Page 103 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

“It’s Dean,” I finally admitted.

“Dean? What about him?”

“I think it might be real with him.” The words felt strange coming out of my mouth, like they belonged to someone else. “I don’t know how that happened. He’s this grumpy, closed-off mess of a man who can barely string two sentences together when it comes to feelings, but…” I trailed off, unsure how to finish.

“But he’s Dean,” Alexis supplied with a small smile.

“Yeah,” I said, laughing softly despite myself. “He’s Dean. And for some reason, that seems to matter more than it should.”

Alexis leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms thoughtfully. “Okay, so what’s the problem? The job or Dean?”

“Both,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “The job is everything I thought I wanted. But now that it’s here, it feels wrong. Like I’d be leaving something—someone—behind.”

Alexis nodded slowly, her expression knowing. “You’re scared.”

“Terrified,” I admitted. “What if this thing with Dean isn’t real? What if I give up this incredible opportunity for something that falls apart?”

I couldn’t stop thinking about how he showed up for me. The way he’d built my bookshelves without being asked. The way he looked at me across the dinner table with my parents, like I was something precious.

Now there was this town—the bakery next door that knew my coffee order, the lake at sunset, the people who greeted me by name on the street.

And my brokerage. My dream, finally taking shape.

Alexis watched me, probably reading my thoughts. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with your parents lately, haven’t you?”

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the chaos in my head. “Yeah. It’s been nice. Really nice. I forgot how much I missed them. How much I missed this. You. The town. All of it.”

Being back in Larkspur Lake had given me something I didn’t even realize I’d lost. Time with my mom and dad, who were just down the road instead of a plane ride away. Time to sit at their kitchen table on a Saturday morning, sipping coffee and listening to my dad’s stories about his latest fishing trip—or lack thereof, since he seemed to spend more time untangling his line than actually catching anything. Time to help my mom in the garden and listening to her run through the gossip she picked up at her book club.

“It’s not just them.” I sighed. “It’s the little things too. All those little things make it feel like home. A real home. The city is—I don’t know. Different. I would walk past two hundred people in a day and never see a smile or have someone say hello. It’s lonely. Here, it’s totally annoying to have all my business put into the local paper, but it’s also funny. People care. That’s what I think about at the end of the day.”

Alexis smiled softly. “Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind, Portia. You’re just too scared to say it out loud.”

I shook my head, frustration bubbling up. “It’s not that simple. Dean isn’t exactly the kind of guy who makes promises. He doesn’t do plans or commitments. I can’t just assume he’d want me to stay. And even if he did, what if I’m basing this whole thing on some fantasy? What if I’m just romanticizing him because he’s Dean Jackson? The guy no woman has ever landed.”

Alexis raised an eyebrow. “You know how you find out what he’ll say or do?”

I bit my lip hard enough to hurt. “I have to tell him.”

Alexis didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. You do.”

“This is going to be hard,” I said.

“Yes, but you’re waiting for him to ask you to stay,” she said. “He can’t ask if you don’t give him the opportunity.”

I walked back to my car and drove back home. My mind raced with possibilities, with fears, with words I hadn’t said yet. We had only been together a couple weeks. And it was Dean. I knew it was a lot to expect him to voice his feelings. So far, we had never needed to talk feelings.

I spotted him in the front yard before he saw me—shirtless, pushing a lawnmower through the grass, sweat glistening on his tanned skin. Even now, with my stomach in knots, the sight of him sent a familiar warmth through my veins. The man could hire a lawn service, but he insisted on doing everything himself.

He looked up as I approached, killing the mower’s engine. His smile faded the moment he saw my face. “What’s wrong?”

The words stuck in my throat. “I got an offer.”

“An offer?”

“San Francisco,” I said. “They want me there in two weeks.”

I waited for him to react. To argue, or tell me I don’t need it, or ask what I want to do.

“Wow.” He rubbed his jaw, the stubble making a rough sound against his palm. “That’s big.”

Something twisted sharply in my stomach. “That’s all you have to say?”

He exhaled through his nose, looking past me for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” My voice cracked. “Something?”

Dean nodded slowly, like he’d been expecting this. Like he’d already played this conversation in his head a hundred times. The resignation in his eyes made my chest ache. This was exactly what I was worried about. Last night he had withdrawn. He saw it coming after the phone call yesterday. I could see it in his eyes. He had already knew where this thing was headed.

Maybe I did, too.

That was why I didn’t want to tell him. I knew it was going to be the most difficult conversation I was ever going to have. I could feel my heart being ripped out. My soul was crying.