Damaged: The Dillon Sisters

by Layla Frost

  I tip my head and ignore the puppy vying for my attention. I can’t focus on anything else but the half-naked, angry man in front of me. “I’m sorry.”

  His expression barely shows any patience. “Why are you sorry?”

  “Because I know firsthand it’s not fun to be guilted into anything. It’s stressful.”

  “This isn’t stressful.” He lifts his chin toward the chaos around us. “It’s irritating.”

  “I stick with my earlier sentiment—I’m sorry.”

  He shakes his head and starts to turn. “If you’re not interested—”

  “I never said I didn’t want a pet,” I interrupt and he halts mid-turn. “I said I never had one. I work long hours, but my sister works at the shelter and loves animals.”

  He hikes a brow again and this time there’s condemnation laced through his tone. “So you’re going to guilt your sister into taking care of a dog you don’t have time for?”

  If I were sitting in my office in my favorite chair where I’m most comfortable, I’d be able to handle this … handle him. Instead of deflecting whatever frustration or anger he’s not trying to hide, I say nothing. For the first time in a long time, I’m at a loss for words.

  He shakes his head. “Got it. I’ll keep roaming the damn room until he finds a home and this shit show is over.”

  With nothing on my mind but my damn list—its top item blinking like a neon sign in my brain reminding me why I’m here—I swallow my nerves and steady my voice before he has a chance to turn away from me for good. “Maybe I need a pet.”

  His dark eyes narrow, questioning every word I utter. I don’t blame him, I’m questioning my judgments, motives, and words, as well.

  “I just … see, all I do is work. My sister doesn’t need me as much as she used to. Being needed will give me balance. At least that’s what I tell people. Might as well live by my own advice, right?”

  “Don’t make commitments you can’t keep.”

  They might be simple words, but, from him, they feel like a slap and a warning. Little does he know, I made a vow long ago I’d never allow anyone to control me by delivering power plays like that. I’ve learned how to draw the line.

  I deliver my words with a bite. “I’ve never made a commitment I haven’t kept. Ever.”

  By his expression, I must’ve caught him off guard, but I don’t wait for a response. I look back to the excited pup at my feet, pulling this way and that, not knowing what to focus on with all the activity. I bend at the knees again and he comes straight to me, flopping on his back for a belly rub.

  “He likes you—” the hero starts, but we’re interrupted.

  “Oh-Em-Gee, look at this one!”

  I’m forced to stand when we’re surrounded by a group of women flashier than a disco ball. From platinum locks to fake bronze to high-pitched squeals, I’ve lost the attention of the dog as he has a slew of new women to dote on him.

  The one in red slithers between me and the firefighter. “What station are you with?”

  I take a sip and expel a relieved sigh when I realize his disdain isn’t only directed at me. “Sorry, not into sharing where I work.”

  “But isn’t that why you’re here? To be auctioned off?” Long, highlighted hair sways in front of me and her crimson painted index finger taps him on the pec. “There might just be a bidding war over you.”

  “That’d be a waste of your money,” he mutters and turns to leave with the dog.

  I watch him walk away, every lat moving in symphony with one another, as he stalks through the room without stopping to speak to another soul until we lose sight of him altogether.

  “Wow, what’s with him?” one woman complains. “Every other man we’ve talked to is chasing ass as much as we are.”

  The rest chime in and start to gnaw on him like vultures would roadkill. Since I listen to people for a living, I have no desire to hear them talk about the man’s less-than-winning personality. I decide it’s time to find Kate before I do something rash, like bid on a dog I have no time for and end up on a date with an intimidating man who wants no part of this.

  I head to the bar for one more glass of wine because Kate is right, there’s no point in wasting an Uber. Everyone in this room is vying for the attention of the opposite sex—it will be easy to blend into the background.

  With a fresh drink, I spot Kate across the room sidling up to the blond with the Dachshund. She might be fawning over the dog, but she definitely has puppy eyes for the man standing at least eight inches taller than her. Unlike the only man who’s given me any attention tonight, hers might as well be oozing sex from his perfectly-smooth skin. He leans in to say something but stops when the emcee booms across the ballroom speakers to announce the auction will start in five minutes.

