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“I don’t see why any of this is relevant.”
“Because you’re single,” she points out.
“Oh right, I’d forgotten.”
“And Adam could definitely remedy that situation.”
I laugh again. Apparently Daisy didn’t read the email carefully enough or listen to my story outside. Her gears must have already been cranking underneath all that shiny hair of hers.
“Why did you invite him here anyway?” I ask, turning the table. “How do you know him?”
“Lucas invited him. He’s renting the house across the street. Apparently he’s only been in town for a few weeks.”
I stop sucking the wine from the top of my glass and whip around.
“Excuse me, did you just say he’s renting a house?”
She shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “Yeah. It sounded like he just needed something temporary while he got settled.”
So he might be in the market for a house.
Which means he might need a realtor.
He might need me.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to see a man about a house.”
“What? No! Daisy, you’re supposed to date him, not work for him.”
I stopped listening to her a while ago and I’m already halfway to the back door. Lori’s Five Ss are running through my head. Smile. Suck up. Sell, sell, sell. Right. Easier said than done with a man like Adam. Fortunately, I have the foresight to snatch a cold beer from the ice bucket on the back porch just before I make my way back to the group on the stairs.
Smile, I remind myself.
I flash my pearly whites, and I’m confident my dimple is adorably visible. He assesses me as I approach. I try to stretch my smile even wider, and then his green eyes narrow and he frowns. FROWNS. Who frowns at people these days? You’re supposed to hide your emotions behind a mask of polite indifference—that’s what my mother always taught me.
“Here you go, Adam. A fresh beer for your, uh…koozie.”
My hand is outstretched, the beer is there dripping with condensation, and he doesn’t take it. He leaves me standing like that for a solid ten seconds, and everyone in the group is stunned into silence. It seems I’m pretty good at ruining the flow of conversation tonight.
“I just started on this one,” he replies, holding up his still-full beer.
Lucas chimes in, “I’ll take it, Maddie.”
I snatch it out of my brother’s reach. “You should stay sober, Lucas. What if there’s a medical emergency?”
“What, is Mouse coming over later?” Adam quips.
Everybody laughs.
I resist the urge to sear him with my gaze and I think he can tell, because he defuses the situation with a small smile.
“Thank you for the beer.” He takes the bottle from my hand, careful to keep our fingers from touching, and plops it down on the railing behind him. “I’ll put it right here and when I’m done with this one, I’ll drink it.”
I grin. “Sounds good. So, Adam, you’re new to town?”
He glances toward Lucas and then back to me, clearly confused by my shift in attitude. “Moved here about a month ago.”
“He’s renting the house across—”
I cut Lucas off before he can continue, my attention laser-focused on Adam. “Where did you move from?”
“Chicago.”
He seems to be uncomfortable with my line of questioning, so I try to ease up and act a bit more natural. “Ahhh, Chicago. So you’re into hot dogs, deep dishes, large reflective beans, that sort of thing? I’ve always wanted to visit.”
Daisy laughs. “Bullshit, you hate the cold. I tried to get you to go two years ago and you said ‘over my dead body’.”
If we were sitting down at dinner, I’d kick her in the shin under the table. Since we’re all hovering in an awkward circle, I have no choice but to smile and wave away her old, outdated information.
“Oh Daisy. I loooove cold weather now, especially in Chicago.”
Adam nods. “Yeah, I’m not a fan myself. That was part of the reason why I wanted to move down here.”
I scramble. “Oh, right, me too. I wouldn’t really call myself a fan of cold weather per se…”
I’m aware that the other members of our group are starting to drop like flies. Two of Lucas’ friends have already peeled off, and Lucas himself is inching away. I swear Adam keeps darting his gaze over my left shoulder, trying to find an escape. That can’t be right, though. I’m usually an excellent conversationalist.
“Did you own property back in Chicago? A house? Condo maybe?”
“Maddie, you’re being weird. Stop interrogating the guy,” Lucas says, clapping Adam on the shoulder. “C’mon man, you want to see the garage? There’s a ping pong table in there.”
Adam doesn’t even hesitate, fleeing with Lucas without so much as a backward glance in my direction.
I curse under my breath.
“What the hell was that?” Daisy asks, taking my glass and sniffing the wine suspiciously. “Has this gone bad? Did you just have some kind of mini stroke?”
