Peyton

 

 

“Peyton, I need you to do me a favor.”

I looked up from the computer and could tell by the look on my boss’s face that I wasn’t going home anytime soon.

“Uh, sure, John,” I replied, glancing at the clock. It was Friday, almost five o’clock, and I’d made plans to meet up with some girlfriends for dinner. It was our monthly get-together and I’d been looking forward to it all week.

“A guy just called and he wants to look at the house on Bush Street. Tonight. I’m showing a couple of houses myself in another area and can’t make it,” he said with the phony smile that told me he was full of shit. I knew why he didn’t want to show the place; it was cheap and the commission check would barely cover his monthly dining expenses.

“I’m not a realtor,” I reminded him. In fact, I was just a part-time, underpaid administrative assistant who made more money waitressing at Olive Garden part-time.

“No, but all you have to do is open up the house for this guy and let him take a look around. I already explained that you weren’t a realtor.”

So, he’d already set it up, expecting me to agree.

Asshole.

I forced a smile to my face. As much as I wanted to tell him where to go, I still needed this job and he knew it, too. “What time?” I asked, pulling out my cell phone.

“He’s on his way there right now.”

I chewed on my lower lip.

That wasn’t too bad.

Hopefully, I could get him in and out quickly and still meet up with my friends.

“What if he asks questions about the place?”

He gave me the look. The one that made me feel like an idiot. “Just show him the house flyer we created and tell him that I’ll call him in the morning.”

“Okay,” I replied, signing out of my computer. I looked up at him, suddenly wondering if it was safe to meet a strange man alone like that. “Wait a second, is it safe?”  

“Safe? What do you mean?”

“You know… I’m meeting him alone. We don’t know much about him.”

He smirked. “Of course, it’s safe. He found the house on my online listings and thought he’d be meeting with a man in the first place. He sounds like a serious buyer and not”—he snorted—“someone out to commit a felony.”

“Okay,” I replied, feeling like I’d made a fool out of myself by even asking. John had a way of making me feel naïve and incompetent at times.

“Seriously, you’re safe. Now, on the other hand, if it was Diana,” John said as one of the other realtors walked into the room—a woman he obviously had the hots for, “I’d have to send out a bodyguard. How’s it going, gorgeous?”

Diana, who was blonde and perfect in every way because of her bodacious implants, a few nips and tucks, along with her semi-annual Botox appointments, smiled at him. “Awesome. I think I sold the house on York Street.”

John’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding? The one for two-million?”

“Yes,” she squealed, doing a little dance. “Can you believe it? And it just went on the market today!”

“You are amazing. You know, we should go out and celebrate,” he replied. “I bet I could get us in at Manny’s Steakhouse tonight.”

I wanted to ask if that was before or after doing the showings, but held my tongue. It was obvious, more than ever, that he was a real dick.

Diana’s smile froze and I could see the wheels spinning in her head. I knew that deep down, having dinner with him was the last thing she wanted. “Sorry, John. But I have other plans. Besides, I wouldn’t want to jinx the deal,” she replied, trying to let him off easily.

“Oh. Well, I understand,” he said, looking disappointed. “We’ll wait until after the closing. Raincheck?”

“Uh, sure,” she said, laughing nervously before heading toward her office. 

I cleared my throat. “Okay, then. I guess I’m off to meet your guy, since you’re so busy. I hope sending me isn’t a mistake,” I added. “I’d hate to lose a sale for you.”

“If he seems really interested, call me,” said John, looking distracted. “Don’t forget the flyer.”

“I’ve got it right here,” I replied, reaching for the file folder with the Bush house information. “By the way, what’s his name?”

“Dominic Savage,” he answered.

Interesting name, I thought.

 

***

 

The house was about twenty minutes away, and in a neighborhood that made one want to lock their car doors. If that wasn’t bad enough, when I arrived and saw the man parked in the driveway, I almost peed my pants. Not only was he big and muscular, but he wore a leather jacket with patches that read Gold Vipers. I’d heard of the notorious biker club, but didn’t know that any of the members were living in Minnesota. They were dangerous and had been mentioned in the news a few times. I started having an argument with myself.

Turn around and leave. John would understand.

Right…

I parked my car behind his motorcycle and noticed that my hands trembled as I picked up the house flyer.

For God’s sake. You can do this…

Taking a deep breath, I forced a smile to my face and got out of the vehicle.

