Page 92 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

DEAN

The hostess led us to a corner table on the patio. I pulled out Portia’s chair, catching her surprised smile as she settled in.

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” she said, her fingers brushing mine as I took my seat across from her.

“Didn’t know I could be a gentleman?”

“I think I knew but I feel very spoiled.”

I shrugged and took my seat. “Thought you’d like the view. And we’re celebrating.”

The view was amazing. We could see the entire stretch of shoreline—the dock, my boathouse, even the faint glow of lights from Portia’s parents’ place across the water. People were enjoying the evening on the lake in jet skis, boats, and the swimming area that was blocked off.

Portia’s eyes lit up. “Remember when Tommy tried to jump that wake on his jet ski and face-planted so hard his swim trunks came off?”

I almost choked. “Shit, I’d forgotten about that. His mom was filming the whole thing too.”

“Whatever happened to Tommy?”

“Married that girl from the rival high school. Runs his dad’s hardware store now.” I pointed to a sprawling ranch house with a red roof. “Lives there, actually.”

Portia followed my gaze, her expression softening. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How many of us came back?”

The waiter arrived with our appetizers—crispy calamari for her, bacon-wrapped scallops for me. Portia immediately stole one of my scallops, popping it in her mouth with a satisfied hum.

“Thief,” I muttered, but I was already sliding the plate closer to her.

She winked. “You love it.”

I did.

We ordered Coronas and fish tacos.

Portia swirled her beer bottle. “Remember Jessie? She moved to New York right after graduation. Said she was going to be some big-shot fashion designer.”

I nodded, taking a sip of my beer. “Yeah. Last I heard, she’s designing dog clothes or something.”

Portia laughed, the sound light and easy. “No way.”

“Way,” I confirmed. “Seth’s girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend now—bought some ridiculous tutu for her Pomeranian from her online store.”

She shook her head, grinning. “Better than coming back with your tail between your legs, I guess.”

“Stop. You didn’t come back with your tail between your legs, Portia. You came back to start something new. That’s not failure.”

She looked down at her plate, picking at a piece of calamari. “Sometimes it feels like it is.”

“It’s not,” I said firmly. “You’re building something here. Something real. And you’re doing it on your own terms. You’re your own boss.”

She glanced up at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “When did you get so wise?”

I smirked. “Always have been. You just haven’t been paying attention.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, gazing out at the lake. “What about Mark? The one who used to race dirt bikes out by the old gravel pit?”

“Mark? Moved to Charlotte, last I heard. Opened a custom car shop. Doing pretty well for himself.” I took another swig of my beer, watching as Portia’s gaze lingered on the water.

She turned back to me. “You know, it’s weird. When we were kids, I always thought everyone would leave this place and never look back. But it’s like no matter how far we go, Larkspur Lake pulls us back in.”