Chapter 3
3
PORTIA
I was mortified. Completely and utterly mortified. Winning the auction was not in my plans. In fact, my plan had been to avoid the entire event altogether, but Alexis had dragged me in, and now here I was, standing in the middle of a crowded ballroom with all eyes on me.
I had just accidentally bid twenty grand for a date with Dean Jackson. Twenty. Thousand. Dollars.
My stomach churned as the reality of the situation sank in. I didn’t havetwenty thousand dollars. I didn’t even have two thousand . My bank account was a sad, empty wasteland after my failed attempt at making it big in New York. And now, thanks to a sneeze, I was on the hook for a date I didn’t even want with a man who clearly didn’t want me either.
I immediately scrambled for a way out. I couldn’t let Dean Jackson think I was desperate enough to spend money—money I didn’t have—to go on a date with him. And more importantly, I couldn’t afford to actually pay for it. I needed to fix this fast.
I stepped away from Dean after a million camera flashes went off in our faces. I saw the expression in his eyes. He thought this was funny, the jerk. It was anything but.
I made a beeline for the event organizers, my heels clicking loudly against the polished floor. “Excuse me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “There’s been a mistake. I sneezed. It’s the bubbles. Champagne always makes me sneeze. I didn’t actually bid. You have to know that. Is there any way to undo this?”
The woman behind the table gave me a sympathetic smile, but her tone was firm. “I’m sorry, but the rules are clear. No refunds, no backing out. Once the gavel falls, the bid is final.”
My heart sank. “But I can’t afford this. I didn’t even mean to bid!”
She shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. You’ll need to work it out with Mr. Jackson.”
Work it out with Dean Jackson? The man who had looked like he wanted to bolt off that stage before the auction even ended? The man who had glared at me like I’d personally offended him by existing? Yeah, that was going to go over well.
As if on cue, I felt a presence behind me. I turned to find Seth Jackson, Dean’s asshole younger brother and my ex from high school, grinning at me like the Cheshire Cat. “Well, well, well,” he said, amused. “Portia Watson, bidding on my big brother. Who would’ve thought?”
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “This isn’t funny. I didn’t bid on him. It’s a mistake.”
“Oh, it’s hilarious,” he shot back, clearly enjoying himself. “You’ve always had a thing for the Jackson brothers, haven’t you?”
Before I could throw my drink at him, Alexis appeared at my side with a goofy grin. “I mean, he’s not wrong,” she said, smirking. “You did just buy yourself a bad Jackson boy.”
“I didn’t buy anything!” I protested, my voice rising. “This was a mistake! I sneezed! Does no one know the difference between a sneeze and a bid?”
“An expensive mistake,” Seth added, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Dean’s going to love this.”
I groaned again, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I needed to fix this and fast. Before I could begin to formulate a plan, I felt a hand on my arm. I turned to find Dean standing there. His expression told me nothing of what he was really thinking. Was he pissed? Amused? Irritated? His eyes were locked on me once again. His square jaw set in a hard line.
“Portia,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “We need to talk.”
My heart skipped a beat. This was it. This was my chance to explain, to apologize, to beg for mercy. I opened my mouth to plead my case, but before I could get a single word out, Dean cut me off.
“You wanted a date with me, sweetheart?” he said, his tone sharp and challenging. “Be at my shop tomorrow at six.”
I blinked, stunned. “Wait, what? No, I?—”
“Six o’clock,” he repeated, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. “Don’t be late.”
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there like an idiot. I stared after him, my mind racing. What just happened? Did he seriously just command me to show up at his shop? Who did he think he was?
Alexis, of course, found the whole thing hysterical. She burst out laughing as if this was the funniest thing she’d ever seen. “Oh my God,” she wheezed. “He just… he just owned you.”
I shot her a glare, but it was no use. She was too far gone, lost in a fit of laughter.
I groaned. “This is a nightmare,” I muttered. “A complete and utter nightmare. This is why I never drink champagne. If they would have offered a decent glass of wine or a stupid beer, I would not be in this mess.”
“Is it really a mess?” she teased. “Or a chance to have some fun?”
I glanced over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of Dean and Seth talking. “It’s a huge fucking mess.” I glared at Alexis, who was still laughing like a hyena. “This isn’t funny,” I hissed, though my voice had lost some of its earlier conviction. “I’m twenty thousand dollars in the hole because of a sneeze. A sneeze, Alexis!”
She wiped a tear from her eye, still grinning like this was the best day of her life. “Oh, come on, Portia. It’s not every day someone accidentally buys a date with Dean Jackson. This is gold. Pure comedy gold.”
