Taking care of my sister as a teenager had been hard enough, but when I was home, I couldn’t even sit down. Change Lynne’s diaper, dammit. She pissed herself again. Why didn’t you mow the lawn yet? The car’s past due for an oil change and I can’t fucking afford a service call. Get your ass out there.
When I looked back, I wondered how I’d tolerated it all. Day after day after day. It had been my life. I’d wallowed in guilt for not being there when Lynne had needed me. The excuse that I’d only been a kid still fell flat. I’d been a stronger swimmer than her and the reality was if I’d been there, at least she’d be alive today. Since Dad had died trying to save her, he’d probably be around, too. Chalk another life onto my conscience.
Why couldn’t I have been stronger for Lynne? It was hard to remember her. There’d been nothing left. They’d gotten her breathing again, but she’d suffered a nasty seizure and the resulting brain damage had been hard for a teenage boy to process.
The day I’d walked out the door and never looked back had been the ugliest of them all. I’d gotten home after school—no more sports for me because that took too much time away from being Mom’s manservant—and the house had stunk.
Lynne had been parked in her wheelchair alone in front of the TV. Fear had shot through me that our mother had passed, too, and how the hell was I going to care for my sister?
Mom had been asleep in bed while Lynne had festered in her feces for hours.
I’d wrestled my sister into the tub while Mom had hollered about the smell and demanded I take care of it. And I’d tried, but—
With a gruff clearing of my throat, I continued, skipping past the worst. “Without Dad to take the brunt of Mom’s unhappiness, she deteriorated. Life was hell and I…left.”
I’d almost killed my sister. Left her soaking the dried shit off her skin to go clean up her wheelchair. She’d slid under the water while alone in the bathroom.
Mom’s screaming. I squeezed my eyes shut. God. I’d never hated myself more than that moment, though most days since then had come close.
“My dad’s boss never quit checking on me. Abe owned the company I own now, but he built houses, too. That’s the company my dad worked for. I had nowhere to go, and I called and asked if he could spot me a night at a motel until I figured the rest out. He and his wife took me in and he gave me a job.”
“How old were you.”
“Sixteen.”
Her warm breath wafted over my chest. “What about your mom now? Is she still alive?”
“Yes. We’re estranged.”
You get back here and take care of your sister, you spoiled little shit.
Why so you can sleep all day?
Mom hit me up to pay for Lynne’s care. Sending her monthly payments for the group home was barely a balm for my troubled soul, but it was all I could bring myself to do. Any more and the price tag was Mom back in my life. I already proved I couldn’t care for Lynne.
“Abe put me through school, trained me on the job, and when he died, he left me his business, which I grew and expanded.”
“He’d be proud.”
I couldn’t respond. Take care of that sister of yours, son. She’s got less than you do.
Somehow, I didn’t think Abe would approve of my monthly stipend for Lynne’s expenses.
Tilly’s breath evened out. I stared at the ceiling. What would Tilly do if she found out I’d abandoned my sister? Tilly, the woman who made it her career to help children.
I’d do my best not to find out.
Chapter 11
Flynn
Rapping on the front door had me prying my eyelids open. The first sensation I registered was a firm bottom pressed against my side, then a leg draped over mine. Tilly had rolled over and sprawled in a twist. How could she sleep like that? I was flat on my back but had slept solidly until some asshole had woken me with pounding on a Saturday morning.
The doorbell rang, a sad sound that moaned like it was running low on batteries, only it was electric. Was the wiring bad?
Tilly twitched, her head popped up.
More knocking.
“I’ll get it.” I’d give it to the bastard, too.
I swung my legs down. My gym bag sat by the front door. Thankfully, I’d had the foresight to bring it in so I didn’t have to pull on my slacks. I crept out, checking the door and windows to see if anyone was going to get a view of a full moon in the early morning.
I bent over my duffel and opened it to get my shorts. As I was stepping into them a woman called from the other side. “Tilly? Are you home?”
