Fuck. He did not need that image in his brain. He tightened his grip on Stanley’s leash.
A man walking toward them shot a look of red-blooded appreciation at his assistant. He gave the man a fuck off look and steered her away. If one more man’s gaze raked over her body…
“What’s wrong with you?” She went to pull her hand away, but he tightened his grip.
He angled his head and looked down at her. “Nothing.”
“Stop holding my hand. Every time a hot guy smiles at me or wants to stop and chat, you shoot the guy a death-ray stare. It’s annoying.” She pulled her hand completely out of his grip and glared up at him.
“Annoying?”
“Yeah, annoying. We’ve set the boundaries, remember. We both know where we stand, so stop it. There are some cute guys here, and you know with the auction coming up, there could be a potential mouth-watering, juicy man coming my way.”
He stopped dead and. squinted down at her. “A mouth-watering, juicy man?”
She jolted beside him, her face red. “Well, yeah. I’d love to find me a juicy specimen of a man.” She glanced up at him. “I’m thirsty.”
“Would you like me to get you a cup of man juice?”
Her eyes widened, and he could have sworn she murmured, “Maybe.”
Before he could even digest her words, she walked up a small hill and called, “You coming?” over her shoulder.
Yeah, in about two seconds if I don’t get the image of your mouth…
Fuck. After discreetly rearranging parts of his anatomy and with yet another guy on approach to her, he climbed the small hill. He shot the guy a dare me, I’m in the mood look. The guy held up his hands in mock surrender. Mason joined her as she rooted around in the bag of fudge, effectively ignoring him.
Stanley lay down close to him—close but not touching. He rested his hand on the dog’s head and concentrated on rubbing his soft fur. He was fairly certain the distance between them was closing, just like the distance between him and the end of this deal. Soon it would just be him, another house, and pristine space. His hand stilled on the dog’s head. The food from earlier balled in his gut.
Billie drew her knees to her chin, trained her large hazel eyes on his and asked, “So what’s in your future, Mason? Where do you see yourself in ten years’ time?”
He scratched the side of his neck. “Where’s this coming from?”
She shrugged. “Just curious. I was imagining I’d still be here, hopefully with a couple of tired kids who’d eaten too much cotton candy, had ridden the Ferris wheel one too many times. Maybe one would be competing on their stroppy Shetland pony named Howard. Just wondered where you’d be.”
He edged away, but she was in sidle mode, so he gave up and let her move in. If he tried to maintain the space between them, they’d be tumbling down the hill in a few minutes.
“In ten years, I’ll be doing what I’m doing now. Buying houses, renovating then flipping them.”
The sinking sun caught Billie’s hair, turning strands the color of copper. Her head dipped as she sifted through the bag of fudge as if looking for the right square. “Don’t you ever want to live in any of the houses? Do you ever want to stay, put down roots, and become part of a community? Connect?” She popped a piece of fudge into her mouth.
His eyes were drawn to a teenage couple who walked hand in hand at the bottom of the small hill. The teenage girl held a giant rasta-banana plushy toy in one hand and her beaming boyfriend’s hand in the other. They ducked behind a canvas stall and kissed like only teenagers could do. “Nope. No roots, no ties. Just the road and me.”
“See that couple down there?” She indicated with her head to an older couple that had to be in their eighties. They sat on a bench, the woman’s head on her husband’s shoulder, his arm curled protectively around her.
“I want that to be me and my man. Old and still in love. I want that kind of life. Maybe I’ll find that man tonight.” She paused before continuing. “Maybe it’s time I find a man who wants me.”
She held out a silver bag with the words NOLA’S-CAN’T STOP AT ONE stamped across in a purple font. “Want some?”
“No, thanks.” He scanned the immediate area looking for Councilman Andrew. He should be out there breaking down barriers, talking the talk, selling the tourism Takahashi would bring to their town. But he knew as soon as he did, Billie would have a posse of men circling. Frustration and a weird possessiveness shrank his skin.
