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I stomp my foot. “No! Dammit. I was trying to secure him as my next client.”
“By acting as if you have half a brain?”
“I don’t know! Usually I don’t have a problem talking to clients. Adam makes me nervous.”
“Because he’s so hot?”
“Because he looks at me like I’m the scum between his toes!”
“Yeah…I did notice that. Did you see his eyes though? They’re green—super cute with his brown hair.”
“You aren’t helping.”
“Oh right, sorry.”
I scoot closer to her so I can see into the garage. Lucas and Adam are laughing as they set up the ping pong table, and Adam looks much more comfortable now that I’m no longer in his presence. Still, I need to convince him to be my client. “Do you think I should go in there and try to talk to him some more? Maybe grab him another beer?”
Daisy points to where the first beer I brought sits on the railing, lonely and forgotten. “I think you should take a break there, champ.”
I suddenly feel like crying. Actual fat tears are seconds away from falling down my cheeks. “I really need a new client, Daisy.”
“Do you want me to buy something? I can get a condo downtown, how’s that?”
I laugh and a half-sob spills out with it. “You can’t swoop in and fix all my problems. Helen put me on probation today.”
“What?! You’re the best realtor she has. It’s not just about who can sell the most houses.”
“I appreciate your support, but that’s exactly what my job is.”
“Yeah, well everyone else who works there looks like a weird clone. My mom actually saw Sandra at the hair salon last week asking for ‘the Lori’. How weird is that?!”
Usually that little snippet of gossip would have made me smile. Not tonight.
“I think I’m going to head home.”
She’s concerned. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. Stay here. Have fun with your guests.”
She wraps me in a hug and I don’t pull away. I’m not a hugger, but then again, neither is Daisy. “If I can, I’ll put in a good word for you with Adam.”
I cringe. “Don’t bother. I’ll find another client somewhere else. And hey, I’m showing Mr. Boggs some houses next week. Maybe he’ll actually buy something.”
“Hey! Maybe he will.”
That’s when I know Daisy really does pity me, because we both know Mr. Boggs isn’t going to buy a damn thing.CHAPTER FIVEADAMI’m in Hamilton, Texas, for my family. My brother and his wife live here with my two nieces. My mom moved down here a few years ago, and when shit hit the fan in Chicago, it made sense that I would pack up and join them. I had other options: Los Angeles, New York, Hawaii—they need veterinarians in tropical paradises too. My family won out though, and I moved to the Lone Star state. I’ve been here almost a month now, and I regret my choice every day. It’s Saturday night. Yesterday, I was at that housewarming party for my neighbors, but now I’m grocery shopping, because that’s the kind of sad turn my life has taken. Back in Chicago, my friends are at the opening of a five-star restaurant, sipping sake—I know because they accidentally included me on the group text about the event. I had to remind them, for the tenth time, that I moved to Texas. They booed and kicked me out of the group.
But I’m not bitter.
I’m here for family.
I weave through the frozen food section and remind myself again, I’m not bitter.
I could have plans if I wanted them, but I don’t. I’m not in the dating game at the moment. I’m riding the bench, happily. There were a few women who showed interest last night at the party, and my sad, cold heart felt nothing for them. Well, that’s not all true. I did feel something for Madeleine, but I think that had more to do with annoyance than anything else. She has an uncanny way of grating on my nerves, and the fact that she just keeps popping up is getting ridiculous. I wonder if it’s a small town thing; I’m not used to it. I could go a year in Chicago without bumping into any of my friends unintentionally. By comparison, in the last few days, I’ve had the displeasure of crossing paths with Madeleine three times.
I laugh out loud.
Make that four times.
There she is standing in the medicine aisle of the grocery store, wearing a pair of short daisy dukes and a white tank top. She has on brown leather flip-flops, and even from my spot at the end of the aisle, I can see that she’s painted each of her toenails a different color.
Who is this woman?
And why am I not pushing my cart away at this very moment?
She reaches forward and inspects a box of Band-Aids, and the movement gives me an opportunity to check out her insanely sexy legs…and the matching skinned knees she is undoubtedly here to treat. A gift from Mouse, I’m sure.