I ripped open the door, my anger only partially mollified because it was a little old lady disturbing my peaceful morning. “Can I help you?”
The woman paused, her hand poised to knock again, her eyes on my bare chest. It was probably the first time someone other than a bed partner had seen me in a state of disarray. My shorts were rumpled, but my gym was private and in my office building. My hair had to be pointing in every direction from the way Tilly had run her hands through it and fisted it the night before.
Tilly approached from behind. “Hey, Mrs. B.”
Mrs. Blumenthal’s gaze peeled off my chest. “Tilly. I feared you weren’t home. But this young, strapping gentleman answered.”
Mrs. B may have been of average height in her prime, but she must be in her eighties now and was closer to five feet tall. Her gaze was as sharp as her mind probably was.
“Flynn, meet my landlady.”
I held out my hand. Mrs. B gave me an assessing look as her soft, wrinkled hand clasped mine in a light shake.
She switched her focus to Tilly. Had I passed her inspection? “I wanted to let you know that the roofers aren’t going to be here today. You mentioned having to leave while they were working, so I wanted to catch you early.”
“Thanks. So when are they going to be here?”
Mrs. Blumenthal heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m going to have to find a new place to do it. The owner of the company kept trying to raise the cost. I showed him the insurance estimate, I already have twenty percent to pay for the deductible, but he thinks he can con an old woman. Schmuck.”
My lips twitched. Abe would’ve liked Mrs. B.
“I’m sorry.” That was the thing about Tilly. She sounded genuinely sorry.
Mrs. Blumenthal waved her off. “It is what it is. I just hope I can get someone before the roof starts leaking. Everyone’s booked up after the hailstorm.”
I didn’t stop to consider what I was offering. “I’ll do it.”
Both women stared at me. Tilly’s smile grew wider by the second.
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Blumenthal turned her head like she was positioning her hearing aid just right.
“I’m a builder. I can do the roof. This weekend, in fact. The weather’s supposed to be great.” The more I thought about it, the better the idea was. It would be hot, but sunny. The place was small. If I worked today and tomorrow, I could knock it out. “No charge.”
Mrs. B’s mouth worked. She glanced at Tilly, back at me. “You’re a builder?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I leaned forward. “It would give Miss Johnson a reason not to kick me out.”
Mrs. B harrumphed. “I wouldn’t kick you out for eating crackers in bed.”
Tilly traced a finger down my abdomen. “Look at these. He doesn’t eat crackers.”
The ladies cackled and I couldn’t stop my smile. “My tools are in my truck. I’ll run and grab supplies.” I glanced up. “Black shingles?”
“Whatever the hell is up there.” She pinned me with a hard look again. “Seriously, though. Don’t touch a nail until you tell me how much.”
“It’s nothing. I don’t get my hands dirty nearly enough.” Life had been simpler when I could shut the lid on my toolbox and the day was done.
“I’ll vouch for him,” Tilly said.
Pride bubbled up. She hadn’t seen any of my handiwork, had never seen me hang so much as a picture. But she’d vouched f
or me. I was going to throw up the best damn roof of my career.
Tilly
I crawled into Flynn’s pickup. I was more graceful than the first time I’d scaled the distance from the ground to the seat.
“Where are we going first?”
He fired up the engine and backed out of my driveway, which barely fit his massive truck. “We’ll hit the home improvement store first. Then I have to run home for my ladder.”
I gasped and clapped my hands. “I get to see the Halstengard residence? In person?”
Flynn in his suit, even as casual as he’d been the night before, hadn’t matched with the vehicle. But today’s shorts and T-shirt fit the image better. The image fit him better, too. What would his house fit with, the suit or the truck?
I still had no clue why he needed such a large vehicle.
His gaze strayed to my legs like they had at the lake. My outfit wasn’t crazy on purpose. The clearance-rack workout leggings were covered with large blocks of bold color, but I’d muted it with a black shirt. Not intentionally—it was just an expendable shirt in case it got stained or ripped helping Flynn.
