Page 72 of Auctioned to the Billionaire Stalker

“You cook, too?”

A bemused look crossed her face. “Sure, I cook. What do you mean ‘too’?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. It’s just… you look like you do, you’re a talented dancer, you’re smart. You’re the total package.” She blushed under my scrutiny. “And you’re kind. That might be the best thing.”

She grinned at me.

“Besides your tits and your ass.” I was only half joking.

She snorted. “Oh my God.” She waved me off and started plating up some pancakes. “Go ahead and have a seat,” she nodded her head in the direction of the dining table.

I looked down at my bare chest. “Maybe I should put on a shirt?”

“Don’t do that on my account,” she said, staring at my body.

I walked to her and pulled her in for a backwards hug as I reached around her and grabbed a piece of fruit she’d cut up for a fruit salad. I popped it in my mouth. “If you look at me like that, we’ll never eat this amazing breakfast.” I planted a quick kiss on her neck, sucking a little before letting go,and hurried to grab a shirt before meeting her back at the table.

“I hope you like pancakes,” she said.

“Who doesn’t?” I had already speared a stack of three to put on my plate and was reaching for some gourmet blueberry syrup from Maine to put on it.

“Well, I make a whole grain batter, and I used fresh blueberries, so they’re healthier than a diner version.”

I stared at her, fork halfway to my mouth, syrup dripping off it and onto my plate. “Where’d you learn to cook?”

She blinked. “Oh. Um…” she looked around, her gaze finally settling out the window where there was a view of the bay far down below. “I’m the oldest of six. I have five younger sisters.” She glanced my way. “My mom had some troubles staying on top of things like cooking and cleaning from time to time, so I pitched in.”

I nodded, acting as if I didn’t know some of what she was telling me already. I enjoyed how comfortable I felt around her. I was less awkward with her than I was with others. Like I already knew her on a deeper level. I could tell she was uncomfortable talking about her mother, so I didn’t focus on the most important part of what she’d told me—that she’d helped raise her sisters. Instead, I tried to keep things light for now. I wanted to know everything about her, but I didn’t want to rush things. “Six daughters? That’s crazy.”

She laughed, breaking the awkward moment. “It really is. You wouldn’t believe how loud and chaotic it gets when we’re all together.”

I smiled. “I have three siblings and that can get pretty wild. I can’t imagine if there were six of us.”

“That sounds nice. Are your parents as nice as your grandma?”

“I don’t know if I’d call Grandma ‘nice,’ really. She’s amazing and brilliant and wonderful… but nice?” I shook my head. “I think she’d hate that description. She’d say it’s too simple.”

“She seems really nice to me, but I get what you’re saying. I guess I’m just wondering if you’re as close to your parents asyou are to your grandma.

I thought about it for a minute, as I worked on another bite of pancakes. “Yes. I mean, we’re a close family. Grandma is my favorite person, but I’m pretty close to all of my family. And Tallon.”

“Yeah, tell me about him. How long have y’all been friends?”

So, I told her all about my early years and how Tallon and I had been put into a special program for highly gifted children. That we’d both skipped some grades and gone to college early. How we’d bonded over not fitting in anywhere but with each other, and a couple of other friends in the program.

“It sounds kind of lonely.”

I nodded. “I guess. I don’t really like people that much, though, so it was okay.”

She laughed, even though I wasn’t kidding.

She told me about her upbringing, how she’d worked really hard and gotten scholarships to go off to school. “It was always my dream to be an important businesswoman in West Bay, you know?” She looked kind of sad.

“Why can’t that still work out?”

Her eyes shot to mine. “I guess you already know if you’ve agreed to everything Carmen put in the contract.” She swallowed hard when I didn’t answer. I just looked at her, waiting patiently for her to tell me what she wanted to. “Um… my mother has always had problems with men, I guess. She got pregnant with me in high school. I don’t know who my dad is.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I’m not entirely sure Mom knows, either.” She sat back again, looking out the window.

Sometimes it’s easier to talk about difficult things without facing another person.