“Hello, you must be Dominic Savage?” I said, walking over to him with my hand outstretched to shake his.

“Yes,” he replied, smiling warmly. He held his hand out. “Just call me Dom.”

“My name is Peyton.” Before I made it to him, my heel caught on some kind of crack in the driveway. Tripping and squealing, I did a very ungraceful face-plant, landing in front of Dom’s pointy, brown cowboy boots.

“Oh, shit. Are you okay?” he asked, bending down.

Humiliated, I took the hand he offered and stood up. “Thank you. I’m fine, actually,” I replied, although I was far from it. My knees, palms, and chin were sore from hitting asphalt and my favorite black slacks were ruined. As much as I wanted to scream in rage, I clenched my jaw and managed to hold it together. I was both humiliated and proud of myself.

Dom stared at me with concern. He waved his finger in front of his face. “Your chin is bleeding.”

I touched it, staring at the blood spots on my fingers. “Oh. Well.” I looked up at him and snorted. “Talk about making an entrance, huh?”

He grinned. “I have to admit, yours is very unique.”

I noticed that, for a rough, biker guy, Dom was very handsome up close. Tan with dark eyes and dimples that probably got him in and out of all kinds of trouble. I suddenly understood why so many women were attracted to bad boys. At least the hot ones.

“To be honest, I’m quite a klutz. I’ve even mastered the art of tripping over absolutely nothing. My mother used to follow me around with a video camera hoping she’d catch something funny so she could send it to Tosh 2.0,” I said, noticing that I was rambling.

He chuckled. “I’m not exactly graceful myself,” said Dom. He tapped his nose. “I once broke this trying to impress a girl using a skateboard.”

His nose was slightly crooked but it definitely gave him character. “Oh, were you showing off by doing tricks?”

“Not exactly. The skateboard was hers,” he explained, “and I’d never used one, but had to try and prove something. Anyway, I kicked off on the damn thing and ended up in a ditch, my ego damaged and my nose pointed in a different direction.”

I smiled. “How old were you?” I reached into my purse and took out a small, plastic package of tissues. I pulled one out and began blotting my chin, feeling more at ease with Dom by the minute.

“Fifteen.”

“What happened to the girl?”

His lips twitched. “She helped nurse me back to health.”

Looking at him, I’d want to play nurse, too. I imagined that even as a teenager, he’d been gorgeous. “Well, good. It all worked out in the end.”

“Yeah.”

“Am I still bleeding?” I asked, still dabbing at the tissue.

He squinted. “It looks like it’s stopped.”

“Oh, good.”

I shoved the tissue into my purse and motioned toward the small, yellow bungalow house. “So, I suppose you’d like to get a look inside?”

He nodded. “I have to say, it looked better online.”

I had to agree. It was an older home, built in the seventies, and probably hadn’t been painted since then. The walkway leading to the steps was in bad shape, the roof looked like it needed to be replaced, and the garage door had a large hole at the bottom. I could only imagine the kind of animals hiding inside.

“Maybe it’s better on the inside?” I replied, walking toward the house.

“Have you been in it?”

“No,” I replied, walking up the stoop. I began opening up the lock-box. “But, I’ve seen the pictures on the Internet.”

“The house is obviously empty. How long has it been on the market?”

“About five months. The previous owner moved out of state.”

“Is he desperate to sell?” asked Dom, he scanned the yard, which also needed work. “I would think he would be.”

“I’m sorry. I really don’t know. You’ll have to ask John. He’ll be in tomorrow.” I unlocked the door and we walked inside.

“It’s small,” he said, looking around the living room, his hands on his hips. “And smells musty.”

There definitely was a dank smell and even I could tell already that this house needed a lot of work.

“Maybe it just needs some fresh air,” I replied, although it was obvious it needed much more than that.

“It needs a complete overhaul, more like.” He sighed. “So, it says there are three bedrooms?”

I took out the flyer and nodded. “Yes. Let’s go and take a look.”

We first checked out the master bedroom, which was really small, and he wasn’t impressed. Then, we walked into a guest bedroom, one that was painted bright pink.

“Wow,” he said, looking around. “The owner must have had a daughter.”

“Let’s hope,” I replied, thinking that the color was a little too bright. “Do you have any children?”

He was quiet for a few seconds and then gave me an answer I wasn’t expecting. “I might.”