Highest Bidder (Fanboys Book 2) Page 9

  Flynn stayed quiet, his expression grim.

  She lifted a shoulder. “So that’s my shitty life story. I’ve never told anyone. I have no relationship with my parents and my life is my work. So, that’s me. What about you?”

  ***

  Flynn needed a drink, but he couldn’t do anything that’d take him away from Tilly. “I can’t believe you went through all that. How did I not know?”

  She rolled her eyes at him.

  Yeah, he deserved that look. He’d thought of her as nothing more than Crazy J, had wanted her to walk away and leave him in peace. Asking about her life hadn’t occurred to him then, and he’d been avoiding asking the past week. Tilly was a drug. He wanted more and more and more until her absence would leave him shaking with need. Work on Monday would’ve been hard enough after the week with Tilly, but he would’ve pushed through, trying to forget her.

  As if he could ever forget her.

  He patted the spot next to him, staring her down until she trudged to the bed and plopped beside him.

  “I’m sorry.” When was the last time he’d apologized to anyone? It certainly wasn’t because he was perfect. In his business, admitting he’d done something wrong threatened his future. He worked tirelessly to make sure he didn’t have to apologize. And as for personal relationships… He didn’t see Wes and Mara enough. “I’m sorry I didn’t know everything you’ve been through.”

  “No one does,” she said quietly. “Only my parents know. I’m sure in their story, I’m the villain.”

  “You were a kid!” He knew the feeling all too well. In his mom’s eyes, he’d morphed into the villain over time. Everything was his fault in the story of Mom.

  “No.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I never had the chance to be a kid.”

  “Is that why you work with them? Children?”

  “Probably. I love their innocence and their energy and the challenge of working to get through to them, finding the way they each learn best.” A slow smile spread across her face and she turned to prop a knee beside him. “I started my own tutoring business, and someday, I want to expand my business, like get a building, have some staff.” Her grin broadened and she spread her hands wide. “A place specializing in alternative learning. I’ve been coming up with ways to raise funds, find sponsors, and offer scholarships. It’s sad that lessons cost a family a fortune. Worth every penny, but it’s hard to find the pennies, even when they know how much it’d benefit their kid.”

  “You’re unreal.” In so many ways. How far out of his league could she get? In his career, he wanted to build the finest product he could, and his products happened to be businesses. He’d aspired to get in with the movers and shakers of the city, the ones with enough power, money, and influence to build banks, office plazas, and strip malls. Once Flynn Halstengard was the go-to name for high-end construction, the guy to pay top dollar for, he might finally be able to distance himself from Flynn Halstengard, the kid who let his sister almost drown and failed to help his mom.

  Tilly playfully shoved at his chest. “You make me sound like I’m a superhero. I just want to give back to the world, to be that person who’s there when someone needs it.”

  And he’d been raised by a woman who had no clue what that meant. His mom thought everyone had failed her. Dad. Him. Abe, for not offering her monetary support. Her coworkers, for not understanding that she should be able to miss three weeks of work because life “got to be too much.” Too much of what? It certainly hadn’t been taking care of her own children. He would’ve starved if Abe hadn’t taken him in.

  But what was he complaining about? Tilly had lived a nightmare. And had still turned out better than him.

  “After tonight…” She was back to twisting her hands together. “What about us?”

  He let out a slow exhale. What about them? All he’d prepared for was a week at the lake. If the lady who purchased him wanted sex and he was willing, even better. But “a thing” hadn’t been in his plans. A thing with Crazy J had never occurred to him.

  He grasped her hand, a blush of melancholy staining his mood. “I’m not going to lie. My job doesn’t leave much room for fun. I’m going to be swamped catching up after this week.” She tried to hide her disappointment, but it was in her eyes. And she was awful at hiding her emotions. “I don’t want to force anything. Can I give you a call?”

  The question soured in his mouth. How many times had he used that line? I’ll call you. But if there was one way to redeem himself, it was to not string her along, not give her hope that he wanted something long-term.

