Page 1 of Make You Mine

Chapter1

Ren

“Before I sign the check, I want you to meet my granddaughter.”

Damn it.

To be clear, I was never against meeting anyone’s granddaughter. But Iwasagainst being set up with one, especially when the introduction subtly hinted that her donation hinged upon it.

“Ah, nothing like romance born out of mild obligation.” I tried to keep my expression neutral as she patted her purse and winked at me.

“Pardon me?”

“Your granddaughter sounds like a wild temptation, Mrs. Ross.”

Think of the center, think of the center.

“She’s a good girl. You’re going to love her.”

I didn’t bother returning her smile. She never noticed anyway. This was the worst part of this job, and I’d rather be anywhere else right now. I could feel my frustration mounting with every interaction. The furrow of my brow was going to give me away if it got any deeper. God, my head pounded. I needed to get out of here.

Twinkling lights and shimmering candles filled my vision as my gaze drifted around the room, adorned with flower-bedecked tables, bouquets resting on pedestals, and elegantly dressed guests. These dinners aimed to bring donors and charities together. Two hundred fifty guests filled the grand ballroom of this upscale hotel in Portland, Oregon, tonight. But damn it, I’d forgotten the name of the place. These events were beginning to blur in my mind.

I wassoincredibly fortunate to meet every daughter, granddaughter, sister, niece, cousin, and best friend of marriageable age—all sarcasm intended—tonight. Somehow, instead of attending a charity dinner, I found myself trapped in an alternate reality version ofThe Bachelor, encountering woman after woman, yet I had no desire to get married again. All I wanted was to go home, crack open a beer, and relax in front of the TV rather than endure whatever version of hell this might be.

I couldn’t even get drunk. The glass of champagne in my hand was for toasting, not drinking. My reputation had to remain untarnished. As the face of a growing charity, image was everything. With a yank, I pulled my chair out and sat back down, shoving a tiny quiche into my mouth while I went through my mental list of excuses I could use to get out of here.

My younger brother and I established Lyla’s Place, a women’s center to honor our mother. We provided self-defense classes, a GED program, referrals for mental health care, and legal services.

Apparently, I failed to realize that to raise funds, I needed to includemyselfon the list of things we offered. But I was not charming. Banter and casual flirting were not my strengths, and I was uninterested in playing games, especially since I’d never known the rules.

“Fuck,” I muttered beneath my breath.

“Go on. Get out of here.” Lost in thought, I jumped as a hand gripped my shoulder. “You can go home.” My brother, Jake, had returned to our table after his trip to the bathroom. He grinned and took his seat across from me. “I’ve got this. You’ve done enough tonight.”

I glanced around the ballroom again as memories of our old apartment flooded back. The stark contrast between my current life and the run-down apartment we had once shared with our mother and sister was undeniable.

I worked hard to get to this point. I joined the Marines to help pay for my education, which I followed with college and law school. Afterward, I entered family law, specifically helping women secure everything they deserved from their worthless husbands—something my mother could never afford.

I wanted to help people, to step in in all the ways no one had stepped in for my family. I didn’t want any part of this spectacle tonight. I wanted to do my job. I wanted to talk about how many women and children Lyla’s Place could help rather than put on an expensive suit and become the preening asshole everyone seemed to expect me to be.

So, yeah, the thought of cutting out early to go home was almost irresistible.

“Are you sure? How did tonight turn into a matchmaking thing again? I don’t understand how this keeps happening. I’m done with this.” I said with a low growl of frustration. “Do you know how hard it is to keep fucking smiling and being pleasant to strangers? I want to help people without having to?—”

“Speak to people?” My brother supplied helpfully, grinning at me over the rim of his glass of champagne. ‘I understand, and once Violet is ready to socialize again, we can take over doing this if you want.” They had a new baby at home. His wife was still recovering. “Look, you’re a good guy—successful, not bad to look at. You’re also single, and everyone knows it. That’s why they keep trying.”

I looked away, frowning. “Yeah, but it’s not fair to you when Violet isn’t here to keep you company.”

“Don’t worry about me. Now that I’m happily married and off the market, they’ll bounce right off my deflector shield.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and showed me yet another picture of my adorable baby niece. “Just look at her, man. All I have to do is pull this out and soak in the compliments.”

“She is the cutest.” I huffed a cynical laugh. “Though you being married with a baby won’t stop some of them from trying, you know that, right?”

He set his jaw and raised an eyebrow. “It will. I’m not worried about it.”

“I love that for you.”

Shit.

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