Page 62 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

I got back to work, trying to focus on the bike in front of me. But the weight of my decision dragged me down, making it hard to concentrate. I heard the door open and thought it might be Seth again.

I wiped my hands and got up to go out front. It wasn’t Seth. It was one of my regular customers—a dude with way too much money, no wife or kids, and a love of bikes.

“What brings you in?” I asked, wiping the grease off my hands.

The guy grinned at me, shoving his sunglasses up onto his head. He was in his sixties but had the energy of someone much younger. “Came to see if you’re finally ready to build me that chopper I’ve been dreaming about.”

I nodded, trying to keep my mind from drifting. “You still want the full custom?”

“Absolutely,” he said, enthusiasm lighting up his face. “I was thinking something sleek but vintage looking, you know? Like my old Panhead back in eighty-one but with your touch. I want it to move like smoke on the highway.”

I nodded again, feeling myself start to focus a little more. I loved building bikes. I loved the creativity and uniqueness of every custom bike I built right down to the spokes. Maybe this was what I needed—a distraction, something to throw myself into. “We can do a rigid frame with long forks, maybe ape hangers?”

His eyes gleamed. “Now you’re talking, Jackson! Knew you’d get it.”

I relaxed a fraction and motioned for him to follow me over to the workbench so I could show him some designs. “Any ideas on the paint scheme?”

“You tell me,” he said. “I trust your instincts.”

That almost made me smile. Someone trusted my instincts—there was a new concept. “Let me sketch out a few things,” I said. “We’ll make sure it’s exactly what you’re looking for.”

He rubbed his hands together like a kid in a candy store. “Perfect! Knew there was a reason I came all the way down here.”

I nodded and reached for a pencil. “Give me a week to pull the designs together. You still got my number?”

“Sure do.” He tapped his sunglasses. “And you know how to find me if I’m out cruising.”

“Great,” I said.

His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen before giving me a quick salute. “Gotta run, but I’m excited to see what you come up with.”

I turned back to the bike on my workbench, trying to chase off thoughts of my brother with engine specs and custom parts.

In my gut, I knew it was the right call to cut Seth off. Seth needed to stand on his own. But in my heart? I didn’t want to lose the only family I had left.

I finished up the bike I was working on. I could go home, but that would put me in close proximity to Portia. I didn’t trust myself to keep away from her. And there was always the chance she would pop over for a visit.

That left one alternative. I needed to feel the wind in my hair. I grabbed my helmet and keys, heading out to one of my bikes. I didn’t know where I was going, but I needed to clear my head.

I kicked the engine to life. The thunder rolled through me like a heartbeat. The bike vibrated beneath me as I swung my leg over and headed out of the parking lot.

The trees blurred past on either side as I cranked the throttle wide open. The wind sliced against my face. It was just what I needed. A long, fast ride always left me feeling better about everything life heaped on me.

The road stretched out before me, a long ribbon of asphalt dipping and curving through the lush green hills. I headed for the old highway that was usually empty these days. It was just me, the road, and the roar of the bike. I leaned into a turn, feeling the tires grip beneath me, steady and sure. There was nothing like it. No doubts. No second-guessing. Just instinct and motion.

I knew where this would lead if I let it. Two hours would be gone in a flash, thirty miles from Larkspur Lake before I’d notice—and maybe that was okay today.

For a while, the riding worked. But as the miles stretched on, the weight of everything came crashing back. It turned out I couldn’t outrun shit.

I pulled over at a lookout point, the lake stretching out below me. I sat there for a while, staring out at the horizon, trying to make sense of everything. I had this feeling I was doing life wrong. I was a fucking billionaire. I should be happy. I shouldn’t feel like I was all alone without a friend in the world.