“Do you want to be on Bourbon?” I asked. “You saw the only property available right now that’s suitable for what you want to do, but you didn’t like it.”
“I don’t want to be on Bourbon. That’s not it either.”
I studied him closely, the frustration clearly etched into the faint lines around his eyes, even though he was trying hard to be patient with me. Fussy clients were the norm in commercial real estate. They planned to open a business, and location was everything. Sometimes they were just picky because they had totally unrealistic expectations. But some clients were fussy because they were passionate about their vision, and I was beginning to realize that Miles was the second type.
“Why did you want me to be your agent?” I asked. I clearly wasn’t showing him the properties he wanted—hadn’t even tried to the first time. But he’d been persistent about it.
“It was your face in that meeting. With your boss?” He added the last part like I wouldn’t remember the only meeting we’d both been in. “Anyway, that’s why.”
“I’m not sure I get it. What about my face?”
Miles hesitated. “I don’t know. Everyone else at that table was acting like she’d presented me with the three greatest properties ever to become available in New Orleans, and you looked...polite.”
“Um, is that bad? Aren’t I supposed to look polite?”
He flashed me a tiny smile. “I really don’t know how to explain without sounding like every cliché of a celebrity jackass you’ve ever heard. Wait,” he said, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “I’m assuming you know who I am, but it’s not like Brenda said anything in that meeting.”
A short laugh escaped me. “Are you about to say, ‘Do you know who I am?’ Because...” The pink grew darker. “Oh, man, you were.” This time it made me laugh even harder.
“I didn’t mean it likethat.”
I tried a stuck-up rock star voice. “Do you know who I am?” Then I lost it again.
“Was that supposed to be me?” He was smiling a little more now. “That’s not how I sound.”
“You’re right.” I squelched another giggle. “You didn’t say the actual words. Go ahead, say them so I can judge for myself.”
He heaved a sigh. “We’re not going to get anywhere until I do, are we?”
I only grinned at him.
“Do you know who I am?”
His voice was quiet, not rock star at all, and it wasn’t funny anymore.
I cocked my head and studied him. “Yes, Miles Crowe, former winner ofStarstruck. I know who you are.”
“And some other stuff,” he mumbled.
“Other stuff?”
“BesidesStarstruck.Never mind. I’m only bringing up the famous thing because people tend to...fawn.”
“Fawn?” I repeated like an idiot parrot. But I couldn’t help it. This whole conversation was surprising me.
“Yeah, it means to like...pander?” He winced. “Which means to—”
“I know what fawn and pander mean.”
“Right. Well, so that happens. A lot. And you didn’t do either of those things when I came in, which is kind of refreshing. But more importantly, they were all being super-salesy about properties that were a bad fit, and you sat there looking...”
“Polite,” I finished.
“Less than enthusiastic about me or the properties. As if you didn’t think they were a great fit, and I wondered if you had other ideas. But—” and he broke off again.
“But what?”
He waved his hand. “Nothing.”
