Chapter 35
35
PORTIA
I stood in front of the mirror, pulling my hair into a loose ponytail. Casual but polished—that was the goal. I wanted to look professional enough to sign the lease for my new office but not so formal that it felt like I was trying too hard. After all, this was small-town Larkspur Lake, not some high-rise in the city.
I slipped on a pair of dark jeans and a crisp white blouse, tucking it in just enough to look intentional. I was hoping to get right to work after I signed the paperwork.
My mind wandered to Dean. Dinner with my parents tomorrow night. That was big. Huge, actually. He’d never met them as my… boyfriend? Partner? Whatever label we were using these days. The thought made my stomach flutter in a way that was equal parts excitement and nerves. Dean wasn’t exactly the type to fit neatly into a family dinner setting. Hell, he barely fit into most social settings unless they involved motorcycles or beer.
But he was trying. That was what mattered, right?
My parents would be nice to him. They already proved they were open to the relationship. The night at the festival they had been very chill with him. But that was before his brother tried to blow up the festival. I knew they would have some hesitations. That was okay. Once they got to sit down and really talk with him in a quiet setting, they would see he wasn’t a gruff biker dude.
I grabbed my bag and headed out. I was still way early. My plan was to get some coffee, sign, and then get busy cleaning up the property. I drove into town and parked in an available spot that would make it easy to do all the things I needed to do without having to move the car over and over. I walked into the coffee shop. Locals and tourists alike were sitting around, sipping iced coffees and Americanos.
I made my way up to the front counter. I barely had time to place my coffee order before my phone started buzzing. It was a text from Alexis. She was supposed to be meeting me at the property later.
Sorry to distract you on lease-signing day, but you need to see this.
I sighed, tapping the link while the barista called out orders. The headline had my eyes bulging.
“Local Realtor Opens Independent Firm—Breaking Industry Expectations or Burning Bridges?”
“Seriously?” I muttered, scrolling through the article. Who was writing this crap? And more importantly, why was my career trajectory the most exciting thing happening in this town? I was seriously the most boring person in this area. If I sneezed, this woman would write about it. She’d sensationalize it. It would be front page news that I was spreading some horrific virus.
But in the grand scheme of things, this was for the best. I thought about Seth sitting in jail, Dean’s stress about tomorrow’s dinner, and decided maybe it was better the town’s self-appointed busybody stayed fixated on me. And like they said, there was no bad publicity. Lila was promoting my new business without me even asking.
The barista called my name. I reached for my coffee, turned, and nearly spilled it all over the man standing beside me. The brokerage owner I’d interviewed with.
We locked eyes. I inwardly groaned. My day had started out with such promise, and in the span of two minutes, it was going to shit.
“Well, well,” he said, crossing his arms. “I have to say, I didn’t expect you to go from asking for a job to becoming my competition.”
I took a slow sip of my coffee. He was trying to intimidate me. It wasn’t going to work. “I guess you could say our interview inspired me.”
His jaw twitched. “We sent you a job offer.”
“Yes, you did, and I politely declined. I appreciate the offer, really. But I’ve decided to go in a different direction.”
His lips curled into a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Different direction? Or just desperate to prove something?”
The comment stung, but I kept my expression neutral. “I’m not here to prove anything. I’m here to build something of my own. That’s all.”
“You think you’re ready for this? Running a firm isn’t just about selling houses, Portia. It’s about connections, reputation—things you don’t have here anymore.”
I forced a smile, though my grip tightened around my coffee cup. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
I knew an attempt at intimidation. This man had no idea what he was dealing with. I worked in Manhattan. He was not going to intimidate me.
He straightened, shaking his head as if I were some naive kid who didn’t know better. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
“I look forward to you giving me some ‘simple’ competition.”
Before he could respond, I turned and strode out. Let him underestimate me. He wouldn’t for long. He and the others gossiping about me were going to discover I wasn’t the meek little Portia I had been when I left all those years ago.
I walked down the sidewalk to my future property. The storefront looked different already. The “For Lease” sign was gone, and a local furniture company was unloading boxes from their truck. My father stood on the sidewalk, chatting with the building owner—his old friend, Mr. Callahan—who’d agreed to let me move in early.
“You ready for this, kiddo?” Dad asked as I approached.
I nodded. “So ready.”
Mr. Callahan handed me the lease with a wink. “Your dad already combed through it. Says it’s solid.”
Alexis appeared out of nowhere, camera in hand. “Smile for posterity!”
I groaned. “You’re ridiculous.”
But I posed anyway, holding the pen dramatically over the signature line. The shutter clicked, capturing the moment my dream became official. One signature, and this space was mine.
Dad kissed my forehead after I signed. “Proud of you,” he murmured before heading out.