One more hour and then they’d leave here, and Mason would personally turn up at the Councilman’s door tomorrow offering his bodyweight in copper coil. One more hour, then he’d be shot of this place.
He turned to tell her he was going to work the crowds, but she popped another square into her mouth, and he forgot what he meant to say. A smudge of powdered sugar clung to her lips. “You’re not going to eat all those bags of fudge, are you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Seriously? The women I’ve dated wouldn’t eat one square.”
Irritation flashed in her eyes. “I think you’re wrong there, Slim. Any woman sitting at home alone on a Saturday night watching her favorite movie, would. Or like me when I play Scrabble with Stanley, who cheats by the way.” She patted Stanley’s head. “We wouldn’t have one piece of chocolate left out of a king-size block.” She paused, and he caught the hitch of emotion in her voice. “You know, we’re pretty much all the same underneath. Women, I mean. We all kind of want the same things.”
Her flowery scent filled his lungs, and he swallowed.
She edged closer. “Someone who loves them for who they are. Who wants the same things in life, that kind of thing.” The wistfulness in her voice belied the flippant wave of her hand.
“Did you have a good marriage?” he asked, the words slipping out of his mouth. Her surprise after their tumble on the couch led him to believe her marriage had been less than fulfilling. Not that it was any of his business, but what kind of guy didn’t make sure his woman’s needs were met?
A shadow moved across her face. “James and I married out of high school, each thinking we were so right for each other. We talked about why our marriage didn’t work. He just wasn’t into me. We remained kind-of friends, not really BFF’s but not apathetic, either. We both used the marriage as a way of escaping. I wanted roots, and James wanted to escape the life his parents had mapped out for him.” She paused before continuing. “James didn’t like to show or give affection. He hated holding hands and…ah, other stuff.”
She avoided his eyes. Yeah, he knew what she meant. He didn’t understand the man and what he’d missed out on, though.
“We divorced. It wasn’t messy.” She gazed at the striped carnival tents below. “I want to be a lover in a marriage, not a friend. I want to be the first thing he sees every morning and the last person at night. I want to be his one and only. I want my heart to stop when he walks into a room. I want to be loved so deeply nothing on this earth could keep us apart.” A tear hovered at the corner of her eye. “I think every girl wants that.”
He felt the urge to comfort her, but he’d already shown too much affection. He couldn’t afford to do anything that might end up driving her away.
Her spine stiffened and she wiped her arms across her eyes. “Sorry, you probably wanted a sharply barked yes or no, but I went ahead and offered up the unabridged version, Forty-Two style.”
She was so different here away from the office environment. Happy and with an openness that was a tonic to his soul. He wanted to say something, but what? He wasn’t exactly bursting with emotion. So he said nothing, just watched her face morph from pensive when she glanced at him to downright ecstatic when she looked in the bag of fudge.
She licked some of the candy off her fingers. “So you’re never going to marry? Find your one and only? ”
He almost answered her honestly. Her frankness had put him off his guard. In a matter of weeks, they’d both be gone from here, each walking separate paths in life
, but she’d opened up to him, given him the unedited totally Billie version of events. She deserved an honest answer, even if he didn’t want to give it.
“I was married. It didn’t work out.”
She sat upright. “You’re divorced?” she whispered.
He angled away from her and shrugged. “Yes. You only get perfection once. I had it, didn’t look after it, and it ended.”
She tipped her head onto her knees and looked at him, her forehead creased. “Who said you only get one shot? Maybe there’s another type of perfection out there.”
Her soft tone pulled at him. He drew in a painful breath before releasing it in one long hiss. Before he could close his mouth, words tumbled out. “It’s all too fucking hard. I’m not up to hitching myself to another human only to watch her walk away.” He cleared his throat of its sudden hoarseness. Fuck. He didn’t need to be doing this right now and especially not with the woman sitting beside him leaking empathy and softness.