I groaned and shook my head. “Comedy gold? No. This is more like a tragic comedy where I’m the punchline. And now he’s expecting me to show up at his motorcycle shop tomorrow like I’m some grease monkey who cares about his little toys.”
Alexis nudged me with her elbow, her grin widening. “Hey, maybe it won’t be so bad. Dean’s not exactly Mr. Sunshine, but he’s got that whole brooding billionaire thing going for him. Plus, he’s kind of hot in an ‘I could bench press you, but I’d rather glare at you from across the room’ sort of way.”
I shot her a look of pure disbelief. “Are you seriously trying to sell me on this? I don’t care if he’s the last man on Earth. He’s old and… him! ”
“Maybe it’s fate. You know, the universe’s way of pushing you into his arms. And he’s not that much older than us. Eight years. That doesn’t mean anything anymore.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s in his thirties. I’m barely twenty-seven. That’s like… almost a decade.”
“Portia, I know you have functioning eyeballs. That man does not look old. He looks fucking hot. He’s in such good shape he’s going to outlive all of us if he doesn’t drive his bike off a cliff. Besides, men our age are still basically twenty-one. You need an older man.”
“What I need is twenty grand.”
“Come on,” she said, looping her arm through mine. “Let’s get out of here. I can’t give you twenty grand but I can get you a drink. Or five.”
I didn’t argue. The charity gala had officially become my personal hell. I was more than ready to leave. Part of me worried someone was going to chase me down and demand I produce money I didn’t have. I was officially on the run.
We grabbed our things and made our way out of the ballroom. The sound of laughter and music faded behind us as we stepped into the humid air thick with the scent of flowers and the usual dampness from being so close to the lake. I smelled fresh-cut grass as we walked across the grounds.
The walk to Alexis’s apartment was a quiet one, save for the occasional burst of laughter from her as she replayed the events of the evening. I, on the other hand, was too busy wallowing in self-pity to find any humor in the situation.
I couldn’t give the charity twenty grand. I was going to look like such an asshole when I couldn’t pay. And it wasn’t just my humiliation—the charity was missing out on money that could help people. They could have gotten the nineteen thousand from one of the other women.
Now, they were getting screwed.
I was never drinking champagne again.
By the time we reached her building, my feet were killing me. I was more than ready to kick off my heels and wash the night away.
Alexis lived in a small apartment above her parents’ seamstress shop, a place I had spent countless afternoons in as a kid. Her parents had retired a few years ago, leaving Alexis to take over the business. She had turned it into a thriving little shop that catered to the town’s fashion needs. It was cozy and familiar, and right then, it felt like the only safe haven in the world.
We headed upstairs. I immediately kicked off my heels, relishing the feeling of the cool floor beneath my feet. Alexis disappeared into the bathroom to wash off her makeup. I collapsed onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling as I tried to process the mess I’d gotten myself into.
“I can’t believe this,” I muttered, more to myself than to Alexis. “I didn’t come back to town to get caught up with a Jackson. I came to get my head on straight, not to…”
“Accidentally buy yourself a date?” Alexis called from the bathroom. “Hey, that rhymed.”
“You’re not helping.”
She giggled. “I wasn’t trying to help.”
I groaned, throwing a pillow over my face. “This is a disaster. A complete and utter disaster.”
Alexis emerged from the bathroom, her face freshly washed and her hair pulled back into a messy bun. She plopped down on the couch beside me, her expression softening as she took in my defeated posture.
“Okay, okay,” she said, nudging me with her elbow. “I’ll stop teasing. But seriously, Portia, it’s not the end of the world. So you bid on Dean. Big deal. It’s just one date.”
“One date that I can’t afford,” I shot back, sitting up and glaring at her. “Do you have any idea how much twenty thousand dollars is? Take the amount of money in my purse and multiply it by twenty thousand. That’s how broke I am right now. I’m jobless and my savings is almost gone.”
Alexis winced. “Okay, yeah, that’s not great. But maybe you can talk to Dean. Explain what happened. He’s not a monster, you know. I think, deep down, there’s a cuddly teddy bear under that grizzly exterior.”
I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest. “Have you met Dean? He’s about as approachable as a brick wall.”
“True,” Alexis admitted. “But he’s not heartless. And besides, you’ve got nothing to lose at this point. Just talk to him. See what happens.”
I sighed, leaning back against the couch. She was right, of course. I didn’t have much of a choice. I was stuck with this date.
Tomorrow at six, I’d be at his shop, ready or not.