Highest Bidder

5. Myles

5

MYLES

Standing here slack jawed, I can’t believe that girl elbowed me. I know I wasn’t exactly friendly, but I also couldn’t stop myself from getting closer to her. She’s like a damn magnet. I could have sworn her breathing hitched when I grazed her ear. But then out of left field, right in the stomach. Damn, she smelled good, like flowers and vanilla. It’s like the scent was designed to put me under a damn spell so I don’t try to get her fired.

I don’t necessarily want her to lose the job. I just don’t want her taking mine. I can’t wait any more years to take over my mama’s bills. I make decent money, but I can’t send her as much as I would like. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to look at the screen. Speaking of the angel.

Unable to stop the smile from taking over my face, I answer. “Hey, Mama! You okay?”

“Miney, I’m sorry to call you between your jobs.”

I inwardly groan at the nickname she gave me when I was little. My father left us before I was born. I have never met or heard from him. I think she was afraid I would feel unloved or unwanted. So every day before leaving for work, she would wrap me up in a tight hug and say, “I love you. You are mine, Myles. You’ll always be all Mine-y.” She would wake me up after she would get home from her second job at night, saying the same thing. I haven’t been able to get her to stop calling me Miney since. She uses it more than my real name, which only falls from her mouth when I’m in trouble.

“Mama, you know I don’t like you calling me that,” I grumble. “What’s going on?”

“Myles Alexander Johnson.” Here we go. “I brought you into this world after twenty-five hours of labor because your big head decided to block the path out. I’ll call you whatever I want.” I can only imagine the glare she is giving the phone.

“Okay, okay, Mama.” I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Is everything okay?” We could go round and round all day, but I have a lane that starts in a little less than an hour. She would have no problem explaining to me for hours all the reasons she has for calling me Miney, and I don’t have time for that.

“Oh yes, right. My faucet in the kitchen is leaking under the sink. I put a bowl down and dried out the cabinet, but I’m not sure what to do. You told me I’m not allowed to call any fixer people. So do you want to call a fixer person, or can I do something to make it stop?”

I swear she can be madder than a wet hen and the next second, sweet as a Georgia peach. I shake my head and let out a small laugh. I became pretty efficient at fixing things growing up. Picking up stuff from our neighbor, Mr. Arnold, who took me under his wing and taught me all there was to know about tools. He stepped into a grandfather role when he didn’t have to. He died when I was a teen, but I wear his hat everyday, a constant reminder to be more like him and nothing like my dad.

“I’ll be there after my lane ends, okay? Don’t touch anything.” Knowing her, she would try to fix it and break the whole damn sink.

“Okay, okay. I won’t touch it. I’ll have lasagna for you when you come. Gotta put some fat on those bones.” I roll my eyes. She’s always making comments that I need to fatten up. There’s no way I want that to happen. When I’m not at the auctions, I’m at the gym or out at JT’s house. He lives on a farm, and I love to ride his horses. I help him with the upkeep of the farm too. “Miney, do I hear you rolling your eyes at me?”

“Mama! There’s no such thing as you hearing that. I’ll be over later. The lasagna sounds good. I gotta get going.” This woman is my world, but she also drives me insane.

“Okay, you are welcome to bring someone along with you if you want. You know I love JT. That boy is the sweetest thing there is. Or maybe you have a lady friend you’d like to bring over. I don’t know if you already had a date lined up for tonight or something.”

I groan. She is relentless. “Mama, you know I don’t have time to date.” I pull the phone away from my ear and readjust my hat. “I’m not bringing anyone over.” As the words fall from my mouth, an arm is slung around my neck.

“Is that Mama?” JT asks, leaning in to place his mouth near the phone. “Hi, Mama. I’d love to come over, especially if you’re cooking.”

I glare at JT and shrug his arm off. He knows damn well if he comes over, she’ll flirt with him all night. I’ll practically have to carry him out over my shoulder to leave. There are no boundaries for either of them.

“JT! There’s my boy.” she screeches, and I can hear how big her smile is over the phone. “Wonderful! I’ll have plenty of lasagna for all of us! I'll see you boys once you finish your lanes. Have a good sale. Oh, and Miney, mind your manners. If you were nicer, maybe you would have a lady friend to bring over to see me.”

Oh, good god.

“Okay, Mama. Love you. Bye.” I hang up before she or JT can say anything more and fix him with a glare .

“Have I told you I love your mama?” he says with a broad grin. “She’s the best!” I have to refrain from punching him right in the jaw.

“You bother me, you know that, right?” I growl.

“Yeah. It’s great.” His smile is still firmly in place. “Oh, when I was coming in, I saw the new girl, Hunter, with Marcella. I didn’t realize she was coming over to this auction right away. Can’t say I mind. She was mesmerizing. Did you see the way her hips swayed as she moved around on the block? I’m not sure how you stayed focused this morning.” He gives me a knowing smirk. I guess he noticed how I faltered and got tripped up when she started the lane. Watching her captivated me. But there’s no way I’m going to talk about that with him. He’d eat it up and act like a damn gossiping schoolgirl.

Rubbing the sudden headache forming above my eyes, I sigh. “Let's not talk about her. We literally collided when I got here, and she had the gall to elbow me in the stomach!”

JT's lips twitch, and I can see he finds this funny. “Why would such a sweet-looking thing do that?” he asks.

I drop my hand in frustration and scoff. “The little doll claims she tripped.”

Bursting with laughter, JT wipes his hand across his mouth to try to regain his composure, then slaps a hand down on my shoulder. “Oh, my god! And I thought she couldn't get any better.” He loses it again, his loud laughter blaring in my ear.

“I need new friends,” I grumble over my shoulder as I walk toward the lane.

This auction isn’t as nice as the one this morning. While that one had just one seller on my lane, this one has many different seller’s cars on one lane, which means you have to go a lot slower. Each seller walks up and shows you the price they need to be able to sell their car. About ten lanes run every Tuesday evening. They also have a bigger sale on Wednesday mornings where they have sixteen lanes running .

I walk over to the auctioneers’ meeting. I say, “meeting,” loosely. We gather around lane one, and the GM gives us the rundown and the list of where everyone is going. I’m always on lane seven. It’s not a bad lane. I’m usually done by five. I wonder where Hunter will end up. As if my thoughts conjured her, she suddenly appears, walking up in her tight-fitted jeans, showing off all the right curves. She may only come up to my shoulder, but damn, she has great legs. She locks eyes with mine, and I can’t look away. She smirks before giving me a wink, making me think she knows something I don’t.