Her hand touched his. He started to jerk his away, but she grasped his hand and held on fast. “Just because your marriage didn’t work out, doesn’t mean that you give up on trying to find that one person out there for you,” she said, quietly holding his gaze.
He closed his eyes against the sting of pain and breathed through his nose. “I found the one person for me, she left, end of story.”
He stood, and she jumped up beside him, scattering bags of fudge. This was done. This was fucking done.
She opened her mouth to speak, and he cut her off.
“Are you listening to me?” he said through his teeth.
She got right in his space, her fingers curling around his biceps. “Yeah, I’m listening to you. Are you hearing me?”
“Yeah, I hear you.”
Her warmth cut straight into tight muscle. “Do you?” she whispered.
A male voice boomed over the loud speaker. “Would all entrants in the auction please make their way to the main arena.” He closed his eyes and sent a prayer upwards.
“Billie!” an attractive woman with dark hair and smiling blue eyes yelled as she came closer, and his assistant moved away. She looked between him and Billie and either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the arctic thunderstorm brewing between them. “You must be Heathcliff. Sorry, I mean Mason.” A shy smile lit up her face. “I’m Sarah. Billie and I are throwing ourselves on the mercy of the Footsteps Bay males today. I’ve heard talk around the town, and I think the bidding for Billie is going to be fierce. I’m not kidding. The bank has put up its lending rate, there’s been so many people applying for loans.”
Billie gasped. “Sarah!”
His gut twisted into a tight ball. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and thrust his hand at Sarah to accept her handshake. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Come on.” Sarah dragged Billie toward where a line of people were making their way into a large canvas tent. With a shaky smile and pale face, she mouthed for him to take Stanley.
He nodded and let out a painful, silent breath. His eyes tracked his assistant until she disappeared into a sea of people. He should leave. Get her to text him when she wanted to be picked up. Picked up. Those two words sat like dynamite in his brain. Yeah, she’d be picked up. He didn’t doubt Sarah’s words. There’d be a lot of interest in Billie McLeod.
His teeth were mashed so tight, pain shot through his jaw. All he wanted was mutually beneficial sex. No ties. A good time had by all. But when Billie had curled around him and whispered his name as she’d drifted off to sleep, something big pounded into his chest until he thought he was having some sort of cardiac event. But he knew deep down what it was. It was his heart beating for the first time in years.
And she wanted everything in the world he didn’t. She wanted roots. He wasn’t the kind of guy to stay in one place. She wanted a family, kids, Christmas lights, fucking jam festivals. He wanted solitude and no fucking condiments.
Stanley sighed deeply beside him. The day was drawing to a close. Carnival rides with spider-like arms spun through the air, screams and laughter an exclamation point. A woman walked past with a sleeping baby on her shoulder, his lopsided little hat covering one eye. A man followed holding the hand of a grumpy toddler whose face was screwed up and red. Mason turned away.
Not far from where he sat with Stanley, a giant white tent sat in the center of the festival. Inside, he knew, the auction was taking place. Bouts of silence were punctuated by shouts of laughter and applause coming from within.
He shouldn’t give a shit. He really shouldn’t.
“Come on, Stanley, let’s go.” He patted the dog’s head, and for the first time, the dog leaned against his leg and looked up at him. “Good boy,” he whispered, running his hands along the length of the dog’s body. Stanley hadn’t trembled when he’d patted him. He smiled at the dog then gathered Billie’s countless bags of fudge, slipped into the back row of the tent, and eased into a plastic chair, Stanley a sentry at his side.
He craned his neck, searching the crowd for her dark hair.
Nothing.
Maybe he was too late and she’d already been won. He tightened his grip on the dog’s lead, trying to breathe past the cold ball sinking in his chest.
A booming voice from the center of the stage asked for silence.
“Our next entrant loves fudge, never wins at Monopoly, and wants a goat called Ethel as her lawnmower. She’s been a good sport putting herself up for auction today, helping raise money for Tim Clarke’s guide dog.” He nodded toward the front row. “Will you please put your hands together for Billie MacLeod.” Councilman Andrew at last. Mason should move closer so he could talk to the man as soon as this was over, but when Billie walked on the stage, he sat, frozen, his eyes locked on her.
