Page 41 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

“Oh, girl, don’t act like you don’t know that man is looking at you like you are on the menu.”

“Stop,” I hissed.

“Why are you denying it?” she asked.

“Denying what?”

She laughed, sounding very much like a crazy person. “Have fun,” she said and disappeared.

“Fuck it,” I muttered under my breath.

I wasn’t going to run. If he wanted to keep looking at me like that, he was going to have to do it right in front of me. No more gazes from afar like a coward. I supposed I was still a little pissed at him for getting me all revved up and then dumping ice water on the situation.

I walked straight toward Dean, daring him to run. He didn’t move when I stepped beside him, just kept his eyes on the crowd. “Enjoying yourself, Jackson?” I asked.

His gaze flicked over me. “Wouldn’t go that far.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s okay to admit it.”

“I didn’t know I had to ask for permission.”

“You don’t, but you seem like you’re working hard to be miserable.”

He chuckled deep in his throat. “And you’re working too hard to be cheery. We both know you’re not happy to be here.”

“No, we don’t know that,” I said. “I am happy to be here. My parents are here and they’re happy. That makes me happy.”

He nodded and took a drink from his glass of beer. I wasn’t going to let his grumpy attitude bring me down. I was the one that deserved to be sullen. But I was done pouting.

“Come on, let’s go do something,” I said. “You look like you need a distraction.”

To my surprise, he didn’t resist. He just followed me. We started at the vendor booths, weaving through the crowd as I pointed out things that caught my eye.

“Look at this,” I said, stopping at a booth selling handmade jewelry. I held up a delicate silver bracelet, the charms catching the light. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Dean glanced at it, his expression unreadable. “If you’re into that kind of thing.”

I shot him a look. “You’re such a grump.”

He shrugged, but I thought I saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. We wandered past the rows of booths, a mix of baked goods, crafts, and various trinkets all blending together. I picked up an old vinyl record and waved it at him. “Please tell me you have a record player.”

“Why would I have a record player?” he asked.

“I don’t know. You seem like the kind of guy that appreciates vinyl.”

He frowned. “Old? Are you calling me old?”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “It’s not old. It’s nostalgic. Would you be surprised to learn I have a record player? It’s in storage, but I have one.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged and flipped through the bin with old vinyl from the seventies. “I like the sound of it.”

“Your parents aren’t even old enough to be into vinyl,” he said. “They would have been at the tail end of the vinyl days.”

I tilted my head, flashing a smile at him. “Maybe I’m just cooler than you thought.”

His blue eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a glint of amusement there. “Doubtful.”