Page 97 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

Dean chuckled, following me inside. “Mr. Watson,” he said and shook my father’s hand.

“Oh, we are beyond that.” Dad chuckled. “Please call me Wade.”

“And you have my permission to call me June,” Mom said.

“Dad brought a six-pack of Corona for you,” I said to Dean.

Dean grinned. “Thank you.”

I didn’t tell my dad I also had a twelve-pack in the fridge just in case everyone else wanted a beer with the meal. I grabbed a bottle opener from the drawer and handed it to Dean, watching as he popped the cap off a Corona with practiced ease. The hiss of the bottle opening filled the kitchen. He took a long swig, leaning casually against the counter.

“It’s been a warm one today,” Dad said. “Feels like summer is cooking this year.”

“It does,” I agreed. I held out my beer for Dean to open. He quickly did and handed it back. “I was out by the lake earlier, and it was already sweltering by noon.”

Mom sipped her tea, her eyes drifting back toward the window. “I can’t believe how blue the water is today. It’s like something out of a postcard.”

“You should see it at sunset,” I said. “The way the light hits the water—it’s breathtaking.”

Dean casually draped his arm around my shoulders. “It’s one of the reasons I bought the property.”

“Do you swim much?” Mom asked him.

“When I have time,” he said with a shrug. “Mostly just quick dips to cool off after working in the shop all day.”

To my relief, they hit it off immediately. Dean and my father fell into a discussion about boat engines while my mother quizzed him about his motorcycle projects. By the time we moved outside to the patio, the conversation flowed as smoothly as the drinks.

“Dean, would you mind?” I gestured to the grill.

“Mind? Woman, you’re about to witness art.” He took the tongs with an exaggerated flourish, making my mother laugh.

“I’ll get the steaks,” I said. “I’ve had them marinating.”

Dean walked over to the grill and fired it up. I watched Dean through the kitchen window as he stood at the grill, beer in one hand, tongs in the other. The sun cast a golden glow across his shoulders, highlighting the way his shirt stretched across his back when he leaned forward to check the steaks. He was laughing at something Dad said, his head thrown back, completely at ease. I’d never seen him this relaxed around other people before.

I slid the tray of biscuits into the oven, hoping they actually turned out.

Mom leaned against the counter, her eyes drifting toward the window where Dean and Dad were still chatting. “So,” she said, her voice casual in that way that meant she was about to say something decidedly not casual. “He’s quite the catch, isn’t he?”

Heat crawled up my neck. “Mom.”

“What?” She grinned. “I’m just saying, the man fills out a shirt nicely.”

“Mom!” I laughed, scandalized but also secretly pleased. “That’s my boyfriend you’re objectifying.”

“Oh please,” she said, waving a hand. “Let me have my fun.”

In the distance, I saw Dad holding up his hands in mock surrender. Dean was shaking a spatula at him, still laughing.

“Your father’s right,” Mom added. “This is a nice place you have here.” Her smile faded slightly. “Are you sure you’re happy back in Larkspur?”

“I am,” I said, surprised by how much I meant it. “The city was more than I could handle. I gave it a shot. I’m happy I did. I checked out the grass on the other side. It was green but I’m ready to just slow down a bit.”

“You were always too hard on yourself,” she said softly. “We were so glad you were going to give it a try, but I’m not going to lie, I missed you like crazy. I’m glad you’re back. I will work around the clock to help you with this new venture. And now that you have a very handsome man here, I hope that is going to persuade you to stay.”

A sudden wave of gratitude washed over me. For their support back home, for this day going so well, for Dean and the opportunities.

The oven timer started beeping. I pulled the biscuits out, inhaling a cloud of buttery bliss. “I think these will make a southern cook out of me yet.”