Page 16 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

He left me standing there with a stupid cookie in my hand and a mess of emotions I didn’t want to unpack. My retort didn’t have the intended effect.

I should go inside, should clean up, and put the rest of the cookies away, but I lingered there on the porch a little longer, watching him walk away.

When did he get so hot? Was I actually attracted to a man I had always thought of as out of my league? Not just out of my league, out of everything. He was Dean Jackson. Much older than I was. At least when I was sixteen, he was a lot older. But now, I supposed the playing field was a little more balanced. Maybe Alexis was right and there was something to the idea of dating men that were a little older than I would normally be interested in.

I snatched the plate off the railing. Before the fight with the screen door, I was on my way out. Alexis was probably thinking I got lost.

As if that was possible in this little town.

I shoved the cookies into a tin, grabbed my keys, and headed out, the screen door slamming shut behind me. The late afternoon air was warm, the kind of sticky heat that clung to your skin. Larkspur Lake was quiet, making me feel like everyone was watching even if they weren’t. I kept my head down, walking briskly down the cobblestone path that led to Main Street.

Alexis answered the door on the second knock, her hair tied up in a messy bun and a measuring tape draped around her neck.

“There you are,” she said. “I thought you may have decided to lounge by the lake.”

“I didn’t want to get eaten by the bugs,” I said.

She laughed. “You get used to it. You were used to it before.”

I curled my lips. “I was young and didn’t know any better.”

She eyed the cookie tin in my hand, then smirked. “Are those what I think they are?”

“I brought snickerdoodles.”

She raised an eyebrow but stepped aside to let me in. “Okay, spill. What happened? You only bake when you’re stressed.”

I put the tin on her coffee table and flopped down on the couch. “Nothing happened. I mean, not really. It’s just… Dean.”

“Dean Jackson?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Dean Jackson.”

“So, what’d he do? Aside from being hot and manly?”

“He fixed the screen door.”

“Tragic,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “You poor thing.”

I threw a pillow at her. “It was embarrassing, okay? I couldn’t even get the screws to turn.”

“Let me guess. He swooped in like some kind of denim-clad knight?”

“It wasn’t like that,” I mumbled, heat rising to my cheeks.

She gave me a knowing look. “Uh-huh.”

I snatched one of the cookies. “It’s so hot.”

“Speaking of hot, how was your date last night?”

I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t a date,” I groaned, pulling a pillow over my face. “It was a nightmare. He made me work in his shop. His actual motorcycle shop.”

Alexis’s eyes widened. “No way. Like, fixing bikes?”

“Trying to,” I admitted. “I spent the entire evening covered in grease, wearing these ridiculous oversized coveralls while he smirked at my incompetence. I couldn’t tell a wrench from a screwdriver.”

“So romantic,” Alexis teased, grabbing a cookie from the tin.