Chapter 4 #2
Ethan studies me for a second, probably trying to decide if I’m being too soft about the whole thing. “You’re too nice for your own good sometimes.”
“Or maybe you’re just quick to write people off.”
He snorts. “If you get burned enough times, you learn to doubt first, trust later.”
“Yeah, well,” I start, “not everyone is as paranoid as you.”
Scottie’s parents’ real estate firm, James Realty, sits at the end of Main Street, tucked between the florist and the bakery. The “For Sale” signs stacked in the window are faded from the sun, and the front door jingles when I push it open.
Inside smells faintly of coffee and printer ink, and even though it’s the middle of the day on a Monday, the place looks deserted.
“Just a sec!” a voice calls from somewhere in the back. There’s a clatter of something hitting the floor, followed by a muffled curse.
I bite back a smile, shaking my head. It seems Scottie’s entrances come with sound effects.
When she finally appears, she’s clutching a manila folder, her phone, and what looks like a half-eaten clementine.
Her hair—red, loose, and a little wild—shines under the fluorescent lights.
The sundress she’s wearing is a soft blue with tiny embroidered flowers scattered across it.
As she moves toward me, it clings to her curves, her full breasts bouncing over the top of the deep V with each step she takes. I clench my jaw and shift my gaze.
“Hi!” she says, slightly breathless. “Sorry, I dropped…basically everything.” She nods toward the back room. “You’re early.”
I glance at my watch. “I’m on time.”
“Right,” she says quickly, cheeks pinking. “Then I’m late. Mentally, anyway.”
She sets her things down on the desk, immediately knocking a pen holder sideways. Pens scatter across the floor.
“Wow, okay. I’m killing it today,” she mutters, crouching to collect the pens—offering a better view of her cleavage that I definitely shouldn’t be noticing. I quickly avert my eyes and kneel to help, but she flutters a hand at me.
“I’ve got it. You’re the client; no sense in making you clean up after me.”
Ignoring her protests, I reach for a few that rolled under the desk.
“I’m not going to sit and watch you scramble without at least helping. What kind of man do you think I am?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she holds out the pen holder so I can drop in the ones I’ve gathered.
Our fingers brush as I do, and my breath gets trapped in my throat.
She’s standing close enough to cloud me in her citrus scent—sweet with a bite—and I’d inhale deeper if I weren’t balling my fists to keep from doing so.
Her smile softens, and for a second, the space between us inflates—like we’re both remembering the bathroom incident. Whatever spell we’re under breaks when a car alarm goes off outside, jolting us apart.
Shaking my head, I step back, trying to figure out what the hell that was. I knew it would be awkward, given the circumstances, but also because I’ve never quite known how to act around Scottie.
She looks up at me, those bright blue eyes meeting mine, and all I can think about is the last time I saw her—red-faced, flustered, and babbling about my penis.
She’s cute when she’s embarrassed. She’s cute most of the time—beautiful, actually. And this isn’t some newfound realization. I can pinpoint the exact moment I stopped seeing Scottie as just my little sister’s best friend and started seeing her as…well, something else. An incredibly stunning woman.
A millisecond later, I slammed that door shut. It would’ve been a disaster to go there. And even though I know I made the right call, every now and then that memory pushes its way back in—usually when I see her, and those same feelings start to stir in my chest.
That’s why I keep my distance. You can’t want someone you never see. At least, that’s what I tell myself. But now that she’s the one helping me find a vacation home, avoiding her is about to get a hell of a lot harder.
I clear my throat, drag my focus back to the desk, and claim a seat—leaving at least a chair’s distance between us. “So. You said you found some listings?”
Her expression falters. “About that…”
That tone never means good news.
“There’s not much out there,” she admits, pulling up a tab on her laptop. “Actually, there’s just one property available right now.”
“Only one?”
She winces. “Yep. Uno. Singular. One. But the good news is they’re hosting an open house this Saturday and won’t be accepting offers until after.”
Crossing my arms, I shift in my seat. “Let me guess—everyone in the market is already circling it like vultures.”
“Pretty much,” she admits. “It’s a beautiful place. Lakefront, great view, big kitchen, and from the photos, it looks move-in ready. I think it’s worth seeing.”
“Well, show me some pictures before we go to the trouble of driving all the way over there.”
She angles the screen my way.
“Here we go.” She clicks through a few tabs, chewing her plump bottom lip in concentration. “Okay, so, it’s technically listed as a three-bedroom, but there’s a loft that could be a fourth. The living room has these massive windows overlooking the water.”
The first image pops up, and I can practically smell the lake through the screen.
The house is a pale gray with white trim, perched just above a narrow dock that juts into the water.
It looks peaceful, secluded. The kind of place you can actually breathe in.
I’m reminded again why Allison was so fond of the area, only confirming how perfect it’ll be for Lily.
“It’s got this cabin-meets-modern aesthetic,” she says, leaning close enough that a strand of her hair brushes my arm despite my attempt not to get too close.“Not too fancy, but not a fixer-upper either. I definitely think it’s your vibe.”
I steal a glance at her, my lips twitching upward. “And what exactly is my vibe?”
She shrugs, eyes still on the laptop, but there’s the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “You know. Like…earthy.” She laughs, and there’s a nervous tinge to it. “You’re like one of those outdoorsy, one-with-nature types.”
I’d argue, but she’s not exactly wrong. The way she says it—like she’s a little embarrassed to admit that that’s how she sees me—makes my chest bloom with warmth.
“Do you not like it?” she asks hesitantly. “Because I can expand the search outside city limits. I pulled some listings about five miles away in the next town.”
“No, I actually think it’s great. I know you said it’s the only home for sale, but I would still like it even if there were other options.”
She looks relieved. “Oh, good. Because I only found one other listing in the next town over, and it was trash.”
I bark out a laugh. “What about you?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Do you like it?”
Scottie sighs under her breath. “Me? Oh, gosh, what’s not to like? I’d take a shack by the lake, and this is by no means a shack. When I get back to Chicago, I’ll be lucky if I have a window that doesn’t look out into an alley.”
I’m not sure why, but I didn’t think she was going back. Elyse made it sound like she might be staying permanently. “You’re not planning to stay in Red Mountain? I just assumed…”
Her smile falters for half a second. “It’s temporary,” she says lightly, though there’s a shadow behind it.
“Anyway.” She clicks to the next picture—an open kitchen with rustic beams and polished countertops.
“I think we should absolutely see it in person. With the town restricting new construction and most people seeming more interested in keeping homes in the family than putting them on the market, it could be a while before something else becomes available.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, though I’m still hung up on the way she brushed off my question—and the way her eyes lost a bit of their shine, like her thoughts drifted somewhere she didn’t want me to follow.
She glances up, grinning. “That was easy. I don’t know why I was so worried.”
“I wasn’t worried at all. You’ve always been incredibly capable.”
Her cheeks redden as her eyes dart to the floor, as if she isn’t sure what to say. “Thank you,” she says finally, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’ll call the listing agent and make sure we’re good for Saturday. If we leave here by ten, we’ll get there around noon. Does that work?”
“Yeah,” I say, still a little off balance. “Ten it is.”
“Perfect,” she echoes, writing something on a sticky note.
When I turn to leave, she calls after me, her tone full of innocence. “Don’t forget, Ledger—be gentle. This will be my first time.”
I look over my shoulder just in time to catch the mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “I think you enjoy saying ridiculous things to see what my reaction will be,” I tell her.
“Maybe I do,” she fires back, giggling.
Her laughter follows me out the door, light and unguarded—and, for reasons I’d rather not unpack, it sticks with me all the way to my car.