Page 75 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

I grabbed my purse and keys and stopped to look at him one last time. I had no idea what the hell was going on, but I liked it. I just hoped he didn’t change his mind. I liked this, whatever this was.

I drove to my parents’ house. It stood at the end of a tree-lined street, its wraparound porch and sprawling gardens unchanged since my childhood. It was in one of the old districts in town. A place that so far had been untouched by progress. I didn’t bother knocking—just let myself in, the familiar scent of lemon polish and fresh-cut flowers wrapping around me.

“Mom? Dad?”

“Out back!” Mom’s voice floated through the screen door.

I found them in the garden, Dad in his favorite rocking chair with an iced tea in his hand. Mom was tending to her roses. A pitcher of tea was sitting on the table next to my dad’s chair.

“Portia?” Dad sat forward. “What’s going on?”

I dropped into the chair beside him. “Can I pick your brain?”

He exchanged a glance with Mom. “About what, sweetheart?”

I leaned forward, feeling excitement for the first time in a long time. “About reopening your brokerage. Together.”

Mom stopped her pruning. Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Together?” he asked.

“Yes.” I nodded.

“Well,” he said slowly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Guess we’d better hear you out.”

And just like that, the spark inside me flared into a flame.

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts as I looked between them. “You built something amazing here—not just a business, but a legacy. People trusted the Watson name because of you. Because you cared about this town, about the people in it. I want to bring that back. But I need your help.”

Dad set his iced tea down. “Portia, honey, we’ve been out of the game for years. The market’s changed. It’s not the same as when we were running things.”

“I know,” I said quickly. “But that’s where I come in. I’ve got the freshest knowledge—what works, what doesn’t—and I know this town. You know this town. Together, we can make it work. We have to take control before Vanessa does.”

Mom wiped her hands on her gardening apron and sat down beside Dad. “Vanessa?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

“Vanessa Carter,” I explained. “She’s some big-shot real estate mogul from New York. She’s my old boss. She fired me and now she’s looking to get into the market here. But she doesn’t get this place. Not like we do. I don’t want her to get a foothold here. If she does, she’ll change this place and not for the better.”

My dad smiled. “We wouldn’t that.”