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"Sounds good to me," Jackson said, beaming.

Eric sighed and rolled his eyes. "Just give it a chance." We entered the massive space on the third floor, and I was impressed by the views of the district and the financial buildings beyond, and the exposed brick and the extremely high-end kitchen. Chase turned to me. "What do you think? Could you see yourself growing old with me here?"

For some reason, his words cut me. But I bravely plastered a smile on my face. "I like it, but it's not my style. But if you like it, that's all that matters."

Chase put his arm around me and turned to Jackson. "It's not for us. Sorry. Can we head over to the one on Beacon Hill?"

Jackson flashed us a brilliant smile. "I like to see two people on the same page. A lot of the couples I show places to want completely different things, and I always know it's going to end badly. But you two…"

Chase smiled at the broker and squeezed me against him protectively. "We're cute. We know. So…let's get out of here. Between the club the other night and this condo, I'm starting to feel old and out of place. Maybe a house with some history will do me good."

We left and drove to Charles Street, and I looked at the gorgeous homes with longing. The Beacon Hill neighborhood boasted classic Bostonian architecture, charming and grand. Pristine brick houses lined the streets, with classic shutters and window boxes filled with flowers. I could picture Chase living in this neighborhood with his beautiful wife and adorable children.

Chase let out a low whistle as we pulled up to the curb. He looked at a striking brick-faced home. "Now this is what I'm talking about. What do you think, Avery?"

I swallowed hard. "This is a gorgeous neighborhood." I will never live anywhere like this.

"I like it, too," Eric said. "I'd love to get you in a trendy loft, but even I can admit that this is more your style."

Jackson was waiting at the top of the granite steps. "Chase Layne, welcome home. You and Avery go ahead and take a walk through the house. I think you're going to love it, but I want you to see for yourselves. I'll be waiting for you out here. Come find me when you're done."

"I only have one question," Chase said. "How much is this going to cost me?"

Jackson beamed at him. "Eight-point-five million."

Chase opened his mouth, closed it, then smiled tightly. "I don't know if my ex is going to leave me with that much, but we'll go take a look." He reached out and grabbed my hand, leading me through the door. We entered the massive foyer, which had black and white floors, a stunning staircase and an enormous crystal chandelier. "This is a little formal, don't you think?"

I nodded. "But if you lived here, you'd make it homey. There would be sneakers and football pads everywhere. And beer. Much less stiff."

"I can picture the sneakers." His eyes sparkled at the inner vision. "And the beer." He kept his hand clamped over mine as we went through the rest of the house. Chase seemed enamored by the architectural details of the home.

"Look at these," he said, examining the light fixtures in one of the halls. "I can't tell if these are original or not, but they match the house so well." He turned to me. "Do you like this kind of stuff? Or do you just think I'm crazy?"

"I do like this kind of stuff," I said. "But you're awfully excited about the light fixtures." He grinned at me, and I couldn't help but grin back. I hadn't imagined that the big, sexy quarterback was an architecture nerd.

"When I bought the house in Wellesley, it was for convenience. It was an easy drive to the stadium." He shrugged. "I mean, I liked it, but it wasn't a big deal. And then Jessica decorated it, and I didn't like it as much anymore." He examined some floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases before turning to me. "She posted some pictures of her and Pax on social media today. They were hanging all over each other."

"Oh… Chase, I'm sorry."

"She's probably pissed about our pics from the other night." He shook his head. "I'm fine with it. Their relationship was going to come out sooner or later."

"Are you worried about the team?" Eric had explained further why they'd hired me. Chase was worried about how his wife's transgressions were going to impact the Warriors.

"Everybody keeps texting me about how hot you are." He pulled out his phone and scrolled through it. "I haven't read all these new messages, but it looks like they're saying the same thing. That Pax is a douche."

"So, that's good," I offered. Except for the part where your wife's sleeping with your teammate and posting it all over social media. And the fact that you're going back to practice with him in a couple of days.

"Hiring you is working out better than I thought." His face reddened when he realized that there was a double meaning there. "Seems like we're making the best of a bad situation," he coughed.

"Good," I said, trying to soothe him. "I'll be so happy if I can actually help."

Chase coughed again, still red, and turned back to the bookcase. "I've always wanted a house like this. It would be a dream come true."

We went into the kitchen, and he inspected each item, finally stopping at the refrigerator. "This is the biggest refrigerator I've ever seen. I think this could be the house for me." He looked at me. "By the way, Avery, can you cook?"

I nodded. "Nothing too fancy, but I can make the basics. I did all the cooking in my house growing up." I decided not to mention why that was, or that for the last three years, my diet had consisted largely of Ramen noodles, fast-food cheeseburgers and crackers stolen from the Sizzling Ranch.

"Can you make lasagna?" he asked hopefully.

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