  She glanced down at their clasped hands, a tiny furrow developing between her brows. “Thank you for being honest.”

  “It’s the least I can do. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you won the bid.” The curdled taste in his mouth seeped down to flip his stomach. He’d almost gotten in his own way of having a fabulous weekend. His gut eased with relief that Tilly had won him and that she hadn’t been hurt further by his attempt to manipulate the bidding. “I need to take you out to eat.”

  She squeezed his hand, then jumped up. Stripping her clothes off, she wiggled into the outfit he’d picked out.

  He groaned and she shot him a wicked look. “Not until after supper, Puddin’.”

  That name. Got him every time.

  “I thought spilling my guts would wipe out my appetite, but nope.” She leaned over and kicked a hip out, giving him a full view of her cleavage. “I’m starving.”

  He looked his fill of her soft flesh. “Then you need to get to my truck first. Because if I catch you, we’re not gonna make it to the restaurant.”

  She squealed and took off, her fantastic ass flexing under her shorts and rushing more blood to his cock, as if that weren’t where it was headed anyway.

  Giving her a head start suited his purpose. She really wanted to go out and what Tilly wanted, he’d give her. And the sooner they got to the restaurant and got distracted, the sooner she’d forget he still hadn’t answered her question.

  Chapter Nine

  Tilly parked at the Woods’ obnoxious home and checked her phone for the twentieth time that day.

  No messages.

  No missed calls.

  On the bright side, she wouldn’t be going into a tutoring session out of her mind with excitement that Flynn had called.

  She’d spilled her history to him. And he hadn’t wanted much to do with her after. A dam of hope had burst open inside of her when she’d laid it all out. They’d gone out for supper and back to the cabin for hot, needy sex for hours. Then woken up to have goodbye sex. At the time, she’d told herself it wasn’t really goodbye sex. After what they’d gone through, he’d want to see her again.

  Totally.

  But two weeks had gone by. She was deep into her summer schedule with no social calendar.

  Maybe she ought to get one.

  She blew hair out of her eyes. Yeah, and she hadn’t the first clue how to do that.

  One more look.

  Nothing. She wiped all thoughts of Flynn and sex from her mind. If she didn’t do it now, it’d happen when Mrs. Woods greeted her with a pained smile and found a reason to belittle her for something.

  Each time she encountered the woman, a spark of bitterness flared that Tilly had to depend on someone like her for money. Each time, she quashed it and ran through the multitude of good things that had come her way, especially the clients who weren’t condescending hags.

  She scrambled out of the car and rushed to the entrance.

  Berta opened seconds after the first ring of the doorbell. The older woman emanated exhaustion and her shoulders hung in defeat. “Uffda, Tilly. It’s been a helluva day.”

  Tilly stepped inside. “Are you almost done? I see a long, warm soak in your future.”

  Berta huffed. “I don’t think my bath salts can wash away Charlie’s screaming.”

  “Another bad day for him?” Tilly fortified herself. He’d been having more off days these las
t few weeks than normal. Well, his normal. “They’re going to need to pad his room if he keeps up his tantrums.”

  Last Monday, he’d busted his forehead open. She’d gotten zero teaching in, spending most of her time coaxing him into allowing her to put a bandage to stop the trickle of blood. It might’ve needed stitches, or those bandage strips, but Mrs. Woods hadn’t been interested. Are you telling me he got hurt again on your watch?

  As if she hadn’t known he’d smacked his forehead against the edge of the desk. It’d happened before Tilly had arrived.

  Tilly scurried into Charlie’s custom learning room. He was self-soothing in the corner.

  “Hey, Charlie.” He continued rocking, his little hands manipulating a texture cube. It was one of his favorite soothers, with different materials on each side.

  She folded down next to him, speaking softly. He wouldn’t look at her, but after several minutes, his brown gaze finally darted in her direction.

  Score.

  She worked diligently with him for their hour together, her concern growing. A subdued Charlie worried her. Could it be something as simple as a growth spurt that was wearing him out and decreasing his tolerance for the world around him?

