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I outlined my standard system for showing a house to Kate, and she agreed to try it. The crew reset with a fair amount of grumbling. This time, the tour began with me opening the front door to let Wilson inside the beautiful, light-filled foyer.
All my focus was on him. He was my most important client ever; he deserved it.
I played off his reactions and asked him questions, letting him discover the house on his terms. It amazed me how many of the items off Kate’s seven-page list I recalled and worked into our conversation.
In short, I fucking nailed it.
By the time we stepped outside onto the back patio, Wilson’s hand at the small of my back, I was flying. It felt better than realizing the new dress I bought on sale had hidden pockets in the skirt.
I led him from the circular firepit to the built-in grill and outdoor kitchen. Thanks to the setting sun, we were awash in delicate golden light that made the highlights in Wilson’s hair glow like polished Brazilian cherry hardwood.
I smiled up at him, and in my mind, a soundtrack of triumphant music swelled. This was the moment I would ask him “the” question. Success dangled within reach.
“So, is this your Vacation Dream home?”
“It’s lovely, but no. A bit ornate for my taste and too small. I need a few more rooms or a guest house. I have a lot of family.” His mild expression was at odds with the devastation his words caused. He’d popped my euphoric bubble.
“Bigger. Okay, got it.” Both reality and realty could suck sometimes.
This place met almost every requirement he had. And it was spectacular.
Panic. I had to sell Wilson a house. Period.
I considered not only the other two properties on the schedule for the TV show but everything on the market in Elmer. Distracted, I stumbled over my tongue as I mumbled the short wrap-up commentary, reading off a cue card a crew person, who looked as tired as I felt, held for me.
A cool breeze whistled down the river valley and up the bluff. The hair on my arms stood on end. As soon as Kate yelled cut, I wrapped my arms around myself, trying not to shiver.
What if, after all this effort and time, I got a thanks, but no thanks from Wilson? He wouldn’t be the first real estate client to get my hopes up and then walk away from Elmer and never look back.
“You did great.” Wilson threw an arm over my shoulders. His warmth soaked through the thin denim dress, chasing away the chill in the air.
“But you hate the house.”
“I don’t hate it, but it’s not for me.”
“Not for you,” I echoed his words, at a loss. It had gone so well.
“It will look great on TV. You will too.” The appreciation in his voice almost coaxed a smile from me. “You didn’t think I would say yes to the first place you showed me, did you?”
I shrugged.
“You’re going to have to work for that commission.” He squeezed me—the kind of affectionate one-armed hug my brother had given me a hundred times—but with Wilson’s arm around me, it felt anything but brotherly.
“Sure. Right.” Time to head home and hit the computer. Extend the search area, look for fresh listings, and find his dream home.
In silence, we walked back through the house; the crew was busy taking down lights and restoring everything to its pristine glory. I didn’t reluctantly shrug out of his hold until we were in the driveway by my car. I felt like we were brothers in arms, having survived today’s ordeal together. We deserved a merit badge or something like a secret handshake to remember this day by.
“Good night. And thanks for the pep talk.” Hopefully, enough stage makeup remained to mute my newest blush.
“Don’t mention it. We all need a kick in the ass occasionally.” He winked and started down the driveway toward his car. And I took a moment to admire his rearview.
Leaning a hand on my SUV, I dropped my chin to my chest. I had to stop thinking about Wilson like a piece of hot man meat. He was a client, and Mr. Unattainable. Pulling one foot out of the red shoes from hell, I wiggled my cramped toes. I wasn’t sure if keeping them was a bonus of the TV gig or not. I chuckled because if I didn’t, I’d cry, and reached for the car door.
“Can I buy you a beer?”
His unexpected question threw me off balance in more ways than one. I wobbled on one high heel, and he grabbed my arms to keep me from wiping out. We ended up plastered to my car, our bodies wedged against the vehicle, me tottering on the one stupid shoe, my bare foot wrapped around his calf.
Of course my day couldn’t end with any of my dignity intact.
