooked the rest of the cabin. The beams that arched across the ceiling looked close enough to swing on.

  “This place is breathtaking.”

  She got no reply. Treading along the path Flynn’s shoes had left in the carpet, she peeked in each room. One was a bathroom with—

  “Oh my God, is that a jetted tub?” Flipping on the light as she charged in, she gasped. “It is!” She clapped and jumped up and down.

  Flynn finally appeared in the doorway of what must be her room. “It’s small, though.”

  “Are you serious? Small is a bucket to wash out of. This is heaven.” Hopefully, he took that as a random comparison and not a literal one. Technically, it’d been a basin.

  She turned the light off and went to the door Flynn wasn’t standing in. “Your room?” Not waiting for his answer, she walked inside. “Whoa. Everything in this place is so nice. You even have your own bathroom? How many bathrooms does this place have?”

  “Three. And there’s a hot tub on the back deck, but I have to get it ready.”

  She sucked in a breath; otherwise she was going to squeal and she knew he didn’t handle that well. “You better not be lying.”

  He gave her a steady look. “It’s just a hot tub.”

  The kitchen. The tubs. The whole stinking cabin. He owned his own business.

  “You’re rich, aren’t you?”

  Some high schools were in better neighborhoods than others. The one she’d gone to had never been about personal wealth, but there had been a ton of wealthy kids, several that had made her school life hell. She’d never realized he was one of them.

  “I do all right.”

  The look she passed him had to be droll. “‘All right’ isn’t a small jetted tub and a hot tub on the deck of your vacation home.” When his expression turned guarded, she clarified. “There’s nothing wrong with having money. It’s about perspective. I’ve never sat in either tub.” For a long time, she’d barely had a pot to piss in—literally. “I’ve never had a fridge the size of my car. I’ve never owned my own home, much less two. And that’s okay, too.”

  He cocked his head, but she kept going.

  “I’ve never been to the lake before, either. To you, this might be a normal getaway, just a typical break in your routine, but this is my first vacation ever. I’m very glad I get to have all these new experiences, and to do it with someone I know.” Not alone, like she’d always been.

  When the words had spilled out, they felt right. But he was gaping at her.

  Enough chitchat. She had brownies to bake, a lake to swim in, two tubs to relax in, and only seven more days to do it in.

  Flynn hauled her bag into her room. As the list of things Tilly hadn’t done grew longer and longer, Flynn had felt smaller and smaller. She’d always been the wacky girl who lusted after him. Now she was becoming a person, one clearly better than him, though that wouldn’t be hard. She was a special education teacher. As soon as she heard about what he’d done after graduation, she’d think he was the lousiest human to have walked the earth.

  He was about to castrate himself for that kiss, and it didn’t matter if his hands still begged to be filled with her flesh.

  Where’d she learned to kiss like that? No hesitation, no coyness—full throttle, like the girl herself.

  Just as that thought completed, she hooked her thumbs in her waistband and dropped her shorts.

  His breath froze. Long legs kicked the shorts away. He wanted to lick his way up her body and wrap them around his waist. Her swim bottoms were cute as fuck with the matching top, and the combo set her gray eyes sparkling.

  She looked around and spotted the bag he’d set on the luggage rack.

  He should leave, but she was going to go digging in that bag and his feet wouldn’t move.

  Da-yum. The erection that had finally flagged roared back to life. She bent over the bag to retrieve something from inside and he stared at her ass the whole time.

  Other women, he’d know th
ey were doing this on purpose, but Tilly seemed absolutely unaware of the effect she had. She straightened and reached back to gather her hair.

  He suppressed a groan. In the full-length mirror on the opposite wall, her breasts rose with her arms in the air, and he stood riveted the entire time she gathered her hair into a messy bun.

  “Is there a path to the lake?”

  He couldn’t answer right away. How hard would it be to crowd her back to the bed and rip that suit off with his teeth? One flick of his wrist and he’d be buried in that wet heat.

  Her head tilted. “Are you okay?” She glided toward him, her hand going for his forehead. “You look flushed. You aren’t running a fever, are you?”

  He caught her wrist—and found himself in the same damn position as earlier when he’d been about to kiss her. It was even harder to remember why not.

  “Flynn?” Her eyes grew wide. She swallowed hard, her gaze glued to his hand.

  His name should’ve been a cold splash of reality, but it was her reaction. He loosened his grip.

  Fuck, nothing he was doing was working. He could move out for the week, but that would negate the bachelor contract and be rude as hell.

  “I’m trying to stay away from you,” he said instead.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her lips turned down. “Do you want to?”

  “No.” He snarled the word. “You had such a big fucking crush on me in school—I wasn’t going to lead you on.”

  “But you want me?”

  “Yes.” He still gripped her arm, but his thumb caressed her skin.

  “Did you want me then?”

  Some of his aggression eased. “No.”

  Her arm went limp and he let it go. Ah, hell. He’d hurt her feelings.

  She glanced away. “You were always awkward around me. I didn’t know it was because you didn’t like me.”

  Okay, this was working. This was creating distance between them. He’d keep going as much as it hurt him. “I called you Crazy J.”

  Her eyes flared, first with shock and then hurt. “I…I…didn’t know.”