He was helping Mrs. B. He must be terribly generous with his business, too. With all he had, he must shovel tons over for charity.
He smiled and draped an arm over the steering wheel. “I’m warning you, my house is incredibly nice. Quality-built perfection you’ll have a hard time finding anywhere in the great state of Minnesota.”
Genuine pride rang in his voice.
“You built it.”
He shot me a grin that warmed me more than the late June sun. What would his perfect house look like? I’d never thought of mine. Space would be my first pick. Just space. And a kitchen like the cabin.
“Did you build the cabin, too?”
“No, I haven’t dabbled in those. They’re not much different, but I moved on to corporate as soon as Abe died.”
“When did he pass away?”
“About five years ago, but I was managing his business even during college. His wife wasn’t interested, and they had no kids.”
“He was lucky to have you.”
Flynn’s lips flattened. “It was the other way around. I tried to earn my keep. It caused an uproar when I changed the name, but the contractors who’d been with the company for years kept telling me what Abe would do. It was a clear way to tell them who was in charge.”
It was hard to see Flynn being a hard-ass. Maybe that was why he’d gone the route of changing the name. I could see him putting in long days. At the cabin, he’d never quit working unless I’d intervened. During our fishing trips and hikes, he’d fidgeted and acted nervously. I’d worried it was him being with Crazy J, but no, it was him having work withdrawals.
We pulled up to the home improvement store. It was no massive box store. The building he’d parked in front of was a quarter of the size of Home Depot.
I got out and followed him inside. A woman my mom’s age greeted Flynn with a hearty hug. His answering grin was genuine.
“Tilly, this is Dorothy, an old friend of Abe’s.”
Dorothy shook her hand. “There were some years if I didn’t have Abe’s business, I had nothing. Whatcha need, Flynn?”
He ran through a list of supplies and we cruised around the store, gathering nails, tubes of stuff, and other things while Flynn and Dorothy chattered in what seemed like a different language.
Dorothy rushed to the back of the store. “Pull around back and we’ll load the shingles.”
I followed Flynn out. “Aren’t we going to pay?”
“Dorothy’ll bill me.” He walked with easy confidence, looking like a guy out for a basketball game, more relaxed than I’d seen him. He was in his element. Dorothy was one of his people. How many others like her did he have in his life?
Once the shingles were loaded, he took off for his place. He crossed through town and hit the 494.
“You don’t live in Minneapolis?”
“Chanhassen.”
He’d told me he’d built his house, but I still pictured him in a top-floor condo with glass walls and a view of the city. “Wow, that’s a nice area. You really are like Bruce Wayne, then? Massive manor, bat caves hidden on the property. Do you have a butler?”
“I have a cleaning service and a personal chef. I don’t get company, so no Alfred.”
“I have a hard time believing you don’t get company.” She poked him in the side. “Someone had to let Becky in.”
He grunted and scowled at me. “I don’t have women over, either. It was…”
I narrowed my gaze on him. “Go on.”
He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. “It was easier if they didn’t know where I lived.”
“Solid plan.” I snorted. “You don’t have a personal assistant that’ll ‘take out the trash’ like Iron Man?”
A grudging smile lit his face. “No Pepper working for me, no. Though I’m sure neither Matthew nor his husband would object to kicking out anyone I asked them to. In fact, he gets frustrated if I don’t give him more to do.”
“You’re a total control freak.” When he turned down a long drive, I sat forward and slammed my hands on the dash. To Flynn’s credit, he didn’t jump. “This is your house? Get. Out.”
A sprawling three-story house that had to appraise in the millions was spread before us. Rock accents matched perfectly with the white trim and dark blue siding. I lost count of the arches, but every room inside must have a peaked ceiling.