Wolf-whistles and a round of loud applause heralded her entrance. Her face was bleached of color, and she gripped her hands in front of her, her shoulders stiff.
“Can I start the bidding at fifty dollars?”
Mason could only stare, his useless body and brain not in synch.
“One hundred dollars.” A man two rows in front of Mason waved his hand at the auctioneer.
The air in Mason’s chest hardened. He willed his brain to forget the image of her calling his name, her eyes locked on his.
“Two hundred,” came a cry from somewhere in front of him. Still Mason kept his eyes closed, ignoring the twisting in his heart and the beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.
A voice cut through the murmurs. “Five hundred.”
“One thousand.” A guy to his left shot out of his seat.
Mason stared at the man, willing him to look his way. He frowned and looked closer. He recognized the guy. Jesus, he’d pulled up in the parking lot on a fucking tractor. The fact he was wearing clothes that looked like they’d seen a washing machine a quarter of a century ago appalled him.
A hush fell over the hall, and all Mason could hear above the thudding of his heart was the shuffling of shoes. What started as a light applause grew louder.
“Do I hear a bid above one thousand dollars?”
Mason craned his neck to check out the audience, to see if someone else would bid. Someone willing to show Billie the world. Someone less likely to fulfill her request for a goat lawnmower.
“Going once…” The auctioneer looked around. “Going twice…”
“Ten thousand.”
Chapter Seven
Billie scanned the sea of shocked faces. Who said that? Was this some kind of sick joke? She waited for someone to yell, “Gotcha,” then run away flinging Monopoly money at her.
A hush filled the tent as the crowd turned toward the back.
The auctioneer shifted from foot to foot. “Right…um…do I hear an advance on ten thousand?”
The weight of expectation pressed down on her.
“Going once.”
Crap.
“Going twice.”
Was it Hector?
“Sold, if you know what
I mean, to the gentleman in the back. A night out with Billie MacLeod.” His gavel hit the makeshift desk with a resounding whack.
Silence filled the hall. She peered through the crowd, searching until a shape materialized. Her lungs stopped working. Piercing blue eyes held hers and wouldn’t let go. The man walking toward her was a testament to what made a woman unconsciously play with her hair. He ran his hand across his forehead, exposing a flash of tanned stomach. For some insane reason, she noted there was no underwear band. She’d been doing the laundry for a while now, and it appeared the man went commando quite a bit. Her eyes dropped to the zipper on his jeans, and she licked dry lips.
Man Magic, walking her way.
A slow rumble of applause turned into a roar.
The man moved like fluid. Even with his mouth set, his long legs ate the space between them easily. Even in a plain tee and faded jeans, he owned his clothes. The man would ooze male hotness even in nothing more than bobby socks and pom-poms.
He held out his hand.
She’d become a statue.
A twitch danced beside his eye, and he started to get that pissed-off look she had come to know well.
“Take my hand,” he rasped.
The room faded until it was just him standing before her, his hand outstretched. “What are you doing?”
“Take my hand, Billie.”
She grasped his hand, his fingers wrapped around hers, and he helped her from the stage. Sarah morphed into view, her eyes huge, sporting a shit-eating grin with her thumbs up. Her brain still in meltdown, Billie let Mason pull her towards Councilman Andrew, a wide grin on his face.
“I’ll drop off a check in the morning,” he told the man. “And I’d appreciate ten minutes of your time.”
She blinked.
Right.
She sucked in a breath and turned her head, allowing him to guide her and Stanley from the tent to his car. She couldn’t shake her surprise and didn’t understand why she was shocked. Despite their chemistry, despite everything she’d thought she’d found in him, he hadn’t bid on her for personal reasons. He’d done it for an in with the council.
Winning the Boss's Heart Page 9
