What was it?
Two glasses later,I’m tipsy and warm and I’m so caught up in thinking about Gabe, that I’veprobably been through a hundred real estate websites looking for him. Now thatI have another date with Lee, it almost feels like this is my my last chance tofind Gabe again before I’m stuck committing to another guy.
Then it hits me.
Barr.
His last name wasBarr.
I type it in andwhat I’ve been looking for is suddenly right here, the first search result,easily available after all. Why did it take me so long?
I go to his websiteand see his handsome face on the screen. I smile, remembering his dark beardand sharp jaw and handsome eyes. He really is the whole package.
I look around onthe website, but it only lists the business phone number, and not Gabe’spersonal number. I’m not sure I’d have the guts to text him anyway.
Then I find hissocial media profiles and go to Facebook. His company has a lot of five starreviews, which I’d say is obvious. Who wouldn’t give a guy that gorgeous the highestpossible rating?
I scroll throughand find his newest post. Maybe I’m drunk, but maybe he’s reaching out to me.
Hada great time at the Phoenix Small Business Convention. If we met, and didn’texchange contact info, please message me through here. Would love to get totalk to you again.
Does that mean whatI think it means?
I hover over thelikebutton, knowing that if I click it,it’ll say Alexa Sharp has liked this post, and he’ll see my profile and he’llrecognize me. That’s all I’d have to do. I don’t even have to comment if Idon’t want to. I’ve finally found this mysterious and amazing guy. I finallyhave him right here online and I’m too scared to do anything.
Instead, I decideto play the most pathetic game ever. Social media tag.
I open up myFacebook account for the bakery and type up my own post.
I recently went to a businessconvention in Arizona, and I had a blast! It was great meeting other businessowners—
I stop and readover what I’ve typed so far. No, that’s not good enough. I need to be bold.
I mean not as boldas just messaging Gabe like an adult, but alittlebit bolder.
I type:If we met at the convention, come by SweetsBakery and get a cupcake and coffee on me!
And then I add aheart emoji and I post it. I know Livi will see it eventually and call me outon my obvious attempt to lure that sexy man I’ve been “getting over” to myshop, but I don’t care.
It probably won’twork. And he’ll probably never see it.
But if he does,well, it’ll be worth it.
Chapter 16
I’m trying to keepmy distance from Britta Calgon, the twenty-three year old homebuyer I’ve beendriving all over town, but she’s not having any of it. She keeps breeching thatunspoken bubble of personal space that two strangers usually keep between eachother. She touches my arm every chance she gets, and she follows me around likea puppy, even though she’s the one who should be taking the lead here. She’sthe one who wants to buy the house.
We’re currentlyviewing a six bedroom two story McMansion on the east side of town that comeswith a hefty price tag of just over four hundred thousand dollars. She’salready looked at least a dozen houses with me—always requesting just me as herreal estate agent—and she hasn’t made up her mind yet.
“Daddy said Ishould stick to around three-fifty,” she says, giving me a coy smile as sheventures into the house’s dining room. “But I think he’ll go up higher if Iwant.”
It must be nice, Ithink. Having a rich dad who buys you an entire house to celebrate graduatingwith a bachelor’s degree in English. I’ve had to work for everything I own, andalthough I have money saved up to buy a house of my own, I’m still living in anapartment. Call me crazy, and I probably am, but I just don’t want to buy ahouse as a single man. I’ve always pictured house-buying as a couples activity.I’d walk hand in hand with the woman I’m going to marry, looking at prospectivehomes. She’d want to pick out color schemes and I’d be planning the backyardpatio design. Until I have all of that, I don’t want to move anywhere bigger orbuy anything for myself. It’d just be a waste of all that space.
“This house mightbe a little too big for you,” I tell Britta, which is my polite way of sayingwe shouldn’t waste our time looking at a house she can’t afford. I know shethinks her dad will pay more than his budget of $350,000, but I know for a factthat he won’t. He’s made that very clear in his emails to me that his daughtermust stick to his budget.
Britta shrugs andventures into the kitchen, which is massive and made of white marble withbrushed nickel fixtures. “Well, it won’t be just me forever. I want a family.”She runs her fingers down the marble countertops and turns to face me.
“Don’t you want afamily?”