  All canines and heroes make their way to the front of the room and disappear behind a curtained wall next to the stage. The doodle and his handler are one of the last pairs to disappear, the man not giving one ounce of attention to any woman he leaves in his wake.

  It doesn’t take long for Kate to find me. Excitement is etched all over her face as she hurries across the room through the crowds of women who have their bidding paddles ready to wave.

  “I don’t give a shit about our pact,” she starts before she even reaches me. “I’m going to do it! His name is Clay. When he’s not fighting fires, he’s a carpenter. And when he’s not building bookshelves for his mom, he’s trying new recipes because, get this—” She grabs me and it looks like she might shed happy tears. My wine sloshes for the second time tonight as she gives me a little shake. “He likes to cook. Do you hear me, Aria? He. Likes. To. Cook. You know how much I love food! I think it’s meant to be!”

  I pull out of her hold to salvage what wine I have left and shake my head. “Everyone loves food. That doesn’t make you soulmates.”

  “But I really love food and I really like when someone else prepares it.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re a match made in the kitchen.”

  She lowers her voice and turns to stand next to me so we’re both facing the stage. “I saw you talking to Mr. Broody. Please tell me you talked about something other than your job.”

  I frown. “I don’t always talk about my work.”

  “Not the good stuff anyway … just random shit about how busy you are. You need to get laid more than anyone in this room.”

  “I’m trying to get my practice going, but thank you for reminding me about my lack of life,” I mutter and take another gulp.

  Kate nabs my thin purse from under my arm and digs out the bidding paddle I received when we checked in. I smashed it in there as best I could since I knew I wasn’t going to use it.

  Kate shoves my clutch back at me and smooths the wrinkled paddle. “You’re checking something else off your list tonight. We’re gonna find you a man.”

  I grab the paddle from her. “A man is not on my list. Besides, have you seen the women here? They’re exhaling money. Even if I had the time or the inclination to bid, there’s no way I can afford it. Not with my rent and student loans.”

  “That’s what credit cards are for,” she argues.

  “No. Credit cards are for emergencies.”

  She stares me straight in the eyes. “This is an emergency, Aria. A nine-one-one, four-alarm, all-hands-on-deck emergency. This is me saving you from your pathetic life. It has to happen.”

  “No.” I shake my head and turn back to the stage that looks like something between a dog park and the set from Magic Mike. Lights bounce around the stage like a pathetic Vegas show and fire hydrants glow bright red. Music, reminding me of a strip show from a bachelorette party I once attended, vibrates from the monstrous speakers.

  There’s no way I’m bidding. I came here to watch, that’s it. Nothing more.

  Kate snakes her arm through mine. “Get ready. By the end of the night we’ll both be dog owners with the potential of love on the horizon.”

  Shit.

  “If
not love, then at least maybe some rocking orgasms,” she adds.

  If I follow any of Kate’s advice, the only thing on my horizon will be an ulcer.

  Chapter 2

  The Auction

  Aria

  “GOING ONCE, TWICE, three times…”

  Kate bounces on her toes as she looks across the room toward her main competition. The woman who ran up the bid on Kate’s newest obsession glares back.

  “Going to the pretty blonde in the red dress for three-thousand, five-hundred, and twenty dollars. Paddle number six-four-two-seven. Congratulations, little lady, you’ve got yourself a Dachshund and a date with Clay.”

  Kate screeches as she throws her arms around my neck. “I won!”

  “I can’t believe you just did that. So much for paying off your debt.”

  “I don’t care! Okay, I’ve got to go pay. Shit, I hope I have enough credit and I’m not denied the transaction.” She doesn’t stop bouncing. “You’re next. I had no idea your guy would be right after mine. Don’t let me down, Aria. You need this. If you chicken out, I’ll literally kill you myself!”

