Page 29 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

“I don’t own half this town,” I said, sitting down on one of the logs I’d dragged over as makeshift seating.

“Close enough,” she said with a laugh. “You could at least pretend to like people.”

“I like people fine,” I said. “I just don’t feel the need to waste time on small talk.”

She pulled the marshmallow out and inspected it before holding it over the fire again. She was clearly an expert.

“You’re really doing this,” I said.

She didn’t look at me, just focused on the marshmallow. “Yep.”

I shook my head and took another drink. “You’re unbelievable.”

She grinned, pulling the marshmallow out of the fire and inspecting it. “You’re just mad because you know this is going to be amazing. You know you want a s’more. I don’t know why you’re pretending you don’t.”

I didn’t respond, just watched as she assembled the s’more. She took a bite, her eyes closing as she savored it. I couldn’t help but notice the way she licked marshmallow off her fingers. It was maddening.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I muttered.

She opened her eyes, still grinning. “You’re just jealous.”

I rolled my eyes, taking a swig of my beer. “Yeah, that’s it.”

She laughed, then reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “Relax, Jackson. I didn’t actually think you’d enjoy s’mores. But this? This is more your speed, right?”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You brought whiskey?”

She shrugged, holding it up. “I figured if I was going to crash your fire, I should at least bring something you’d like.”

I couldn’t help the small smirk. “You’re full of surprises, Watson.”

She sat down on another one of the logs. She put down the bottle of beer and twisted open the cap on the whiskey bottle. I should tell her no. I should tell her I was going inside. For some damn reason, I let her stay.

Portia stretched her legs out and took a drink straight from the bottle before passing it to me. She was relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen before—like she wasn’t carrying the weight of other people’s expectations for once. For some reason, that made it harder to ignore her.

I took a swig from the bottle and passed it back before washing it down with a drink from the beer bottle.

“Seth’s an ass,” she said while staring at the fire.

I snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

She tilted her head, eyes still on the lake. “You ever get tired of cleaning up after him?”

The question shouldn’t have hit me the way it did. But it did. I stared out at the dark stretch of water. I didn’t know why I bothered answering. Normally, I’d shrug off something like this. But Portia was quiet. She wasn’t asking to judge me, not looking for a fight. She just wanted to know. She was one person that would know about Seth’s many troubles. I didn’t believe the question was snarky.

“He’s my brother,” I finally answered.

She didn’t push. Just watched me, waiting. When she finally nudged my knee with hers, it was a light touch. Quick. Fleeting. But I felt it all the same.

“That doesn’t mean he’s your responsibility,” she said.

I reached out, asking for the whiskey. She handed it over. I took a slow sip, letting the burn slide down my throat.

“He’s the only family I got,” I muttered. “Doesn’t matter if he screws up. I’m not gonna let him crash and burn.”

Portia was quiet for a moment. “I get that, but still. Doesn’t it get old?”

I chuckled. “Yes. Very. I thought he’d mellow out as he got older but it seems I was wrong.”