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I simply brush her thick, soft hair behind her shoulder.
“No, I was pretty young when we moved here. Kane and Keegan have the strongest accents. Mine comes and goes—if I’m angry, especially. Sometimes, I turn it up at the pub just for fun.”
I smile and watch her walk to the windows that look out at the ocean. She does that in every house we see. Stands by the windows or on a balcony, staring out at the water like she’s drawn to it.
“Do you live on the waterfront?” I ask, wanting to know more about her.
“No.” That’s it. No explanation. And before I can ask, she turns to me and props her hands on her hips. “Okay, Hunter, this is it. The very last house for sale on this island that has a water view, is move-in ready, and fits most of what you asked for.”
“We’ve seen a lot this past week,” I agree with a nod. But it’s not enough, because this means that I can’t use it as an excuse to see her anymore.
“I’m going to be blunt.”
“By all means.”
“Are you actually going to buy something? Or are you a lookie-loo just wasting my time?”
“A lookie-loo?”
“You know…” She sighs and rubs her fingers on her forehead in either frustration or fatigue. Either way, I don’t like it. And the thought of her stress being because of me makes me even less happy about it. “Someone who wants to see everything but has no interest in actually buying. Because that’s just a waste of my time—and yours. Both of our time is valuable.”
“I’m not a lookie-loo.” I shove my hands into my pockets so I don’t reach out for her, hug her to me, and try to calm the nerves I see humming just beneath the surface. I keep my distance. Because although she’s been nothing but nice since I got here, we haven’t been flirting the way we were a couple of days ago.
And it’s damn frustrating.
“I knew the second we walked into that house on Sunday, the one I showed you on my phone the day before, that it was the one I want.”
“Then, why—?”
“I wanted to keep seeing you,” I continue, interrupting her. “You won’t let me take you out for dinner, so I kept looking at houses with you. I just wanted to be with you.”
Her mouth opens as if she wants to say something, but she closes it again.
“I’m not in the habit of being interested enough in someone to make this kind of effort, if we’re being completely honest. Not in a very long time, anyway.”
She frowns. “You’ve been looking at houses just to hang out with me?”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “When you put it like that, it sounds a little desperate. Don’t call the press with that info, okay?”
She takes a deep breath, lets it out, and then chuckles. “Well, I guess I’ll get the paperwork started on the other place. Do you know how much you want to offer?”
“What’s the price of it again?”
She tells me, and I nod, thinking it over. “Let’s add fifty thousand to the asking price and seal the deal. If I can take ownership in the next couple of weeks, that would be even better.”
She blinks, pulls her phone out of her purse, and makes some notes. “I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Meyers.”
I tip my head to the side, watching her. “Hunter. My name is Hunter.”
“Of course. Shall we go, then? I’ll get the papers ready for you to sign this afternoon, and I’ll start making some calls.”
I don’t know where the sudden cold shoulder is coming from, but I don’t like it. “What’s wrong?”
“What? Oh, nothing. I just want to get this all wrapped up for you.”
“No, something’s wrong. You just went cold on me.”
She shakes her head and tries to look innocent.
It doesn’t work.
“Maeve.”
“You should have just told me on Sunday that you wanted m—the house. Your offer likely would have been accepted by now.”
“I told you, I wanted to see you.”
“You’re playing a game.” Her voice is harder now. Jesus, are those tears in her eyes? “I don’t have time for games. I’m a busy woman with responsibilities, and while it’s flattering that you wanted to see me, it’s just…not fair.”
“Not fair?”
“No. Not fair. Anyway, I’ll get paperwork drawn up for your signature and put the offer in. I’ll have it ready for you in a couple of hours.”
“Maeve,” I say after she starts stalking to the front door, her heels clicking on the hardwood. “Wait.”
“Like I said, I’m busy.”
“Damn it, Maeve O’Callaghan, wait just a goddamn minute.” I catch up to her and tug on her arm, mortified that there are tears in her eyes. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t call me honey.” She swipes angrily at the tears and shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
