Poor Dad Made Her Laugh During A Bad Date Rescue, Not Knowing She Was A Billionaire Falling For Him
The Escape and the Rescue
Daphne Nalan stabbed her fork into the dry salmon, trying not to roll her eyes as Nalan Prescott launched into yet another story about his yacht. He told the captain, “If we can’t dock in Monaco, we’ll just throw the party in St. Tropz instead”.
He said this while tossing his designer blonde hair like it was rehearsed. She forced a smile.
“Wow, sounds spontaneous.”
She didn’t know what was more painful: the overpriced food at the rooftop restaurant or the fact that Nalan kept calling her “babe” like they were already in a relationship. Daphne glanced at her phone screen, the time ticking painfully slow.
She’d only agreed to this date to get her stepmother off her back. “You need someone refined, Daphne, not a barista or a driver,” her stepmother had said. “A man who understands your world.”
Her world, as if money had ever made her feel like she belonged anywhere. She pushed her chair back.
“I need some air.”
The moment she stepped onto the sidewalk, the cold Manhattan wind hit her like a slap. She didn’t care. She started walking, her heels clicking fast, needing a break from hollow conversations and even hollower men.
“Babe, where are you going?” Nalin called after her. “Haven’t told you about my vineyard yet!”
She didn’t answer. A block down, she passed a small food truck with a crooked chalkboard sign that read, “Don’t be sad, get a hot dog.” Behind it stood a man with dark, tassled hair and sleeves rolled up.
He was flipping a sausage with one hand and bouncing a giggling little girl on his hip with the other.
“Gina, if you squirt ketchup on my shirt again, you’re going to owe me a new one,” he said, laughing.
The girl, maybe five or six, squealed, “But you said your shirt only cost five dollars, Daddy!”
“Yeah, well, inflation.”
Daphne surprised herself by laughing out loud. The man turned, caught her eye, and smiled. This was not the practiced kind her dates gave; this one was warm and real. He leaned slightly toward her.
“Rough night?”
She blinked.
“That obvious?”
He nodded toward her heels. “You’re walking like someone just told you dinner was going to be three courses of ego.”
She cracked up.
“That’s actually exactly what happened.”
He grinned and handed her a paper-wrapped hot dog. “On the house. You look like you need it more than I need three bucks.”
She hesitated, then took it.
“You don’t even know me.”
“Neither does the guy you just ditched, apparently.”
She laughed again, biting into the hot dog. It was messy, greasy, and absolutely perfect.
“I’m Jackson Keller,” he said, wiping his hands. “That’s Gina. She’s the real boss around here.”
Gina waved her ketchup-covered hands proudly.
“Hi, Daphne,” she said, licking mustard from her thumb. “And you just saved me from the worst date of my life.”
Jackson leaned on the counter, studying her. “You don’t look like someone who usually gets saved by hot dog guys.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I’ve been hanging out with the wrong guys.”
He laughed. “Well, I make a mean chili dog and I’m a world-class balloon animal artist on Saturdays, so kind of a full package.”
“I’m impressed.”
“You should be.”
She liked him a little too much, which was a problem. No one ever saw the real her, not after the tabloids and not after her father died and left her with billions.
She was left with a cold penthouse and a stepmother who treated her like a business asset. She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want him to treat her like Nalin did, either.
She said nothing. Instead, she leaned on the counter and said, “Tell me more about these balloon animals.”
Jackson’s eyes lit up. “Well, there was this giraffe that looked more like a worm, but Gina said it had character.”
“I gave it to my teacher,” Gina added proudly.
Daphne stayed for almost an hour, laughing until her cheeks hurt. People walked past them on the sidewalk, but she didn’t care. For once, she wasn’t a billionaire or a headline; she was just a girl eating a hot dog.
When she finally said goodbye, Jackson handed her a napkin with his number scribbled on it.
“In case you ever need a rescue again.”
She smiled.
“Thanks, Jackson.”
He paused. “Hey, Daphne? You deserve better than that guy. Just so you know.”
She walked away with hot dog grease on her fingers and a flutter in her chest. For the first time in a long time, she felt seen.
