EMMA

One week, four days, and twenty-two houses later, we’re still pushing each other’s buttons. When I’ve exhausted all aspects of the final showing of today I realize I don’t want to return to the office just yet.

“There is another house of ours up the road if you’d like to see it,” I offer. “It’s a little smaller, that’s why I didn’t think it would interest you.”

He’s come to trust that I’ve learnt his tastes, and have good instincts, so I expect him to turn me down.

He opens his palm. “We’ll take my car.”

“Afraid of walking?”

His eyebrows lift. “That close?”

“Three houses. We can drive if it’s too much for you.”

His lips twitch. “We’ll walk.”

Through the next mansion my tour plays out in exactly the same manner as all of the others. Mostly his jaw remains tight while mine won’t stop yapping. As usual I continuously catch him staring at me in a way that is unsettling. Not in the bad way, but in the good.

We run out of rooms—even the attic has been explored—and now that we have nothing left to look at, we’re standing on the front porch, staring out at the street, silent.

Neither of us is making a move to return to our cars.

Tanner coughs and looks up. “Nice day.”

“It is,” I reply. After more awkward silence I ask him, “Did you know that it rains more in Atlanta than in Seattle?”

He eyes me. “That true?”

“Yes, I dated a reporter at CNN briefly and he told me.”

“Why don’t they publicize that?”

“Maybe because it’s sunny here most of the time, and in Seattle it’s gloomy, so it feels worse. Here it’s more like Hawaiian weather, tropical. Not today, light humidity today. But when it is raining and warm, it’s very much like that, often the sun peeking out quickly afterward. Gorgeous. Not all shadows and darkness.”

Tanner eyes me then fixates on the sky, grabbing his wrist behind his back, both elbows bent in an L-shape. “You store a lot in that brain, Emma, don’t you?”

Descending the short row of steps I casually tease him, “That’s what it’s for, isn’t it?”

Behind me I hear him say, “I want to see that one.”

Following his pointed forefinger to a For Sale sign just up the street on the opposite side, I blurt, “That’s not one of ours,” before I realize that doesn’t make me look good. Glancing to him I stand straighter. “I’ll call the number and get the code from them.”

“Good girl.”

Rolling my eyes I unlock my phone. Giving my name wouldn’t impress the other agency, unfortunately. A fact which Tanner knows. He said it himself that I’m just her underling.

Cora has been very impressed that Mr. Hamilton is so interested in buying a home from us. Every time I tell her he’s scheduled more showings she smiles, “Good good.” Especially of this size and price, what’s not to be happy about?

He walks toward the other mansion, tilting his head as he appraises its value to him. I’ve seen this look repeatedly, but it’s what everyone does. You have to find the right home for you, and we all have specific details we won’t budge on, especially rich men like this jerk.

I narrow an annoyed look at him while telling our competitor, “Hi there, I’m with Cora Williamson Realty and I need the password or keypad code for one of your estates.”

Over his shoulder he glances back, smirking as he catches me checking out his ass. “See something you like, Emma?”

Sighing I ignore his question and give the other agency the new address, memorizing the password they give before I get an uninvited promise that if this sale goes through they’ll be generous with splitting the commission, but it won’t be 50-50.

“We’ll talk about financials if the need arises. Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” We say goodbye and hang up.

“Are they being fair?” he asks on our way to the property.

“They don’t have to be.”

He pauses.

Stopping, I wait for him. After a moment of silence we continue onward, but under his breath, almost to himself he says, “I’ll make sure they’re fair and then some.”

Are you being shrewd or kind?

I can’t tell which.

Inside, whenever we enter a new room I read the notes emailed to me from our competitor. I even email them questions when I find intriguing things missing from their list that might make Tanner happy to know more about. It takes time but he never shows impatience, so I remain thorough and relaxed as we make our way through unfamiliar territory.

In a guest bedroom on the south side I scan my phone and tell him, “It says here this fireplace doesn’t work.”

“We wouldn’t need it.”

My eyelashes flash up. His face betrays no humor this time. I glance to his ring finger. It’s naked, and there is no tan line, either. It’s not the first time I’ve checked. But it’s the first time he’s seen.

Tanner rolls his eyes. “Women, you’re all the same.”

Annoyed, I toss back, “Oh? And how is that? We don’t want a married man hitting on us, or are you accusing us of wanting marriage?”

“Yes,” he flatly replies, eyes dead.

I stare at him, mouth twisting at his quippy, blanketed generalization and deliberate non-answer.

“For your information, Mr. Hamilton, I do want to get married someday. And soon would be nice.”

That sharp chin of his angles up like he’s never heard someone admit it before.

We walk into the hall, but just before the final bedroom, I turn and face him. “I have a wonderful family and it’s taught me a lot. Mostly about loyalty, support, humor, camaraderie, and so far there haven’t been any divorces. Some of my cousins, and even my brother, have found wonderful people to love. I hope to find that someday. To know someone special is on my team, and mine alone. That he’s the type of man I’d love my children to call Daddy. Someone I laugh with, trust, and a myriad of other wonderful qualities. So don’t you worry, you’re safe. I wouldn’t want that from someone like you, so hard and cold you think to love and be loved is a trap. You are saved from my charms, Mr. Hamilton, because I’ve never met anyone I wanted to slap as much as you. And I hope you won’t hold that against me. I’m just being honest.”

His eyes are on fire, but he smirks, “Nothing personal, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t mean to say all of that, and the moment I felt the train going I wanted to jump off but couldn’t seem to stop myself.”

He chuckles, “It would have been a tragedy if you had been able to.”

I blink and adjust my purse, shrugging my shoulder to get it to a more comfortable place. But this bag is not what’s bothering me. My agitation is so great I run into the doorframe mid-sentence. “And this is the Master, oof! Ouch!”

Tanner’s fingers flash around my left arm. “Careful now.”