First to Bid: A Bachelor Auction Romance (Unraveled Book 2) Page 9

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

  “You were a kid!” I knew the feeling all too well. In my mom’s eyes, I’d morphed into the villain over time. Everything was my 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 me. “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. Sadly, the 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 my league could she get? In my career, I wanted to build the finest product I could, and my products happened to be businesses. I’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, I might finally be able to distance myself from Flynn Halstengard, the kid who let his sister almost drown and failed to help his mom.

  Tilly playfully shoved at my 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 me.”

  And I’d been raised by a woman who had no clue what that meant. My mom thought everyone had failed her. Dad. Me. 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 children. I would’ve starved if Abe hadn’t taken me in.

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

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

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

  I grasped her hand, a blush of melancholy staining my 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 my mouth. How many times had I used that line? I’ll call you. But if there was one way to redeem myself, it was to not string her along, not give her hope that I wanted something long-term.

  She glanced down at our 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 my mouth seeped down to flip my stomach. I’d almost gotten in my own way of having a fabulous weekend. My gut eased with relief that Tilly had won me and that she hadn’t been hurt further by my attempt to manipulate the bidding. “I need to take you out to eat.”

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

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

  That name. Got me every time.

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

  I looked my 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 my cock, as if that weren’t where it was headed anyway.

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

  Chapter 9

  Tilly

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

  No messages.

  No missed calls.

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

  I’d spilled my history to him. And he hadn’t wanted much to do with me after. A dam of hope had burst open inside of me when I’d laid it all out. We’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, I’d told myself it wasn’t goodbye sex. After what we’d gone through, he’d want to see me again.

  Totally.

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

  Maybe I ought to get one.

  I blew the hair out of my eyes. Yeah, and I hadn’t the first clue how to do that.

  One more look.

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

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

  I 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.”

  I 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?” I fortified myself. He’d been having more off days these last 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. I’d gotten zero teaching in, spending most of my time coaxing him into allowing me to put on 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 I had arrived.

  I 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.

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

  Score.

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

  Our 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 me and not his son.

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

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

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

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

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

  Not for the first time, I hoped Mr. Woods was serious about his enthusiasm in greeting his son and not using it as a way to get into my 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 my lips. For all his faults, Mr. Woods was one of Charlie’s favorite people.

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

  Mr. Woods was on my heels. I spun and faced his chest.

  “Oh.” Taking a step back and clutching my bag in front of me to give myself as much personal space as possible, I filled him in on my 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.” I’d be surprised if the nanny was coming. The turnover rate was high. I 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 me a smirk. His artfully coiffed hair was probably designed for the move. “Aren’t you going to stay until she does?”

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

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

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

  Flynn

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

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. A tension headache throbbed at my temples.

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

  A prospective client wanted my company to draw up plans for a luxurious retail and office complex. One of my current projects had hit a delay with the concrete that could’ve pushed the project behind a month if I 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 my 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.

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

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

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

  I confirmed the time and got my client off the phone.

  Matthew watched me, iPad prepped and ready for the instructions I 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.”

  I 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 I kept him around. If we didn’t have a professional relationship to maintain, we 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.” I listed what I’d need Matthew to do next week and shooed him out for the weekend.

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

  I should go out.

  Taking my Bluetooth out, I flung it on the desk. I stared at the floor, then dug out my phone and texted Wes.

  Whatcha doing tonight?

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

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

  Mara’s jaw drop had almost been insulting. I’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, I’d found the water line to my fridge leaking. The drywall behind the fridge was soft and warped and I’d spent the weekend replacing and repainting it. My kitchen might not have needed a repaint, but it’d gotten one. Since I’d been at it and all.

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

  Not helping. I should just go home and go to bed since I planned on rising early to work out and check job sites.

  My phone pinged. At the new Wonder Woman movie.

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

  By myself?

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

  I drummed my fingers on the desktop. The image of Tilly clutching her Wonder Woman bag flitted through my mind.

  Before I could tell myself what a bad idea it was, I 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 me?

  This guy.

  Her voicemail kicked on and I froze. Her cheerful voice telling me to leave a message yanked my heartstrings. Now that I was settled back into my daily grind, just listening to h
er highlighted the dullness in my life.

  Disconnecting, I stared at my 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 my past projects mounted on my wall, my version of the “I love me” wall. Ironically, Arcadia added the most color to my environment, with its vibrant marquis. The multifaceted display drew eyes for miles.

  Arcadia was my pride and joy, and since I’d moved on from building houses, it had also been my simplest project.

  And Mara and her partner, Chris, had been easier to deal with than John Woods.

  My phone vibrated and I almost dropped it. Flustered I said “answer” but my Bluetooth was lying on my desk. Tilly’s name flashed on the screen, along with a picture I’d taken of her standing at the water’s edge with her back to me, the Batman insignia on the ass of her bikini a stark contrast to the natural environment. I’d shown her the picture and she’d laughed and pointed out how odd she looked surrounded by sparkling blue water and lush trees, wearing a Dark Knight suit.

  I missed that laugh.

  Fumbling with my phone, I finally got it answered. “Hey.”

  “Hi,” she whispered on the other end. “Sorry I missed your call. I’m at the movies and wasn’t going to answer.”

  Her, too? “Are you with Wes and Mara?” If my friends were all out without me, and I was sitting in my office on a Friday night, I deserved to wear this stupid suit for another three hours.

  “They’re here? I didn’t see them walk in. Maybe they’re at another theater. Wanna come over?”

  “You-You're not with anyone?”

  “I don’t know anyone who’d sit through the same movie three times with me. This is my second time. I plan to get in on the 10:15 showing, too. Oh, shit, the previews are starting, I gotta go. There’s a seat still open by me. Want me to save it?”