  My lids fall shut and I pull in a calming breath. At least twenty dogs and firefighters have been auctioned off. The dollar amounts are staggering and Briar will be ecstatic since she works at the shelter. At least as ecstatic as Briar is capable of being. My sister’s range of emotions fall between sarcasm and the driest of humor.

  “Do it,” she demands and pushes the bidding paddle to my chest. “Don’t think, don’t examine your feelings, don’t focus on the consequences. Just raise your number, dammit. It’s all you have to do. Your brown, curly fur ball is waiting on you and the broody man isn’t bad either. Who knows? Maybe he’s broken, and you can fix him. Just think about how much you’ll get off on that.”

  “I don’t need to fix everyone.”

  “If you say so, Miss Fix-It.”

  “Ladies, are you ready?” The announcer’s voice rumbles through the room and I look from Kate to the stage. “Get those paddles ready. We have one last dog and date to auction off. Remember, one hundred percent of your donations go toward caring for animals like these, making sure they have happy, forever homes. Redmond Rescue never turns an animal away. From food to medical care, we’re determined to find each one a loving human. And, bonus, tonight you big spenders will get a night out with one of our bachelor firefighters who have donated their … ahem, time to the cause.”

  Kate pokes me in the ribs harder than necessary. “Be a strong bitch, Aria. You can do it! Now, say a prayer my credit card isn’t denied.”

  And, with that, she’s gone.

  I finally breathe a sigh of relief. If I weren’t sharing a ride home with Kate, I’d escape right now. I came, I did what I wanted to do, and can check tonight off my list, once and for all.

  “His name is Brando, but he goes by Brand, and he’s thirty-seven years young,” the announcer starts.

  Brand.

  I look left to the stage. There he is, this time holding the doodle at his side, his bicep flexing with every move.

  “I mean, he looks like a Brando. Right, ladies? When he’s not fighting fires or performing mouth-to-mouth, he’s … ah …” The announcer tips his head and flips this card over and back, then shrugs. “Well, Brando is somewhat of a mystery, I see. The highest bidder will just have to figure him out on their own. More fun for you.”

  Jealousy eats at me. All of a sudden, I hate the highest bidder and the bidding hasn’t even started.

  “Brand’s little pooch won’t be little for long. The vet thinks he might grow to be about fifty pounds. He was rescued from a puppy mill and our volunteers tell us this little guy is friendly and loyal to everyone he meets. He’s almost housebroken and probably not a guard dog, but he’d be perfect for a family.”

  Well, there you go. Another reason I don’t need to bid on a dog or a man. I don’t have a family, nor do I plan on starting one in the near future, or far one.

  “One thousand!”

  I turn and find a woman who looks older than Brand raising her paddle. Probably in her mid-forties, she’s beautiful—dripping in diamonds, bursting with Botox, and radiating self-esteem.

  “Two thousand!” another voice comes from across the room.

  “Twenty-five hundred!”

  “You ladies are anxious.” The announcer’s bright smile shines and he eggs on the crowd. “Remember, this is the last date and dog of the night. You won’t get this chance again until next year. And who knows, Brand here might be snatched up by then!”

  Brand glares and isn’t doing anything to raise his bids, unlike the others who played to the audience. It doesn’t look like he’s going to allow anyone to snatch him anytime soon.

  “Four thousand.” I turn and the cougar looks as serious as Brand as she ups the bid.

  I look back at Brand and my breath catches. Even through the bright lights, his dark eyes find mine. He hitches the doodle up in his arms and his frown deepens.

  “Six thousand!” is shouted from across the room.

  Shit.

  “Now, this is exciting!” the announcer bellows into the microphone. “We haven’t seen six thousand all night. Seems the ladies are into broody, and Brand here might just be your golden ticket. Do I hear seven?”

  “Seven.”

  My head whips around. The cougar is not happy as she lowers her paddle and crosses her arms.

  “Give me eight thousand! C’mon, let’s do this for the homeless animals.”

  A murmur blankets the room as women glance at one another, waiting for the next diamond to drop.

