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“My apologies. Traffic is awful.”
Dolores opens the door wider to allow me entrance. “You’re not coming from next door?”
“I had an appointment in Tribeca, something I had to handle.”
She walks into the heart of the home. “Hope everything’s okay.”
I shut the door and follow her. “Yes, it’s perfect.”
And I’m completely satisfied.
When she sits on the couch, I choose the seat across the limestone and brass coffee table, and she says, “Harrison, I’m going to be up front with you. I’ve dealt with playboys and hotshots who have tried to get this listing. That’s not what I’m looking for.”
I’m not liking the sound of this or the way she’s staring at me like I’m just another hotshot in New York City. My California pride is offended.
“I adore Natalie and Nick. Andrew Christiansen, who lives two doors down, manages my portfolio, and I’ve raised money for The Jacobs Garden, Juni’s passion project. Every last one of them has spoken highly of you,” she continues.
“That’s nice to hear.” I lean forward, resting my forearms on my legs and keeping my hands clasped together. “Is there a but coming?”
“But,” she starts, not a trace of a smile, much less one that says I got this listing. “That was your girlfriend, not a client. Natalie told me about trying to talk her friend into buying the house, the same one you’re dating. I would also assume she’s the same person who left makeup on the fold of your collar.”
Makeup?
Shit.
Because of the fun Tatum and I had, I didn’t have time to change clothes. I wore this suit not only last night but also this morning to the doctors and lounging at Tatum’s apartment.
I look down at the rug, tracing the lines of the design. I don’t like to lie. Some agents will say anything to get the listing and do anything to close a deal, even if it means tricking a client or an interested buyer. I won’t lower my morals to sell a property. “I’m dating her. That was actually our first date.” When she doesn’t say anything but sits back as if she’s ready to hear the story, I confess everything. “I was in charge of bringing her to a party that Natalie was throwing for her. It was a surprise party for her birthday. But then I got this chance, and she told me to take it. We detoured here before going to the party next door.”
We sit in a silent standoff for what feels like minutes. Rationally, I know it’s only seconds, but the heat is getting to me under the collar, tempting me to tug it to get more air.
Dolores’s features have a hard line to them, but they soften, and she says, “Thank you, Harrison, for confirming I can trust you.” She smiles, and I take a deep, relieved breath. “I’m giving you the listing because I know you’re not only trying to make a name for yourself in the city but you also come highly regarded by your friends. And I like Natalie. I also like to help others when I can, and I think this listing will give you a nice reference when you sell it over listing for seventeen million.” Oh thank God.
I was going eighteen, but seventeen gives me flexibility.
She adds, “The only condition is that I don’t want you to lie to me. If you can agree to those terms, you’ve got yourself a listing.”
Standing, I hold out my hand. “I won’t lie to you, Dolores. And I truly appreciate your trust in me. I do agree to your terms, and thank you. Very much. You won’t regret this, I promise.”
“I like hungry agents. They work harder than the established ones. Get me over this listing, Harrison, and I’ll introduce you to everyone in this city.” She stands and shakes my hand.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
When I reach the sidewalk and the door closes behind me, I fist pump and punch the air. “Yes. Yes. Fucking yes!” I turn around and jump out of the way of an older lady in her speeding electric chair. “Sorry.” That doesn’t temper my excitement.
I run up the stairs to tell Nick and Natalie, finding them on the back patio playing backgammon. “I got the listing,” I say, pulling out a chair next to Natalie.
“You did?” she asks, a big smile on her face. “Dolores can be tough, but I knew she’d love you.”
Reaching over, she rubs her fingers on my collar. “Is that makeup?”
“Apparently. I need fresh clothes. I can’t believe I had to meet her wearing this.”
“Why did you?” Nick asks, moving his pip. “You could have changed clothes first. Your stuff is upstairs.” His eyes peek up at his wife, and there’s a mischievous look in them. “Sorry, babe.”
She huffs. “This baby has scrambled my brain. I never used to lose, and now it’s all I do.” She’s still not showing, but there’s a fullness to her face that wasn’t there before. It looks good on her, and has me imagining those small changes on Tatum.
