The Bachelor's Promise (Bachelor Auction) by Naima Simone Read Free Book Online Page B

this…
    “Now, Chancey.” John held up his hands, palms up. “Like I said, I have a call in to maintenance. We’ll have to fix Mrs. Leonard’s plumbing and get her apartment and yours cleaned up and repainted. That could take a couple of weeks. At least.” When the brunette’s mouth parted, most likely to pour out another profanity-laden reply—the girl had a mouth that would make seasoned sailors go “ Damn! ”—John popped up a hand. “It’s the best I can do. I didn’t cause this mess. We all have to deal with it.”
    “Is there another apartment we can stay in until then?” Noelle quickly asked before her roommate could fire back. “One we can temporarily use?”
    Another scratch to the irritated patch on his neck. “No, unfortunately.” He winced, but hastily added, “But I’ll prorate next month’s rent for the weeks you can’t use the place.”
    “You’re damn right you will. We pay for an apartment. If I wanted to live in a pool, I’d live at the Y. Or the sewer.” Chancey scrunched up her face, but instead of yelling, she sighed, her shoulders deflating on the long, heavy gust. “I’m so sorry, Noelle,” she said. “This is horrible. You haven’t been in Boston a week, and now…this shit. Literally.” She thrust her fingers in her hair, her topknot tilting to the side like a precarious Jenga tower. “I can go crash at my parents’, but I’ll be on their couch, or else I’d take you with me. But honest to God, I’m doing you a favor not taking you there.” She shuddered. “What will you do?”
    The panic eddying inside Noelle ratcheted up. Where would she go? Her mind raced. She didn’t have family here. Maybe a motel? But she didn’t have the funds for a two-week—at least—stay. She’d handed over $1,800 for this place, and her job didn’t start until tomorrow. Though more than a little bit of dread clawed at her throat, she covered it with a small smile. None of this was Chancey’s fault.
    “I’ll find something—”
    “What the hell happened?” a new voice demanded.
    Noelle closed her eyes, the air in her lungs evaporating. For just a moment, she’d wondered how her situation could get any worse.
    Now she had her answer.
    Lifting her lashes, she met Aiden Kent’s stare.
    Damn, how did he do it? She rose from the stool, rounding the bar-style counter that separated the kitchen from the living area. Even in a simple leather jacket, a gray shawl-collar sweater, and black jeans, with water staining the bottoms and the tips of his boots, he could’ve walked off the cover of GQ magazine. Screw GQ . Hot as Hell magazine.
    His emerald gaze touched on her, traveling from her messy bun to her combat boots, then the long-sleeved T-shirt and nylon shorts that were fine for lounging around the house, and she battled the urge to fidget. How many romance novels had she read where the heroine claimed to have felt her man’s eyes on her? Before, she’d scoffed. Now, she raised her mental hands in an “Amen!” because she swore his scrutiny solidified, grew fingers, and skated over her skin, leaving twists in her belly that she would be drawn and quartered before admitting to.
    She held her breath as his perusal dipped to her legs. His mouth tightened as his eyes narrowed on the riot of color that streamed from the mid-thigh hem of her shorts and disappeared into the top of her calf-high boots. She could just imagine the scathing words trapped behind his grim, sensual lips about the artful tangle of white, violet, blue, and pink flowers with the green leaves and dark-brown tree limbs that inked the skin of her leg.
    She crossed her arms, tipping her head to the side. If he expected her to be ashamed of the body art, or care that it might offend his hoity-toity sensibilities, he would have a long wait. She smothered a snort. The truth was, she’d ceased being that shy, desperately in love girl six years ago. Today, she didn’t need his approval—or his