  “Seven thousand,” the announcer warns. “Going once…”

  I look back at the cougar. Her lips tip on one side. Damn. She’s smug as hell.

  “Twice.”

  I turn back to the stage and Brand looks as if he couldn’t be more miserable.

  Fuck.

  You don’t not need to fix everyone, Aria.

  “Three—” The announcer’s voice rises.

  “Eight thousand.”

  The announcer squints through the stage lights, into the crowd. “Where did that come from?”

  My stomach drops.

  I raise my paddle and stares from around the room weigh heavy on my soul.

  I’ll have to work more overtime to pay for this and I’m already at sixty hours a week. Not to mention, Briar is going to have words for me. I have no business making a commitment to a pet right now.

  I clear my throat and speak clearly—it’s been ingrained into me ever since I could remember, after all. “Eight thousand.”

  Brand stares me down, not a hint of emotion etching his beautiful olive skin.

  “Nine thousand.”

  I turn, and unlike Brand, emotion is bleeding from the cougar—anger pouring off of her in waves.

  I turn back to the announcer and raise my paddle with conviction this time. “Ten!”

  A whoop, a holler, and a bit of applause erupt around me, but I pay them no attention.

  “Ten thousand, five hundred.”

  I don’t give the cougar the satisfaction of a glance. I’m committed to the game at this point and ignore all thoughts of how many hours I’ll have to bill to pay for this…

  This …

  Obsession.

  I’m not proud of it but there’s no other way to describe it.

  I raise my paddle again. “Eleven.”

  It’s small but I don’t miss it—Brand shakes his head.

  “Eleven-five.”

  Damn the cougar.

  “Twelve,” I counter, refusing to give her the satisfaction of my attention.

  Her bid is swift. “Twelve-five.”

  I expel all the air in my lungs and scrutinize the man and the dog, both of whom I’m allowing to control my future. Money I can’t afford to spend on anything but student loans, or saving for a small down payment on a tiny house. Or, who knows, maybe a splurge on a good pair of shoes that aren’t dupes.

&n
bsp; My paddle—bent, wrinkled, and crushed since I had no plans for it to see any action tonight—finds the space above my head. “Fifteen thousand.”

  Brand’s eyes narrow and the doodle, as if understanding the worth of the hard-earned dollar, barks.

  I don’t dare turn to see what my competition is doing and pray the small fortune I pledged is enough since my one and only credit card maxes out at sixteen thousand.

  “Well, I’ll be!” The announcer waves his hand in the air and I remotely wonder if he doubles as a Southern Baptist preacher. “When they asked me to volunteer to lead tonight’s auction, I never—never—thought it would get as exciting as this. Fifteen-thousand dollars for a floppy-eared puppy and a date with a local hero. This is drama made for cable TV, if I’ve ever seen it. Do I hear sixteen?”

  Please, no.

  “Fifteen-five?” he eggs.

  I swallow the bile that bubbles in my throat like the cauldron I’m about to dive into headfirst.

  Female murmurs return and the hair on my arms stands straight. I hold my breath waiting for something.

  Anything.

  “Fifteen. Going once…”

  Holy shit.

  “Going twice…”

  What have I done?

  “Three times!”

  I gasp as a beacon of light blinds me and I curse the audacity that masked itself as bravery just hours ago.

  Bravery, my ass.

  Consequences can be life changing. I fear I’ve tickled the beast.

  I jerk at the slam of the gavel, sealing my fate. “The broody Brand and happy pup go to bidder six-four-two-eight, the lovely lady in black with a philanthropic heart.”

  Philanthropic my ass.

  As cheers erupt around me, I don’t waste any time. With the damn paddle in my sweaty grip, I turn on my cheap heel and head for the back of the room.

  When I exit the ballroom doors, Kate is nowhere to be found, but there is a line at the table where I’m supposed to pay for my overwhelming obsession. I ignore every woman waiting and cut straight to the front. “Excuse me, I’m a doctor. I’ve been called out on an emergency. I need to pay for the damage.”