And the landscaping. June was the heart of summer, and a rich green lawn surrounded the house and outbuildings that matched the style of the home. Neatly trimmed bushes lined the driveway and smaller manicured bushes rimmed the walkway to the house. To one side, a fountain spewed water next to a wide expanse of lush grass that made me itch to kick off my shoes and frolic. I might have to do that before we left.
He pulled along the driveway to a garage that took up one entire side of the massive structure. The wider of the four garage doors, doors that were nicer than any door I’d ever seen, lifted to reveal an open-bay garage.
“You do have a Batmobile.” I couldn’t identify the sports car, but it was sleek, black, and probably did zero to sixty in four seconds—if that was good for a car. I had no idea.
Flynn chuckled and parked. “Sometimes I need better gas mileage.”
He hopped out. I slid down. This garage didn’t have the musty, cracked-floor smell of my rental’s garage. There was also enough room for me to fully open the door and not have to slither against the wall. I could park another vehicle next to his truck and hang all the doors open and they still wouldn’t touch.
I couldn’t help myself. I wandered outside into the sun as he loaded a ladder in the bed of his pickup, which was now full. And that was why he drove such a massive truck.
The weather beckoned me. Sunny, a light breeze, there was nothing more summery than the smell of a freshly cut lawn. I toed off my shoes, rolled off my socks, and scurried across the driveway.
“Holy shit.” I stopped to inspect the surface. “Even your concrete is fancy.” The surface had been pressed and polished until it resembled cobblestone.
Flynn’s athletic shoes came into view as I felt up his pavement. “There’s a new company in town that does this. They gave me a deal. It was the biggest project they’ve ever done. And it’s good business for them; they can say they did a job for the owner of Halstengard Industries.”
I straightened. His green eyes paled in the sun, almost iridescent. “You like helping the underdog.”
“I don’t do much,” he muttered.
I popped up on my toes and gave him a quick kiss. “Now excuse me while I go feel up your lawn.” Spinning, I sprinted away.
The second my feet left the warm concrete and hit cool grass, I could’ve collapsed and sighed. Mrs. B hired mowers and that was as much care as my tiny stretch of lawn got. All the mowers did was beat back the weeds. I doubted there was much grass left to grow af
ter years of neglect.
Throwing my hands in the air, I ran and twirled. “This is so fun!” I should probably stop because we had work to—
A solid force tackled me from behind.
I didn’t hit as hard as I feared. Flynn’s arm banded around me to cradle me to his chest as he lowered us.
“You drive me crazy.” His voice was gruff, his hands lifting my shirt.
Breathing hard, I only helped him. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Come here anytime and do that.” He kissed me hard and released me to yank my shirt off. “But be warned, it gets me hot as fuck.”
I reached for the bulge in his shorts and palmed him. He groaned and pushed down my bottoms.
“How are we…” There was nothing but grass, and it was a highly maintained lawn, but to have sex on it?
He ripped open a condom packet. “Hands and knees.”
I jutted my chin toward the wrapper he’d tossed next to us. “Invisible utility belt?”
“Never leave home without it. Kneel.”
Ooh, I liked bossy Flynn. I did as ordered, falling to my hands. He rolled my leggings just past my ass, limiting my mobility.
Strong hands grabbed my hips and a rush of desire came with his touch. He was intense, demanding, and I liked this side of Flynn as much as when he was frantic to get inside of me.
Straddling my legs, he parted me and pushed inside. I was already wet enough for him, no foreplay other than him tackling me required.
He took me hard and rough. His hands didn’t leave my hips. He didn’t whisper words of beauty or love. He just drove into me over and over.
It was perfect. The hard smack of his balls was all the stimulation my clit needed. I reached my peak and fisted grass.
“Flynn. Harder.”
He complied. I bowed my back to open up for him. Grass ripped from the lawn. I grabbed more. He pounded me until I screamed his name.
First to Bid: A Bachelor Auction Romance (Unraveled Book 2) Page 11
