Struggling Dad Helped A Woman Out Of A Bar Fight, Not Knowing She Was A Billionaire Falling For Him
An Unexpected Encounter
Franklin Porter didn’t expect to be dragging a stranger out of a dive bar by her wrist on a rainy Thursday night. But then again, nothing in his life had gone according to plan lately.
“Get your hands off me!” the woman shouted, wrenching free from the guy who’d been harassing her. The jerk stumbled, laughing.
That’s when Franklin stepped in, jaw tight, fists clenched. “Back off,” he said, standing between them.
The guy scoffed, “Who the hell are you?” “Someone you don’t want to mess with,” Franklin growled.
He didn’t even give the guy a chance to throw a punch, just shoved him back hard enough to knock over a bar stool. The bartender yelled something, but Franklin didn’t hear it.
He grabbed the woman’s hand and they bolted out into the rain. They didn’t stop running until they were two blocks away, ducking under the overhang of a closed bakery.
She was breathless, soaked, and barefoot, black heels in her hand. “So,” she said, pushing her wet hair out of her face.
“You always play superhero for drunk women in bars?” Franklin let out a breath and leaned against the wall.
“Only on Thursdays.” She laughed, really laughed, and something about it made his chest twist.
“I’m Eivelyn. Eivelyn Carter.” “Franklin. Franklin Porter.”
“Thanks for that back there,” she said, eyes softening. “I thought I could handle that idiot on my own, but I guess not.”
“You shouldn’t have had to,” he said simply. There was a beat of silence between them as the rain poured down.
“You live nearby?” he asked, glancing at her bare feet. “Not exactly.”
“My driver left me.” Franklin raised an eyebrow. “Driver?”
She winced, “Yeah, long story.” He looked down the street.
“Come on, my truck’s a few blocks over. I’ll drive you home.” She hesitated.
“You sure?” “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have offered,” he said.
He turned and started walking, glancing back once to make sure she followed. She did.
His truck was old, beat up, and had a dent in the passenger door, but it ran. He cleared the fast food wrappers from the seat, embarrassed.
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company.” Eivelyn smiled and climbed in.
“I’ve been in worse.” As they pulled onto the road, she looked over at him.
“So what’s your story, Franklin Porter? You don’t exactly scream bar regular.” He gave a half laugh.
“Single dad. Work construction during the day. Bartend on weekends.”
“Got a six-year-old daughter named Grace. She’s the best part of my life.”
Eivelyn blinked. “Wow.” He shrugged.
“She’s with my sister tonight. I had a couple hours to kill and needed a beer. Guess Fate had other plans.”
“Guess so,” she said softly. He drove her to the address she gave, somewhere in the city’s most expensive neighborhood.
“You sure this is it?” he asked, sitting in front of a towering building with gold accents and a doorman.
“Yeah,” she said, suddenly quiet. “Thanks again for everything.”
She started to open the door then paused. “Wait, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” “Do you want to get coffee sometime or maybe dinner?”
Franklin blinked. “You serious?”
Her smile was shy. “I don’t usually ask guys out, but you feel different.”
He ran a hand through his damp hair. “I don’t really do the dating thing. Grace comes first, always.”
“I respect that,” Eivelyn said. “But just one dinner? No pressure.”
He studied her then nodded slowly. “All right, one dinner.”
Her grin lit up the truck. “Tomorrow.”
He chuckled. “You don’t waste time.”
“I don’t believe in wasting chances,” Evelyn said, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Franklin.”
