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“There are three bedrooms down here,” said Zoey. “And two full baths. You have the only bedroom on the main floor, Sally. Unless you mean to rent out the office?”
Well, that was a little nosy of her. But I kept the smile on my face, like any good southerner. “I don’t. We don’t need to be too crammed in. I’m tempted to keep that room with all the mirrors down here as an exercise studio. There was a flood of people interested. Most of them couldn’t afford my rent but I guess they thought begging might get them somewhere. I’ve invited four people over today and will have to say no to one of them.”
Zoey nodded knowingly at me, her curiosity apparently satisfied. “The university keeps the market hot.”
“We like the big one,” said Antonio, walking back out into the main room. “The little wood room for steam is nice and the doors to the outside. Very good.”
“Tonio likes a cigar, in the evenings,” said Kate walking out of one of the bathrooms. “And I smoke pot, outside of course.”
“Thank you for being upfront,” I said. A pot smoker too—just laying all her laundry out for me to see. But the straightforwardness was winning me over. “We will be using ahousekeeping service. I’m not any good at managing the cleaning.”
“Amen,” said Kate.
“She must know how to handle my equipment,” Antonio said, his eyebrows bunching together.
There was a knock on the front door. “There’s another renter,” I said. “I’ll be back in a moment. Then I want to see that pool up close.”
I jogged up the carpeted steps, glancing at my watch. The afternoon was flying by. I opened the door and caught my breath.
A tall, slender man stood in front of me, hands in the pockets of his suit pants—which was tailored to fit him perfectly. His thick brown hair was just long enough to wave and curl on the ends. His looks were a bit Superman, but more svelte and fine-boned. Dark blue eyes stared back at me, and his mouth curled up at the corners.
“Are you Sally? I’m Peter.”
CHAPTER TEN
The gorgeous man smiled at me. I pulled myself together. “Hi, yes, I’m Sally, come in. My real estate agent is giving a tour now and she’s down on the lower level with the other potential renters. It’s nice to meet you, Peter.”
“Likewise, Sally.”
Why was I blushing? I dragged my eyes away from his to watch another car pull into the circular drive. “Oh, there’s another person arriving. I’ll wait here and say hello.”
He took a deep breath and I felt his eyes running over me. Peter Capelli was not what I’d been expecting. He was an adjunct professor at the university, starting a short-term teaching contract. I’d imagined someone very academic, perhaps a little frumpy, not an Apollo in a designer suit. “I’ll go take a look around,” he said and stepped by me, his scent minty and a little citrus.
I exhaled, watching a little red Toyota Yaris hatchback park badly. A young woman stepped out, waved at me, then tossed her hair to one side. How had I ended up with so many beautiful people as potential renters? She had that Kardashian Armenian look. Her clothing was cute, stylishand well put together. After Kate’s natural face, this girl’s makeup seemed overdone and flawless, like she was about to step onto a red carpet.
“Hey,” she called, her accent California teenager. “I’m Layla. Am I late? I super want a chance at a room here.”
“Hi, I’m Sally. Come on in and see the place.” I waited until she’d gotten her purse, locked her car, and walked over to me. “I invited four potential renters over today, so I only have to say no to one person. Well, one of the renters is a couple, actually. I think they’re in, mostly because the guy is a chef. They’re real upfront about everything, including that they’re swingers.”
“Swingers?” She stared at me, her mouth open.
“Yeah. They’re not monogamous. I told them I don’t like drama, especially between housemates, and they said they’re low-key about it all. Anyway, I wanted to tell you right away because I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
She kept staring at me. I swallowed—apparently, she needed more explanation. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Peter stood close enough to be listening. “So, Layla, it’s important that you feel safe and comfortable where you’re living. I don’t want you to move in here if dealing with them is going to be difficult.”
“I have a boyfriend,” she said, blinking at me.
“Right. Well, now you know a little bit about them. Come in and meet them and see the house. Your bedroom would be on the lower level, with the other two renters. There are two full bathrooms down there. I’ll be upstairs.” I’d communicated all that to her already, but talking gave her a chance to settle down from her shock. “Just got here myself and am about to go in the backyard and see that pool up close for the first time. I love a pool party. It looks so bare out there without chairs and tables and stuff.”
She blinked a couple times then nodded at me. “Okay, I’ll head inside.”
Another car pulled in, this time a Honda CRV, so I stayed by the door. A tall, black-haired young man stepped out, wearing basketball clothing. He walked toward me, his expression unreadable. I thought he was Asian and probably White—and definitely another very attractive person.
“Hi, I’m Sally. Are you Dillan Lee?”
“Hi. Yes.”
“Come on in and see the house. The other potential renters I invited are inside. I’m headed downstairs.”
