Page 85 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

I nodded, absorbing his words. I knew he was right. Larkspur Lake was a tight-knit community, and while that meant I could count on support from some, it also meant I’d have to deal with the whispers and sideways glances from others. But I wasn’t here to prove anything to them. I was here for myself—to build something real, something lasting.

The waiter arrived with our entrees, steaming plates of pasta and garlic bread that made my stomach growl in anticipation. Dad dug into his spaghetti with gusto. I followed suit, savoring the rich flavors. For a while, we ate in companionable silence.

An idea popped into my head. I couldn’t even say where it came from. It was just there. “I’m having dinner at my place on Sunday. I’d like you and Mom to come.”

“We’ll be there.” He tore off a piece of bread, his tone casual. “Anyone else joining us?”

I took another sip, buying myself a second. “Dean.”

Dad’s hands stilled. His expression didn’t change, but I knew him well enough to read the tension in his shoulders. After a beat, he nodded. “Alright.” He reached for the butter knife. “Your mother will pick out a nice bottle of wine to bring.”

Relief washed over me. “Thank you, Daddy. For everything.”

He grunted, but I didn’t miss the way his eyes softened. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

He pointed the butter knife at me, his voice gruff. “No business talk at dinner. I don’t care how excited you are about floor plans.”

I held up my hands in surrender. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

“Details.”