21. Conor
Conor
It’s going… well.
Really well.
In fact, as far as open houses go, I’d consider this one to be a home run. Knocked right out of the park.
All afternoon, a steady stream of young families, professionals and a few older couples have moved through the house, ooh-ing and ahh-ing in every room. The sounds give me hope that this project won’t be a money pit after all, that I might actually have a chance of turning a profit on this thing.
Karla brought along her bigwig investor friends—a pair of elderly men with perma tans, very white teeth, and immaculate, matching three-piece suits who I’ve nicknamed Chaz n’ Chad—and even they look impressed.
But the best part is, I’ve arranged a silent auction at the end of the open house for Jess’s paintings and she has no idea.
When I asked her what she wanted to do about the paintings once the open house was over, she was all too quick to say that she’d give them away.
But, I can’t let that happen. Her paintings are worth more than that, and I can’t wait to see what they go for.
Jess has spent most of the afternoon in the backyard, pacing by the pool and smiling at people as they come through. Her smiles don’t fool me, though—her eyes are wide and wild, fear etched clearly in her velvet chocolate irises.
She seriously has no idea what an incredible job she’s done. No idea that I haven’t been able to focus on anything else all week now that I know how she tastes—warm and sweet—and how soft her full lips feel against mine.
I want to speak to her more than anything, but I’m currently being held hostage in the kitchen by a sweet couple in their late thirties—a plump, rosy-cheeked woman and a bespectacled, overly serious man. They’re chatting about wanting a house big enough for their six cats.
“We plan on adopting a seventh soon,” purrs the proud cat mom. She has an angry red mark on her cheek which looks remarkably like a cat scratch, but I decide it's safer not to ask.
“Congratulations?” I murmur, wishing the word hadn’t come out sounding like a question.
“Thank you.” Cat dad adjusts his glasses. “We’re very excited about this place. We will definitely be making an offer.”
I give him my best professional smile and handshake. “I’m so glad to hear that. We look forward to hearing from you.”
As the couple toddle off (and I can’t help but notice the woman plucking cat hairs from her sweater as she walks), Karla swoops in next to me.
She’s decked out in a navy suit and crimson stilettos.
Her crisp, white blouse has just one too many buttons undone, and her red hair is scraped back in a tight chignon.
Which makes her forehead look unnaturally rigid.
Although that could just be the botox, I guess.
She clutches two martini glasses, and extends one to me. “Here.”
“No, thanks.” I never drink on the job. Better to keep a sharp mind.
“You deserve one,” Karla objects, pressing the glass into my hand with so much force I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. “This is actually going well.”
I nod, and set the glass on the island behind me. “Yeah. Jess did amazing, didn’t she?”
I love my sister, and Mia does incredible staging work, but whatever magic Jess has woven in this place is just next level.
“Very nice, yes.” Karla’s tone becomes pinched and she lays a hand on my arm. She leans in to say something else, but I don’t hear a single word she says because I’m focused on the front door. Well, not so much the door as the person who’s just walked through it.
The man is about my age, his hair slicked back with enough gel to bathe in. He’s got mirrored sunglasses on, sports a gold signet ring on his pinky finger, and he’s wearing one of those really annoying trendy suits where the pants legs are a bit too short. Paired with suede loafers, no socks.
The two inches of bare, hairy ankle is not a good look.
But, that’s not what bothers me about this cityslicker. What bothers me is that I know him from somewhere… I can’t place him, but I have a bad feeling in my gut looking at him. Is he a realtor I’ve dealt with before?
The man whips off his shades and gazes around the room, an arrogant smirk on his face. He takes out his cellphone and starts snapping pictures. What the?
“Excuse me,” I tell Karla, and stride towards the front door.
“Conor Brady, of Brady Homes.” I extend my hand to the man. I’m hit by a wall of Axe body spray and I have to hold back a grimace. Who is this joker? “How can I help you? Are you a potential buyer?”
The man laughs derisively. “In Decatur? No.”
He clasps my hand in a shake and I’m gratified to see that his hands look small, soft and pale in my grip. I squeeze a touch too tight, just because I can. Then, I look him dead in the eye, daring him to show weakness.
I have no idea why my feathers are so ruffled right now. There’s just something about this guy.
“I’m looking for Jessica, actually. Jessica Shaw.” He’s positively smirking now as he peers around the crowded room.
I drop his hand like I’ve been burned, realization smacking me in the face.
It’s that douche canoe from the bar.
The one who made Jess cry.
Her ex’s best friend.
Suddenly, all my angry, territorial instincts make a little more sense. I paste on my biggest, falsest smile. “Oh, how do you know Jess?”
At the casual use of Jess’s name, the man seems to snap to attention. He looks at me properly for the first time, taking me in. I feel the air around us change, cooling ten degrees in a single heartbeat. “We go way back. You?”
I remember Jess saying that she lied to this guy, told him she was a house flipper. As of now, it isn’t a lie, but I make sure to embellish. Just a bit. “She designed this entire place. Incredible, isn’t it?”
