Chapter 12
12
DEAN
T hat was an image I wasn’t going to get out of my head anytime soon. Portia Watson, sprawled out on that dock like she owned the damn lake. Sunlight catching in her hair and a body that was going to play out in fantasies in my head for years to come. I should’ve kept my eyes forward, but of course, they didn’t listen. They never did when it came to her.
I slammed the front door a little harder than necessary, the sound echoing through the empty house. This was supposed to be my escape. The one place in town where I didn’t have to deal with people—especially not Portia. And yet, here she was, renting the house next door like some kind of cosmic joke.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and leaned against the counter, staring out the window. The lake was calm today. Normally, it was my favorite view—the one thing that could quiet my mind after a long day in the shop. But today, all I could see was Portia lying there like she didn’t have a care in the world. Like she hadn’t just upended mine.
I shook my head, trying to clear the image, but it was no use. She was there, sexy and fucking beautiful. I forced myself to walk away from the window. It was creepy to stand there and watch her sunbathe. In the itty-bitty bikini that showed off her body.
I shook it off and went upstairs to shower away the grease and grime from the day. When I went back downstairs, I made myself something to eat, doing my best not to look out at the lake.
After dinner and watching TV for a while, I grabbed a cold beer and headed out to my firepit in the yard, close to the beach.
I didn’t think too hard as I got a fire burning. It was one of those things I’d always found therapeutic—something about the flames, the way they crackled and danced. It made it easy to turn my mind off and just check out. I had a fortune in the bank, but nothing beat the sheer joy of sitting in my backyard in front of the fire.
Tonight, the fire was more of a necessity than pleasure. Maybe it was because the past few days had been a mess—Seth running his mouth, Portia stirring things up in my head, the whole damn town suddenly invested in something that shouldn’t matter to me.
I stood near the pit, tossing in wood. The night air was cool, but the fire crackled hot in front of me, sending smoke curling into the sky. I liked this. The quiet. The simplicity. It was the kind of peace I didn’t get often, and I wasn’t in the mood to ruin it. I took a long drink from my beer, already wishing I would have brought two out with me.
I was about to go up to the house when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Portia stepped into the glow of the fire, something tucked under her arm. She looked different. Less put-together than usual, her hair loose and wearing a hoodie with leggings. She stopped a few feet away, holding up a bag like it was some kind of peace offering.
“I saw the smoke,” she said. “Figured either you were trying to burn the place down or you could use a distraction.”
I raised a brow. “And you decided to be that distraction?”
She smirked, holding up the bag. Marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate. “I thought we could make s’mores?”
S’mores? I’d rather fall into the fire. I shook my head, turning back to the flames. “Go home, Portia.”
She didn’t budge. “I saw the fire, and I want a s’more. So you can sit there and pout while I make one. Then I’ll leave you alone.”
“I was just going up to get a beer,” I said. “Want one?”
“Yes, please, landlord .”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me this was your place?”
I shrugged. “Didn’t think it mattered. I assumed you knew.”
“No.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, but it explains why I saw you the other day.”
“Yep. Be back in a minute.”
I walked up to the house and considered my options. I didn’t know if it was a good idea for me to be sitting around with Portia. Something about her made me feel unsettled.
I grabbed two beers from the fridge, hesitating for a moment. The cool air from the open refrigerator brushed against my face, but it did little to clear the tension in my chest. I didn’t want to admit it, but Portia had a way of unraveling me. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a disaster waiting to happen.
When I got back to the fire, she was kneeling by the pit, carefully spearing a marshmallow on a stick she’d found somewhere—probably from a branch. The flames flickered across her face, softening her features and making her look younger, less polished than the woman who’d been sprawled out on the dock earlier. It was almost disarming.
“Here,” I said, handing her one of the beers.
She took it with a small smile, cracking it open and taking a sip. “Thanks.” Her eyes stayed on the fire as she held the marshmallow over the flames, rotating it slowly. “You know, for someone who owns half this town, you’re not very sociable.”
“I don’t own half this town,” I said, sitting down on one of the logs I’d dragged over as makeshift seating.