  Their time was wrapping up when the door flung open.

  “Charlie buddy.” Mr. Woods strode in, his tweed suit jacket hanging open and his tie undone. But his ultra-bleached white smile was on her and not his son.

  Tilly was only happy to see him for one reason: she wouldn’t have to track down Mrs. Woods and update her on Charlie’s progress. “Charlie and I just finished. Can I chat with you about our hour before I go?”

  She had to be brutally specific with her request. Otherwise, he would lead her to his office to “talk.” Or back her into a wall as he “listened closely.”

  His gaze traveled down to her sedate sandals and back up her legs. Dammit, why hadn’t she worn capris at the very least?

  Oh, right. Because she shouldn’t have to.

  “Sure, Tilly. Let me give the big guy a hug first.”

  Not for the first time, she hoped Mr. Woods was serious about his enthusiasm in greeting his son and not using it as a way to get into her plain khaki bottoms.

  He squatted by Charlie and pulled him in for a hug. A piercing shriek rang out and Charlie pushed his dad away, scurrying back to his soothing corner.

  A frown pulled at Tilly’s lips. For all his faults, Mr. Woods was one of Charlie’s favorite people.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” She said her goodbyes to Charlie, grabbed her tote, and crept out the door.

  Mr. Woods was on her heels. She spun and faced his chest.

  “Oh.” Taking a step back and clutching her bag in front of her to give herself as much personal space as possible, she filled him in on her observations of Charlie’s behavior. “So, I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m still making progress as far as teaching him shapes and colors. He’s learning.”

  “Great. Yeah. Is the nanny coming tonight?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Mrs. Woods.” She’d be surprised if the nanny was coming. The turnover rate was high. Tilly assumed it was for two reasons: they got tired of Mr. Woods’s advances, or Mrs. Woods sniffed out the too-close working relationship.

  His voice dropped an octave and he tilted his head to give her a smirk. His artfully coiffed hair was probably designed for the move. “Aren’t you going to stay until she does?”

  “I’m really sorry, but I have another client after this.” She sidled around him. “Have a good night.”

  “See you next week, Tilly.” He made it sound like a promise.

  She shuddered. That man was an egocentric, selfish, rich dick who was too used to people jumping through his hoops. Only an hour a week she had to deal with him. He had no more control over her life than that.

  ***

  Flynn sat back in his desk chair and propped his feet on the glass top, his Bluetooth in his ear. His cleaning crew would curse him later. The other half of the desk was a standing workstation and he had a ball chair pushed in the corner. But it was the end of a long day after an especially rough week, and he wanted to lounge for the few minutes he’d been able to all week.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. A tension headache throbbed at his temples.

  He’d done nothing to relieve stress since he’d come home from vacation to a pile of emails that’d taken him days to comb through.

  A prospective client wanted his company to draw up plans for a luxurious retail and office complex. One of his current projects had hit a delay with the concrete that could’ve pushed the project behind a month if Flynn hadn’t fast-talked any and every contractor in the city that provided cement. And then there was John Woods, who jabbered on the other end of his earbud.

  “We’ll need to reschedule Monday’s meeting,” Woods said. “I have to bang my nanny. It’s her last day and I never know if the missus is going to hire a fatty or not.”

  What a dick.

  Flynn stared at his computer monitor, tapped a few buttons, and pulled up his schedule. When it came to those writing the checks, he scheduled meetings in person. His assistant, Matthew, was awesome, but it gave the moguls the warm fuzzies to feel like Flynn was at their beck and call. And he sort of was. “No problem. Tuesday?” Please not Tuesday. His day was packed with meetings and he wanted to sneak in jobsite visits in his off hours.

  “Damn. My day is crazy. Let’s talk over drinks. Seven?”

  Flynn’s eyelids slid shut. Cocktails with Woods was the last thing he wanted to do with his Tuesday evening. Any evening. The guy commented on the boobs of every female who walked by. Flynn constantly rode the line of humoring the man and trying to ignore the perverted remarks, deciding on the minimum he could say so he didn’t antagonize a top client, yet not sell his soul downriver for money.

