Damaged: The Dillon Sisters by Layla Frost (good story books to read .txt) 📕

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