Page 98 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

Mom took one from the tray and broke it open, steam billowing out. She popped a small piece into her mouth and nodded approvingly. “Flaky and light,” she declared after swallowing. “Perfect. If that doesn’t wow Dean, I don’t know what will.”

I laughed and shook my head.

“Do you have a bowl or a basket?” she asked. “We’ll get the table set.”

I grabbed a basket from the cabinet and tossed her a cheery red-checkered napkin for lining. Together, we arranged the biscuits, piling them high, and carried them along with the potato salad outside.

“Who wants a refill?” I asked, setting the basket down on the table.

“I’ll take one,” Dad said, handing me his bottle. “Not every day I get to sit back and let someone else man the grill.”

Dean smirked. “Some might say it’s my true calling.”

“I’d agree,” Dad said. “Those steaks smell fantastic.”

We quickly finished setting the table. Dean pulled the steaks off the grill. We sat down and I had to take a moment. Everything felt perfect.

“You weren’t kidding about this view,” Mom said as she buttered a biscuit.

“Worth driving out here just for dinner,” Dad agreed.

I took a bite of my steak and moaned. “Perfect,” I said. “Thank you, Dean.”

He wiped his mouth. “This is a really good marinade.”

“I’ll give you the recipe,” I said.

When he took a bite of a biscuit, I held my breath. I noticed my mom watching as well. Dean’s face transformed. He looked at me. “You made these?”

“Grandma’s recipe,” I said.

“Damn. These are good.”

I knew I was glowing. “Thank you.”

The conversation continued to flow effortlessly. Dean and Dad were instant friends.

“You know,” Dad said after finishing his second piece of pie. “I think this might be the best meal I’ve had in years.”

“Agreed,” Mom added, leaning back in her chair with a contented sigh. “Portia, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“It was a team effort,” I said, glancing at Dean.

When the plates were cleared, Dean disappeared inside, returning with a deck of cards and a wicked grin. “Who’s ready to weep?”

Mom’s eyes lit up with competitive fire. “Oh, you’re on, young man.”

What followed was the most cutthroat game of Hearts I’d ever witnessed. Dean and my mother were ruthless, trading playful barbs with each play.

“Really, Dean? Shooting the moon already?” Mom arched an eyebrow as he laid down a winning hand.

Dean just smirked. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Bullshit,” my father muttered, making us all burst into laughter.

At one point, I caught my father watching me with a soft smile. When our eyes met, he gave me a barely perceptible nod toward Dean—his silent approval. My chest tightened with emotion.

Later, after my parents had left with promises to do it again soon, Dean and I worked side by side in the kitchen, packing up leftovers.

Suddenly, Dean’s arms caged me against the counter, his body warm against my back. I turned in his embrace to face him, my hands coming to rest on his chest.

“Thank you,” I said softly. “For being so wonderful tonight.”

“I had fun.”

“Me too. My parents did too.” I bit my lip. “I’d like to do it again sometime, if you’re interested?”

Dean’s smile was tender as he kissed my forehead. “As many times as I can.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his chest. The words bubbled up in my throat—three little words that felt too big and too soon and exactly right all at once.

But I swallowed them down, for now. Instead, I just held on tighter, breathing in the scent of him. I was happy. So happy. Happier than I thought was possible after the hell I’d been through the last couple of months.