“Close enough,” she said with a laugh. “You could at least pretend to like people.”
“I like people fine,” I said. “I just don’t feel the need to waste time on small talk.”
She pulled the marshmallow out and inspected it before holding it over the fire again. She was clearly an expert.
“You’re really doing this,” I said.
She didn’t look at me, just focused on the marshmallow. “Yep.”
I shook my head and took another drink. “You’re unbelievable.”
She grinned, pulling the marshmallow out of the fire and inspecting it. “You’re just mad because you know this is going to be amazing. You know you want a s’more. I don’t know why you’re pretending you don’t.”
I didn’t respond, just watched as she assembled the s’more. She took a bite, her eyes closing as she savored it. I couldn’t help but notice the way she licked marshmallow off her fingers. It was maddening.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I muttered.
She opened her eyes, still grinning. “You’re just jealous.”
I rolled my eyes, taking a swig of my beer. “Yeah, that’s it.”
She laughed, then reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “Relax, Jackson. I didn’t actually think you’d enjoy s’mores. But this? This is more your speed, right?”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You brought whiskey?”
She shrugged, holding it up. “I figured if I was going to crash your fire, I should at least bring something you’d like.”
I couldn’t help the small smirk. “You’re full of surprises, Watson.”
She sat down on another one of the logs. She put down the bottle of beer and twisted open the cap on the whiskey bottle. I should tell her no. I should tell her I was going inside. For some damn reason, I let her stay.
Portia stretched her legs out and took a drink straight from the bottle before passing it to me. She was relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen before—like she wasn’t carrying the weight of other people’s expectations for once. For some reason, that made it harder to ignore her.
I took a swig from the bottle and passed it back before washing it down with a drink from the beer bottle.
“Seth’s an ass,” she said while staring at the fire.
I snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
She tilted her head, eyes still on the lake. “You ever get tired of cleaning up after him?”
The question shouldn’t have hit me the way it did. But it did. I stared out at the dark stretch of water. I didn’t know why I bothered answering. Normally, I’d shrug off something like this. But Portia was quiet. She wasn’t asking to judge me, not looking for a fight. She just wanted to know. She was one person that would know about Seth’s many troubles. I didn’t believe the question was snarky.
“He’s my brother,” I finally answered.
She didn’t push. Just watched me, waiting. When she finally nudged my knee with hers, it was a light touch. Quick. Fleeting. But I felt it all the same.
“That doesn’t mean he’s your responsibility,” she said.
I reached out, asking for the whiskey. She handed it over. I took a slow sip, letting the burn slide down my throat.
“He’s the only family I got,” I muttered. “Doesn’t matter if he screws up. I’m not gonna let him crash and burn.”
Portia was quiet for a moment. “I get that, but still. Doesn’t it get old?”
I chuckled. “Yes. Very. I thought he’d mellow out as he got older but it seems I was wrong.”
She sighed. “You’ve got more patience than most people.”
“Maybe. I just don’t want to give up on him. Not yet.” I glanced her way. “So, what’s your deal? Are you sticking around?”
I didn’t know why I asked. It didn’t matter. It was none of my business what she did or didn’t do.
She didn’t answer right away. I watched as she took a drink from the bottle like she was using it for a little liquid courage. “I might.”
It wasn’t much. But it was something.
We both sat in silence, watching the fire and alternating between beer and whiskey.
I should’ve gotten up. Should’ve told her goodnight and walked away before whatever this was turned into something I couldn’t put back in a box. But I didn’t.
Instead, I stayed there beside her, listening to the sound of the water lapping at the shore, pretending like it was just another night. Like she was just another person.
And for the first time, I knew that was a lie. She wasn’t just another person. She was the person I wanted to lay down on this dock, kiss until we were both lost in the throes of passion. I wanted to hear her moan my name. She’d been driving me wild since I laid eyes on her at the auction, and every passing second I spent with her made it clear there was something burning between us. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
She caught me watching her. Her gaze dropped to my mouth. That was a pretty clear indicator she was thinking the same thing I was.
I seized my chance. I leaned in, cupped her cheek, and kissed her.