Page 73 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

PORTIA

I woke to the warmth of Dean’s body beside me, his bare chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. Morning light filtered through the blinds. The room was hot and stuffy. We had fallen asleep with the window open and now the morning heat and humidity were pouring in. But I didn’t want to get up and close it. Not yet. For a moment, I just lay there, watching him—the way his dark lashes brushed his cheeks, the faint stubble shadowing his jaw. Last night had been unexpected. And perfect.

He showed a side of himself I had never seen. I got the impression that few people got to see it. Dean carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was a rock. It was evident he didn’t let people in. I knew that feeling. I could be a little closed off myself.

It was self-preservation. Letting people in put you in a vulnerable position. I certainly didn’t like to feel vulnerable, and I wasn’t this tough, leather-wearing biker dude. He had a totally different image to keep up.

I sighed softly. I would love to lie in bed with him all morning, but I had to pee, and I needed coffee. I could feel the coffee headache coming on. That was the worst. He was probably going to be craving caffeine as well. For a brief second, I considered making him breakfast in bed. And then I dismissed the idea. That was way too cheesy.

Careful not to wake him, I slipped out of bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen. The coffeemaker gurgled to life as I leaned against the counter, scrolling through my emails on my phone.

And then I saw it.

Subject: Job Offer – Willow Creek Realty

My stomach flipped. I hadn’t actually expected a response from them, let alone an offer. The owner of the firm had made it pretty clear he didn’t like me. He acted like I was a girl that got too big for her britches, and he wasn’t interested in dealing with me.

I tapped the email open, scanning the words.

Dear Ms. Winston,

After reviewing your qualifications and speaking with Vanessa Carter, we’re pleased to offer you a position as an agent at Willow Creek Realty…

My fingers tightened around the phone. Vanessa Carter. Of course.

Something felt off. Vanessa fired my ass. Why would she be telling these guys to hire me? I didn’t trust the guy or Vanessa.

The coffeemaker beeped, pulling me from my thoughts. I poured a cup, the rich scent filling the air, and took a sip, scalding my mouth. Cursing my own stupidity, I stared at the email like the words might change if I looked long and hard enough.

“Morning.”

Dean’s voice, rough with sleep, sent a shiver down my spine. I turned to find him standing in the doorway, shirtless, his hair tousled from sleep. He rubbed his hand over his chest and yawned.

“Hey,” I said, forcing a smile. “Coffee’s ready.”

I grabbed another mug and filled it for him.

He crossed the kitchen in a few strides, his fingers brushing mine as he took the mug I offered. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said. “If they’ve found Seth or there’s bad news, don’t tell me. I don’t do bad news until after coffee.”

“Not Seth. Although I haven’t checked social media. This is, well, I got a job offer.”

His eyebrows lifted. “That’s good, right?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“You don’t know if a job offer is a good thing?”

I hesitated. “I had an interview, and it absolutely did not go well. The man was never going to hire me. On my way out, I ran into my old boss, the one that fired m in New York. She mentioned she was looking at partnering with small-town brokerage firms. Apparently, Vanessa went in and sang my praises after we ran into each other. And now I have a job offer. I don’t get it.”

Dean’s expression darkened. He took a slow sip of coffee, studying me over the rim. “Sounds like she’s covering her own ass.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

I was secretly glad he was taking my side, but I wanted to know his reasons. I knew my own. I thought I was being biased, but if he thought the same thing, that gave my initial opinion validity.

He shrugged, setting the mug down. “She sees you as a threat. If you’re stuck behind a desk at some small-town brokerage, she can swoop in and start making moves to open a branch of her luxury real estate empire.”

I hadn’t even considered that. My fingers drummed against the counter. “You think that’s her angle?”