Page 9 of Auctioned to the Billionaire

“I’ll cook for us.”

“What?”

“When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

“The assistant to a defense contractor,” she says flippantly and I grin.

“So, you’re living the dream then, huh?”

“Isn’t that obvious? What did you want to be?”

“A fireman.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“The hours and benefits were better in the military. Plus, I wanted away from my hometown and that was a quick way to do that.”

“Why?”

“My mom passed away, and my dad and I were…well, we never got along. I wasn’t the son that he wanted.”

“How is that possible? You’re some bigshot, billionaire, badass hero!”

“That’s a lot of b’s,” I joke.

“It’s true. How could he not be proud of you?”

“I don’t know. I guess a lifetime of practice makes it easy for him.”

“I’m sorry, Hugh. He should be proud of you. You’re a good man,” she says softly.

We share a smile, and I can see her soften. I guess this is the most that she’s learned about me since she started working for me, too.

“I’ll help you clean up,” she says as I gather our dishes.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” I say, and she blinks.

“You know that you don’t have to ask. You bought me, so the way I figure, I’m yours for the next twenty-four hours.”

“I don’t want that,” I tell her, and it’s the truth.

I hate having the money hanging over us, but I hate having a clock there too, even more.

Although, I have always worked best under pressure.

“Have dinner with me because you want to.”

“Like a date?” She asks, and I nod.

“Yeah, it’s a date.”

She pauses, and nerves hit me hard. I swear that I stop breathing until she finally smiles softly and nods.

“Alright. Dinner tonight.”

I nod and try not to show how relieved I feel.

“I need to get some work done,” I tell her.

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