EMMA

What an asshole!

With breath labored by anger I lead the way up a beautiful, sun-heated, stone path. Since I look younger than I am and everyone wants Cora’s years of expertise I’ve encountered some discreet ageism before, but his outright blasting of my competency, saying I had none, really took the cake.

So obnoxious!

Who talks to people like that?

I can’t believe that for a moment there I found him attractive. I’ve never found older men appealing but Tanner Hamilton was the first exception to my rule, had he not been such an arrogant jerk. The man has wickedly sharp, masculine features, and somehow his salt-and-pepper hair is even more attractive than if it had been still just black. Especially with how thick and wavy it is—the contrast is striking.

I scanned him as I parked the car and felt my skin tingle. The position of his stance, how those broad shoulders were so squared and confident, everything screamed power, like the world would bow down to whatever he said. I climbed out thinking that this was going to be much more fun than I had thought.

Until he called me a child.

I’ll show him who’s a child.

He is!

That’s who!  

Using the agency’s password-protected app, I remotely unlock the mansion, my face a mask of feigned yet very convincing patience.

Our footsteps echo and halt in a vast foyer devoid of furniture or dust. Empty for months, a superb cleaning company continues to tend to its needs, leaving it always primed to impress a potential buyer.

I point up, voice professional. “This chandelier was installed in 1928, but can be replaced if it’s not to your taste.”

He stubbornly crosses his arms as his long neck stretches to investigate the piece. I find myself staring at his Adam's apple, wishing I could poke it. Maybe if he coughed he’d lose the condescending look on his face.

His head slowly lowers, shadowy eyes bored as he announces, “It can stay.”

I smile, my distaste for him as a person, thinly disguised this time as I continue the tour. “Wonderful. Let me show you the main living room. There are three. The coziest, which faces the backyard, was used as an informal sitting room by the Lowrys. The larger two rooms are where they entertained guests.” As we step into a stunning, bright and open space I explain, “This molding was part of the renovation. The Spanish tile floor as well. It is unusual but that’s why they liked it, the uniqueness of its appearance. The materials are authentic, flown in from a village south of Madrid, hand-painted. You can choose any of the jewel-tones in this pattern and enhance or highlight them with the use of rugs, so don’t feel confined to one palette. But I’m sure you’ll hire a decorator. I just don’t want you to be put off by the colors. Most people want hardwood floors or cement floors now.”

“I’m not most people.”

I pause and motion toward the front of the living room. “Their original arch was preserved when the windows were torn out and reinstalled with double-paned glass. All except for the one that crowns them. The stained glass was too lovely to sacrifice.”

Our gazes hold. He says nothing, as though he doesn’t know why I’ve stopped talking.

An irritated knot twists in my chest. I turn on my heel and lead him toward a door on the far side. “This might interest you,” I begin, but Tanner cuts me off.

“How do you know what interests me?”

Surprised and with my hand settling on the copper doorknob, I lock eyes with him.

He’s so intense, this man.

I will not let him intimidate me.

“Mr. Hamilton, every powerful man I’ve ever known loves a library such as this.” I glide the door forward and we enter my favorite room in the house. “The ceiling is fourteen feet high. All the walls are deep mahogany, not just the one entirely made up of bookshelves, top to bottom. The floors, as you can see, match. Those were painstakingly reinstalled but the scarred walls are all original. There is history here that gives it a sense of magic and depth.”

The bored stare has vanished, replaced by subtle enthrallment. I’m pleased by his reaction as he walks to the rolling ladder and touches the aged wood. Standing in one place he pushes it forward and back to watch the wheels spin. Dropping his arm he steps away to get a better view, neck craning to drink in the possibilities. There are no books on the shelves now, but it seems he’s picturing them filled if he were to buy this massive home for himself.

I bet this would be his office. I can see his feet up on a glorious desk as he reads the Atlanta Journal, a steaming cup of black coffee waiting for his lips. He’d absently rake confident fingers through his hair before reaching for a sip. The door would open and he’d glance to it…

“You were right.”

Blinking back to reality I clear my throat. “Excuse me?”

“This interests me.”

Think of something witty to say.

Don’t just stand here.

What the hell is wrong with you?

“Wonderful,” I smile. “I thought you might like it.” Walking out the door and into the tiled living room I’m listening for footsteps that don’t come.

Should I go back and get him?

Pausing on the center tiles I look behind me. He’s leaning on the wall outside the library, both hands stashed in his pockets, chin dipped a little, looking at me from under his eyebrows.

“Mr. Hamilton?”

Holding my stare, a slow smirk tugs at the left corner of his mouth. “Carry on…Emma.”

He said my name like I’m a naive little girl. He still hasn’t dropped his original opinion of me? This man is waiting for a reason to end this tour, isn’t he? Send me back to the office, made insecure with the feeling I won’t be taken seriously for years. Well, that’s not going to happen.

I smile, “Right this way…Tanner,” and turn on my heel, adding in a teasing tone, “Don’t make me wait this time.”

He chuckles and pushes off the wall.  

It goes on like this through all the rooms. I talk and he listens, silent and mysterious. Sometimes he smirks which only makes me act more detached. Our eyes lock time and again, each time holding a little longer like two bulls deciding if we’re going to lock horns…or let the other live. I’d prefer the former. I’m getting to a point where I’d like to punch him and ask him who the hell he thinks he is!

This is not my first showing.

I’ve had countless commissions.

All very happy buyers.

Nobody studies properties like I do.

Not even Cora.

I go the extra mile.

Learn more.

Know more.

That’s how you succeed.

Tanner Hamilton will see that I’m the best realtor he’s ever met if I have to pound it into his patronizing head!

“Excuse me a minute, would you?” He gracefully slides his phone from his pocket and dials, lifting it to his ear and saying, “Dan, reschedule my haircut. I have to see a couple more homes today.” He hangs up and eyes me.

“Was that your assistant?”

“Clearly.”

“Did he even get a chance to talk?”

“No.”

I control a sigh, but my brows tie in a knot, telling Tanner just how ridiculous I think he is.