Alexis and I walked inside. The door was propped open to allow the delivery men to bring in the boxes. I had dipped into my savings with the hope it paid off. If not, I was going to be moving in with Mom and Dad. I really didn’t want that.
Alexis popped open a bottle of champagne with a celebratory pop! “To the new queen of real estate!”
I laughed. “From your lips to God’s ears,” I said. “With that article in the paper, failure is not an option. They will laugh me right out of town.”
“You’re not going to fail.” She pulled a couple plastic glasses from her bag. She gave them to me to hold while she poured.
“To new beginnings,” I said.
We clinked glasses just as the door swung open again.
Dean stood there, toolbox in hand, looking unfairly good in a pair of khaki shorts and a black T-shirt with his business logo on the front.
“Hi,” I said with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Figured you might need a hand putting together all the fancy furniture you ordered,” he said, eyeing the stack of boxes. “Unless you were planning to do it yourself?”
I grinned. “And let you rob me of watching you get all sweaty putting my office together? No chance.”
Alexis whooped. “I’m leaving before this turns into foreplay.”
I laughed. “Thank you for being here. And the champagne.”
“You guys keep the champagne,” she said. “Maybe invest in some blinds for the window.” She looked at Dean once again and clucked her tongue. “You’re a lucky woman, Portia Watson.”
Dean just smirked as she fled.
“Sorry,” I said. “No filter. Want some champagne?”
He looked at it like I was offering him mud.
“Sorry, not your thing.”
“Not so much,” he said.
“Are you really here to help?”
“Of course,” he said.
“You’re pretty amazing.” I stepped into his arms and gave him a kiss.
It was brief but electric. A promise of more to come. When I pulled back, he was looking at me with those piercing blue eyes, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips like he knew exactly what that kiss had done to me.
“Are you really ready to play handyman?”
“I’ll play whatever you want,” he said in a husky voice.
“Hmm,” I said, raking my eyes over him. “You in a toolbelt. Shirtless. I could absolutely get down with that.”
“Down girl,” he joked. “You’ve got a bunch of shit here. I’m guessing you want to open soon. That means we need to get started.”
I gestured toward the pile of boxes scattered across the floor. “That one’s my desk,” I said, pointing to the largest box. “Solid oak. Got it on clearance from that warehouse in Raleigh. Minimal assembly required.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Minimal assembly.”
“Yeah, the bookshelves and chairs are over there,” I said.
He nodded. “You didn’t consider ordering furniture and having it delivered?”
“Too expensive,” I said. “A little assembly saves thousands.”
“Let’s get to work, then,” he said.
He pulled out a box knife and sliced through the cardboard. I watched him pull out the instructions and scan through them. He was so sexy. There was a ruggedness to him that I couldn’t stop looking at. He looked up from the paper and smiled. “I think we can handle this.”
He dropped to his knees and pulled out some of the pieces.
“Phillips head,” he said, holding out his hand without looking at me.
I reached into the toolbox he’d brought. I felt far better equipped to help him after the night in the garage. Our first official date. I handed him the right screwdriver.
“Good job,” he said.
I laughed. “I had a good teacher.”
We worked in silence for a while, him assembling while I handed him tools like some kind of amateur mechanic’s assistant. It was almost funny how much I’d picked up from that one evening in his shop.
Hours later, Dean’s forehead gleamed with sweat as he tightened the last screw on my bookshelf. I handed him a water bottle.
“Thanks for this,” I said.
He took a long drink, his throat working. “Not every day you get to build an empire from the ground up.”
I looked around at the half-assembled furniture, the blank walls waiting for photos and the cardboard strewn about. It was chaos now, but I could see what it would become.
“I think I can see your vision now,” he said.
“Yeah?”
I took a deep breath, letting my gaze wander over the space. “Yeah,” I said, stepping closer to the desk Dean had just finished assembling. I ran my hand along the smooth surface. “I want it to feel warm. Inviting. Like, when someone walks in, they’re not just walking into an office—they’re walking into a place where they can sit down and relax. I don’t like the high-pressure sales thing. I know a lot of families are already stressed out enough with the whole process of looking for a home.”
“Maybe a kids’ area,” he suggested.
“Yes! Very good idea. My business is going to cater to family homes, not the expensive houses so much.”
He nodded. “Good idea.”
“Maybe some potted plants in the corners—something lush and green to give it life.” I turned back to him, my excitement building as I spoke. “And over here.” I pointed to the wall behind the desk. “I want a mural. I used to know an artist in town. If she’s still here, I’ll hire her to paint a mural of Larkspur Lake.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got it all figured out.”
“Not all of it,” I admitted with a laugh, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “But enough to get started. The rest I’ll figure out as I go.”
Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and grabbed mine. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“Dinner. My treat.”
“I think I should be buying you dinner,” I said.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not ever letting that happen.”
“Maybe chivalry isn’t dead.”