“It’s a relationship building thing, I guess.” I shrug. “I don’t know, Dad likes things done old-school. People are more likely to buy from friends, so we buy folks dinner, take them for drinks, and show them a good time.”
“But this guy from Florida, youwantto have dinner with him?”
I want to believe what I’m sensing is jealousy, but I’m pretty sure it’s the insane protectiveness Reed has always felt for me.
When I don’t answer right away, he continues. “What do you have in common with this guy? Maybe I’ll like him too. If I like him, maybe I’ll want to sell him the house. You know it’s the first thing I bought when I got back from overseas, right? She’s special. Got me through a ton of shit.”
“I know,” I whisper unintentionally before clearing my throat, “and I’ll make sure whoever buys it takes care of her.”
“You think the Florida guy is the one?”
“To buy the house? Maybe. He wants to see it first.”
“After you two go to dinner?” His voice tightens as he says, “Why do you like him?”
“Like is strong. I don’t really know him. We’ve only talked a couple of times,” I glance toward the view out of the back window that features the turquoise lake and rising white-capped mountains, “but Troy loves the scenery, Josie’s bear claws, and he loves a quiet day on the lake. He seems pretty normal.”
“Troy. So, he has a name. Also, he sounds pretty basic,” Reed says gruffly. “You sure he’s not hitting on you?”
“What?” I narrow my brows inward and shake my head. “No. Why does that sound like he’s hitting on me? He’s a man who likes to fish. A lot of men like to fish, and everyone loves Josie’s bear claws.”
Reed groans under his breath as he stands from the chair and walks toward the coffee maker in the kitchen three feet away. “I don’t want to sell him the house. Tell him not to come.”
“What? If you don’t want to sell, that’s fine by me, I’ve got plenty of other clients, but if you’re selling, you can’t be picky about buyers. This guy is nice, he’s a cash buyer, and he’s motivated. The first offer is always the best. You should at least let him look.”
Reed drags in a deep breath and lets it out slowly before taking a long sip of coffee. “Whatever happened to you wanting to be a photographer?”
I laugh. “Umm… dreams don’t pay the bills.”
“You’re twenty-two years old. If you can’t dream now, when will you?”
“Can you imagine my father if I told him I was leaving the brokerage to pursue photography?” My brows are narrowed so hard my head starts to hurt. “Besides, no one wants some random girl’s pictures of horses.” I glance toward the photo of the wild mustang standing alone in the sun-bleached grassland that I took last year. The horse is mid-turn, his muscles coiled beneath a dark brown coat as his mane whips sideways in the wind. It was my favorite shot of the whole trip. “Except you. You’re my one and only buyer.”
“Not a single regret,” Reed says, grabbing a box of cookies down from the top shelf. “I don’t get it. If you don’t like this realtor thing, why do it? Live your life, kitten. You only get one.”
“Yeah.” I grin, clit twitching at the mere sound of his deep voice calling me kitten again. “Then who would be here to sell your houseboat to a forty-five-year-old Floridian having a mid-life crisis?”
“He’s forty-five?Jesus, what’s he creeping on you for?”
I shake my head. “Now you’re the age police? Or are you jealous that there’s a man your age out there who’s still trying to date and have an actual life?”
“Okay,” Reed groans, leaning against the back counter with a cup of coffee in his hand. I have no idea how he’s lived up here as long as he has. This space is way too small for him. He looks like a giant. “If I wanted a twenty-year-old girlfriend, I could find one, but I’m not a fucking pervert.”
“Well,” I sigh and clear my throat, “I’m not twenty. I’m twenty-two, and considering he’s not even asked me out yet, I don’t think he’s a pervert, though I do think that he’d be a great buyer for your houseboat. Just think about it. The whole deal could be finished by next week. You’d have cash in your pocket,and you’d be ready to start your new adventure.” I wrinkle my brows, realizing I don’t know what his plan is. “Whatisyour new adventure?”
“Well,” he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, “I’ve got this month-long motorcycle trip planned across the west coast. After that, I’m going to move into the cabin I’ve been building periodically for the last couple decades.”
I try to ignore the part about the motorcycle trip, though for some reason it’s settling like concrete in my stomach.
“You’re still building that cabin?”
“Yup. Way too damn big, but it’s finished. You’ll have to come find a good spot to hang that picture of the mustang you took.”
“I mean, I think it would look good front and center over the fireplace.” I smile, still biting back questions about the motorcycle trip. “I assume you have a fireplace.”
“Oh yeah. Kind of a necessity up here.” He scrubs his big hand down over his beard and squares his shoulders like he’s trying to seduce me.
It’s working, though I’m also insanely jealous.
