What a Bachelor Needs (Bachelor Auction Book 4) by Kelly Hunter Page A

man.”
    “You’ve thought that before and look what happened.”
    “I know better now. I know what to look for. There is no comparing Jett to Boyd.”
    “It’s too soon.”
    “To what? Put myself out there, even though there’s a chance I might get hurt again? Would you rather I never let another man touch me? Because, trust me, I’ve considered it. And then along came this man and I discovered that I’m not as broken as I thought. I can give and take pleasure; I can trust someone enough to let them get that close. I’m not ashamed of what happened here last night with Jett. I’m calling it a good thing.”
    “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
    “I know. And I might. Jett might drop me as quickly as he picked me up and that will hurt. But he’s not going to hurt me in the same way Boyd did. That is never going to happen to me again. I’d speak out. Get help. I would turn to you this time, I’d confide in you more, and I’d listen to what people were trying to tell me. I’m listening now. To Jett. To my own thoughts. And I’m listening to you. So if you really don’t like Jett Casey or the way he’s treating me, or if you know something about him that I should know, I’m right here and my ears are open.”
    Her father closed his eyes and gathered her close. “I don’t know the first thing about the man. Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll know more. And if he steps a foot wrong, you come to me this time. You hear?”
    “I will.” Mardie stepped back, tried to pull herself together. “So what do you think of the house now?” Her father hadn’t been its biggest fan. He’d looked at it and seen the work and not the promise in it. “It’s getting better, isn’t it?”
    “I think it’s going to be beautiful.”
    *
    Mardie refused to let her thoughts linger too much on Jett as she worked her shift at Grey’s that night. The snow had settled, the plows had been through and people were out and about again. Their regulars were in their regular places, casual drinkers and diners had come in, bringing voices and laughter with them, not to mention tips. Good trade, steady trade, and along with that, a dozen or so bikers had pulled into town late and taken up residence in the back room of the bar. Reese had frowned when they’d first come in, but they seemed peaceable enough. They drank plenty and tipped well. They kept to themselves and commandeered the pool table and played a few games – badly. Mardie’s fingers itched for a pool cue and some chalk, but Reese shook his head in silent warning.
    No hustling this lot – they might not take well to a waitress showing them how the game was played.
    “Another round for the bikers,” she told Reese who slanted the group an assessing glance.
    “Last one.”
    “They’re not going to like that.”
    “Sad.”
    “There’s a lot of them.”
    “Jason’s on his way and so are Bee and Trey.”
    Jason, the Saloon’s reclusive owner could be downright scary when he wanted to be. Bee was their only female bouncer, and those she couldn’t sweet talk out of the bar got a glimpse of the dark ops mercenary she’d once been. Trey was a Sheenan – enough said. And Reese could more than hold his own.
    “If things go south, you head for the kitchen and stay there,” Reese said.
    “My pleasure.” This was the part she didn’t like about working at the bar. The confrontation that flared up occasionally. The violence that rolled in on someone’s shoulders and made everyone uneasy.
    She never slept well after a fight night at the bar. Too many memories and all of them ugly.
    Mardie slipped behind the bar and started unpacking the dishwasher. She’d unpacked, restacked and started the washer in the time it took Reese to pour twelve shots of vodka.
    Reese was on the go-slow when it came to serving the bikers their next round of drinks.
    “They’re going to want their beer as well.”
    Reese reached for a lone beer glass. “It’s