Chapter 8
8
DEAN
I tried to forget about Portia. I told myself that helping her with the damn door was a one-time thing, just like the auction was a fluke. But when I lay in bed that night, arms crossed behind my head, my mind kept circling back to her. The way she looked standing on her porch all hot and flustered and wearing those shorts that made her legs look crazy long. The way she offered me a damn cookie.
I groaned and rolled over, punching the pillow under my head. This was ridiculous. I didn’t have time for this nonsense—for her. Portia Watson was danger wrapped in a pretty package, and I didn’t need her flipping my life upside down.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I grabbed it, half-hoping it was work-related so I could distract myself. But it was Seth. Of course.
Hey, come out. We’re at Joe’s.
The last thing I wanted to do was hang out at the bar. Things were different these days. It was no longer fun to sit at the bar with my brother. His drinking had gotten heavier, and when Seth got shitfaced, he started shit. Especially with the summer people in town. Messing with tourists almost always led to drama.
He’d been kicked out of every bar in town, but because of who I was, they always let him back in. That wasn’t helpful. I certainly hadn’t asked them for any favors. If I had my way, I would have everyone cut him off for a few months to let him get his head back on straight.
I texted him back and let him know I was in bed. He replied with the usual bullshit comment, asking which hand I was using. I sighed and set the phone back down. Once again, I flopped back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling, but my mind wandered right back to Portia again.
That stupid auction had thrown everything off balance. I hadn’t been planning to get involved—hadn’t wanted to—but when I saw her standing there with that look on her face like she was about to cry, something in me snapped. Now here I was, twenty grand lighter and unable to stop thinking about her.
The next day, I threw myself into work. It wasn’t hard to do. Summer was our busiest time of year. Everyone wanted new motorcycles to ride and enjoy the summer weather. Making custom bikes took extra time, but I wouldn’t send anything out those doors until it was perfect.
After scanning the schedule for the day, I got right to work. Some people thought it was crazy that I still got my hands dirty. But for me, the shop was everything. It was where I found peace, where I could lose myself in the hum of machinery and the rhythm of problem-solving. The smell of oil and metal, the feel of a wrench in my hand—it was my happy place.
I didn’t even mind talking to the customers. Usually, I wasn’t the friendliest guy. I didn’t like most people. But bikers, real bikers, were cool to talk to. We talked bikes. Rides. Ideas on how to make their chopper unique.
I was deep into building a beast of a bike. When this baby got running, it would sound like a jet engine. The world was in balance again and I was in my flow state. Then Seth showed up in the afternoon.
This time, he wasn’t alone. A woman was draped over his arm, giggling. He dug through my fridge for a beer. I watched in irritation as he made himself at home, as if my place was just another one of his hangouts. It had always been that way with him.
He cracked open a beer, took a drink, and then passed it to the woman. “So, you and Portia, huh?” the woman asked.
I ignored her. It was rude but so was busting in here while day-drinking. But Seth wasn’t the kind of guy to take a hint. He never had been. He took another swig of beer and nudged the woman next to him, who giggled like she’d just told the funniest joke in the world. She was one of those types—designer clothes, perfectly styled hair, and a look in her eye like she was always searching for the next piece of gossip to spread.
Despite Seth not really having two pennies to rub together, he managed to attract some of the wealthy socialites that hung out at their luxury lake houses for the summer. I figured it was them fulfilling some weird fantasy. A walk on the wild side with no strings.
“Tell him what you read in that post,” Seth urged.
“Oh, yeah, I read all about it,” she chimed in, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “Portia Watson thought she was going to strike it rich in the city. And clearly she’s looking for another way to get rich quick. There’s no shame in the game, though. My first and second ex-husbands were wealthy. And that left me wealthy. We all do what we have to.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I muttered.
“Wasn’t it?” Seth asked with a laugh. “They say a picture is worth a thousand words. The pictures all over the papers say about ten thousand words.”
I slammed the wrench down. “What’s your problem, Seth? You got nothing better to do than come in here and run your mouth? It’s the middle of the day and you’re already drunk.”
“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” the woman said.
I took a deep breath to calm down. “What are you talking about?”
The woman pulled her phone out and flashed the screen at me. “One of the local reporters, who just happens to be a friend of mine, published an article.”
“Let me see it,” I said.
She handed me the phone. I skimmed it, feeling something twist in my gut.
“Jesus,” I exhaled. “When was this published?”
“This morning,” she answered. “Portia’s name is all over town now. She’s big news. I really want to meet this chick. I bet we can be friends.”
I clenched my jaw, the words on the screen blurring as my pulse ticked up. Some damn reporter had dug into Portia’s past, unearthing what was clearly nobody else’s damn business. The headline alone was enough to make my stomach tighten. I wasn’t sure what pissed me off more—the fact that some nosy journalist had dredged this up or the fact that, when Portia saw it, she would probably try to crawl into a hole.