  He confirmed the time and got his client off the phone.

  Matthew watched him, iPad prepped and ready for the instructions Flynn had been in the middle of before Woods’s call.

  “Change the Woods meeting on Monday to seven Tuesday at the usual place for drinks.”

  “Ugh, I hate that place,” Matthew muttered, clicking through the instructions. “It’s like a pretentious watering hole for egotistical giraffes that need to neck-whack each other into thinking they’re glorious, elegant creatures.”

  Flynn snorted. “That’s so damn accurate. We all have our vices, I guess.”

  “And Mr. Woods’s is boobs and nannies. I’m tempted to tell Bryant to pull him over one day, give him a ticket, and make his community service to quit being a shitty husband.”

  Matthew’s candor in private was half the reason Flynn kept him around. If they didn’t have a professional relationship to maintain, they could be friends. “Do it, just not until after we’re done with his bank.”

  “I hope I don’t have to give you a big ole ‘I told you so’ over Mr. Woods. He’s trouble.”

  “He’s an asshole with money who can build a bank. I don’t discriminate.” Flynn listed what he’d need Matthew to do next week and shooed him out for the weekend.

  Sighing, Flynn rubbed his face and checked the time. Eight o’clock on a Friday night. The sun was still out and the clubs were probably coming alive.

  He should go out.

  Taking his Bluetooth out, he flung it on the desk. He stared at the floor, then dug out his phone and texted Wes.

  Whacha doing tonight?

  It was a long shot, but maybe Wes would be free and they could hang. The first weekend home from the lake, he’d spent all night on the floor of Wes’s rec room, getting his ass kicked by Mara. She had the new Zelda game for the Switch and had schooled him. He’d almost skipped it, knowing Tilly questions were inevitable.

  All he’d said was that she wasn’t what he’d expected and he’d spent the week doing whatever she wanted, like fishing and hiking. Not a lie. All the sex they’d had was between him and Tilly.

 
; Mara’s jaw drop had almost been insulting. He’d spent the rest of the evening avoiding Wes’s pointed looks and managed not to answer any more questions about Tilly.

  The second weekend, he’d found the water line to his fridge leaking. The drywall behind the fridge was soft and warped and he’d spent the weekend replacing and repainting it. His kitchen might not have needed a repaint, but it’d gotten one. Since he’d been at it and all.

  And now he’d arrived at his third weekend by himself. His old routine of finding bedmates for each night held no appeal, but his body constantly reminded him that he missed sex. He missed curves, Harley Quinn bikinis, a breathy laugh, a needy sigh, the way Tilly arched back into…

  Not helping. He should just go home and go to bed, since he planned on rising early to work out and check jobsites.

  His phone pinged. At the new Wonder Woman movie.

  The new one was out? He could go watch a sexy Amazon kick ass in a leotard.

  By himself?

  No deal. But Wes was with Mara. His friend would probably go again if Flynn asked, but he didn’t feel like being a charity case.

  He drummed his fingers on his desktop. The image of Tilly clutching her Wonder Woman bag flitted through his mind.

  Before he could tell himself what a bad idea it was, he had Tilly’s number pulled up and hit dial.

  There was no going back.

  It rang. And rang.

  Shit. Who’d been a dumbass and assumed she’d be perched by her phone, waiting on him?

  This guy.

  Her voicemail kicked on and he froze. Her cheerful voice telling him to leave a message yanked his heartstrings. Now that he was settled back into his daily grind, just listening to her highlighted the dullness in his life.

  Disconnecting, he stared at his office. It was chic. Modern. Contemporary. It also lacked color with its glass desk and its black streamlined furniture that made the gray in the carpet pop. Well, there was the blue sky in the pictures of all his past projects mounted on his wall, his version of the “I love me” wall. Ironically, Arcadia added the most color to his environment, with its vibrant marquis. The multifaceted display drew eyes for miles.