Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Diane and Kathy ooh and ahh. Adam crosses his arms and puts on his best scowl, annoyed with me for bypassing his question. I walk them around the entire exterior of the home and then we proceed inside. Adam is barely glancing around the place. His attention is on me, not the shimmering granite countertops the owners installed just last year.
“And did I mention the farm sink?” I ask, sweeping my hand across the appliance like Vanna White. “They’re very in demand right now.”
“Oh!” Diane squeals. “I’ve been wanting to put a farm sink in my kitchen for years. Look at all that space!”
Kathy agrees. Adam says nothing.
I smile over at him, trying to ease the tension. “Do you like farm sinks, Adam?”
He grunts and walks away.
“Now I see why it was important to invite us,” Diane says, metaphorically patting herself on the back. “He probably doesn’t even care about the kitchen sink, but any future wife of his will want this farm sink.”
“I’M SINGLE AND I DON’T CARE ABOUT FARM SINKS!” Adam shouts from the next room.
As if we’ve agreed on it beforehand, the three of us act as if we can’t hear him at all. I usher them through the door and we proceed without Adam.
In all, the showings aren’t half bad. While Adam is the absolute worst, moodiest client I’ve ever had to work with, Diane and Kathy are a pleasure. They listen to my short spiel about every property and ask questions I know the exact right answers to. I am definitely convincing them of the advantages of each property we tour, but unfortunately, they aren’t the ones ultimately purchasing a house through me. That would be Adam, the man who is taking a phone call out on the back patio as we walk through our fourth home of the afternoon. I’m disappointed; I saved the best for last.
“Wow. I’m SOLD,” Diane declares, waving her hand around the spacious kitchen. “This one is my absolute favorite.”
I smile—and since Adam isn’t the room—admit that it’s my favorite too. The property is located a few minutes north of downtown Hamilton and sits on two acres of land with a shallow creek that runs through the back yard. It’s a redone white farmhouse with a metal roof and a wraparound porch, and it has four bedrooms, three full bathrooms, and top-notch finishes throughout the house. The builders were meticulous about design details, and if I had even one penny to my name, I’d be putting in an offer on the house in a heartbeat. As it is, I probably won’t ever get the chance.
The house went up on the market two days ago and word on the street is that there are already a few buyers buzzing around, prepared to send in offers. I would hurry Adam along in the purchasing process if he seemed even halfway interested, but I don’t even think he’s bothered to look inside.
“Who is he talking to out there?” Kathy asks.
Diane and I shrug.
“Maybe I should have let him know you two were coming along.”
Diane levels me with a hard stare. “Don’t you let his little tantrum sway you. He doesn’t get to just stomp his foot and have his way. I’ve been easy on that man his whole life, and maybe it’s time to start pushing back a little.”
While I can agree with her tough-love stance, I’m not related to Adam. I’m his real estate agent—at least for right now—and it’s my job to ensure he’s getting the most out of the showing.
I let myself out onto the back patio just as he’s wrapping up his phone call.
“Work,” he explains with a curt nod, stuffing his phone back into the pocket of his scrubs before he tries to move past me.
“I invited them as a buffer,” I admit, hoping to end the tension between us. My words stop him in his tracks. “After last week, I was nervous to be around you…and I thought if they came along, you and I wouldn’t be in danger of picking up where we left off.”
His green gaze catches mine, and I see that amusement has taken up where anger has left off.
“We’re in other people’s homes, Madeleine,” he mocks. “Even I have some self-control.”
Like that’s stopped anyone before.
I mash my lips together and nod.
He steps closer and presses his hand to the small of my back. “C’mon, show me the house. I like what I’ve seen of the exterior.”
“You do?!”
“It’s my favorite so far.”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
I lead him back through the house while Diane and Kathy wait for us in the kitchen. We weave through the three bedrooms and the living room, and then I sweep my arm around the massive master bedroom.
“It’s great, isn’t it? The French doors open up right out onto the porch and there’s a ton of natural light.”