Seth leaned over my shoulder, reading the article with a smirk. “She really thought she was gonna make it, huh?” he said, shaking his head. “Big-time luxury real estate in New York? Did she think she was going to get her own reality show?”
I shot him a look. “She comes from real estate. It makes sense.”
Seth snorted. “Yeah, well, that’s not how it played out, was it? She shot too high and missed. Classic small-town girl overreaching. Should’ve stayed in her lane. She always acted like she was better than us back then. I remember when she left. She acted like she was moving on up and we were all shit.”
She might not have been too far off when it came to my brother. His shitty attitude made my skin prickle with irritation. I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake it off, but the feeling stuck. I didn’t know Portia well back in the day, but I never got the feeling she thought she was better than anyone. It was just that Seth had been a shitty boyfriend.
“Her lane?” I echoed, a bit sharper than I intended.
“You know what I mean. She thought she was hot shit.”
“Because she moved to New York?”
Seth just shrugged. “I mean, come on, Dean. You know how it goes. Some people just aren’t built for that world. You don’t just waltz into Manhattan and expect to start selling million-dollar penthouses.”
I stayed quiet for a beat. “Her dad was the best realtor this town’s ever seen,” I finally said. “If anyone had the background to make it, it was her.”
“Yeah, in this town,” Seth countered. “Different beast out there.”
I exhaled slowly and bit back the response I wanted to give him, that at least she had tried something. She had gone after a goal. Seth just sat on his ass and annoyed people.
“You don’t think she had a shot?” I asked.
Seth laughed, shaking his head. “If she did, she wouldn’t be back here, would she?”
I didn’t answer. I forced myself to actually read the article.
Portia Langley Returns Home After Leaving High-Profile Real Estate Dream Behind.
The article painted a picture of her as a woman who had gone off to chase a dream that never quite materialized. It detailed how she’d left to pursue luxury real estate, following in her father’s footsteps, only to return after failing to make a name for herself.
I dragged a hand over my face. What was going on with the news these days? Then again, the whole damn town would eat this up. That was the problem with little places like this. There wasn’t enough excitement, so when something minor happened, it turned into an actual article.
People would be talking about it for the next week or two unless something else happened. People would remember every detail about her childhood and twist it into something big and juicy.
“Think she saw it?” I asked.
The woman who’d shown me the article shrugged and took her phone back. “If she did, she hasn’t commented.”
I sighed. “Yeah. She wouldn’t. She’s smarter than that. She knows how you people are. Scavengers.”
Portia seemed like a tough cookie, but I doubted she wanted to air her failures for everyone to see. This article would cut her deeply. She might bury it beneath that polished exterior of hers and act like it didn’t matter, even though it did.
“You sound like you actually feel bad for her,” Seth said.
“Maybe I do. So what?”
He scoffed. “Dean, she left. You remember that, right? She didn’t just pack up and go—she ran. Thought she was too good for this place.”
“Maybe she just wanted more,” I said. “Sounds to me like people are jealous.”
I shot the woman a look. She just rolled her eyes.
“And maybe she should’ve known better,” Seth shot back. “This town is where she belongs. Always has been.”
Maybe Portia thought she had to leave to make something of herself. Success looked different for everyone.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t talk too much shit,” I said.
The woman smirked. “Sounds like Dean’s got a soft spot for the hometown girl. Never thought I’d see the day.”
I glared at her. “Who are you?”
She raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Just saying, she’s not exactly the golden child anymore.”
“People should mind their own damn business,” I snapped, my voice sharp enough to make her flinch. Too bad. She was welcome to hit the fucking road at any time. I hadn’t invited her to my shop. “Portia didn’t ask for anyone’s opinion. No one here has any right to judge her.”
Seth chuckled, shaking his head. “Damn, Dean. Didn’t know you were her knight in shining armor now.”
I turned on him, my patience wearing thin. “And I don’t know why you keep bringing her up all the damn time. We all get it. You don’t like her. Duly noted. But for the record, you’re in no position to judge her, Seth. Not with all the dumb shit you’ve pulled over the years.”
His smirk faltered, but he tried to play it off with a shrug, still trying to look cool in front of his trashy fuck buddy. “Hey, I’m just stating facts, Dean.”
“Yeah? Well, your facts are getting on my damn nerves,” I shot back. “You want to talk about people falling flat on their face? Let’s start with you.”
“Alright, alright,” Seth interrupted. “Shit, Dean. I get it.”
“I hope so,” I told him. “I’ve got shit to do and I don’t want to hear about the bullshit gossip around town.”
“Let’s go, Megan,” Seth said. “Dean’s had a burr in his butt for the last couple days.”
“Yeah, and it’s name is Seth,” I called after him.