Douche canoe’s jaw drops open. Too bad there’s no hair gel designed to keep a shocked expression firmly in place. “Wow.”
“I know. She’s amazing, the best in the city.” I’m really warming up now. “She’s in such high demand, she has a months-long waitlist. Come on, I’ll take you out back. She’ll be delighted to see an old friend, since you guys go way back and all.”
I can see that he wants to make an excuse to leave, but he doesn’t really have a choice at this point.
He’s backed himself into a corner. In fact, he looks downright ruffled.
Judging by the way his arrogant smirk is nowhere to be seen, he obviously stopped by the place simply to catch Jess in a lie. Humiliate her further.
What a little—
“How do you know Jess?” the man asks as he follows me across the room.
I give him an even bigger smile, and lower my voice conspiratorially. “After asking for her help for weeks, she finally agreed to do this job with me. But, I’m hoping it’ll lead to more. She’s in high demand in more ways than one, If you know what I mean.”
I do the whole wink-wink-nudge-nudge thing to really rub it in, and for a moment, I think I may have gone too far. Acting was never my strong suit.
But, an Oscar might be in my future yet, because somehow, the guy buys it. And judging by the way his eyebrows practically shoot off his face, it appears that he isn’t just here for Johnny. He clearly has some ulterior motives with his good buddy’s ex-girlfriend.
Classy dude.
I give him a faux-apologetic look. “Oh! Sorry! Did you guys used to be involved?”
He shakes himself off. “No, I, uh…”
I pat him on the shoulder, full of pity. “Hard luck, bro.”
By this time, we’re outside and Jess is just a few feet away, chatting with Luke and Pete. Which couldn’t have worked out better, judging by the way this cretin’s face darkens.
“Jess!” I call, striding forward.
She looks up, and a million emotions cross her face as she sees who’s trailing me.
“Someone’s here to surprise you.” I turn back to the man, and in the most ambivalently pleasant, sincere tone I can possibly manage, add, “forgive me, I’ve forgotten your name. Dick, was it?”
Jess splutters, almost spraying a mouthful of her drink all over poor Pete, who’s watching the scene unfold in bewilderment. Luke’s mouth drops open.
“I never gave you my name,” the man says crisply, his cheeks reddening.
“Mark, what are you doing here?” Jess asks. Her voice is calm but I notice the way she fists her hands in the hem of her little black dress (which she looks incredible in, by the way).
“Oh!” I slap Mark on the back. Harder than necessary? Yup. “My bad, Marky Mark.”
Dick suited him better, I think. But, maybe that’s just me.
Mark flinches and I almost— almost —feel bad for him. But then, I remember Jess crying and I don’t feel bad at all.
Meanwhile, Pete and Luke make hasty excuses and start backing away. I’ll have lots of questions to answer later, but for now, I don’t care about that. I look at Mark expectantly and he scrambles for something to say.
“You’ve done well,” he stutters, the arrogant expression I’m sure he’s perfected is gone without a trace. “It’s a nice place, Jess.”
Jess’s face is dark. “Thanks. Is that all you stopped by to say?”
“I—well—uh, can we, maybe, talk in private?” Mark shoots me a sideways glance and we both look at Jess.
She folds her arms across her chest. At that exact moment, a warm breeze circles us, lifting her hair off her shoulders. She looks like a poster for Bad Ass Women Not To Be Messed With.
And, I am here for it.
“Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of Conor.”
Mark scowls and glances between the two of us. “What—are you two some kind of a thing ?”
“I wish,” I say staunchly. “I’d be lucky to have a girl like Jess in my life. Anyone would be lucky. Don’t you think, Mark ?”
Mark goes a highly unhealthy shade of puce.
Jess, meanwhile, looks at me with the most meaningful expression I could ever imagine—gratitude.
Grateful that someone has finally taken her side, stood up for her.
But the crazy thing is, the last thing she needs to feel is grateful.
I’m telling the truth… anyone would be lucky to have Jess in their life.
And I realize, in that moment, that I want to be the lucky one. Badly.
I want Jess to look at me like this—I want to make her smile like this—every single day of my life. ‘Til we’re gray and old and have to wear diapers.
Okay, well, hopefully not the diapers part, but you get the picture.
For the first time, I’m highly, acutely aware that something has been missing in my life. Lately, I thought it was just a family, someone to settle down with. But, that wasn’t it. At least, not completely...
I was looking for Jess. She was missing in my life. And, with her by my side, I feel whole, complete.
Home.
“Mark, I think you’d better get going,” Jess says coldly, continuing to come into her own power and strength. I watch her, impressed and slightly mesmerized. “I’d tell you to send my best to Johnny, but it wouldn’t matter. I’m sure you’ll be reporting back to him the second you walk out the door.”
Mark coughs, but he at least has the good grace to look placated. Like a little boy being told off for saying a naughty word.
I barely notice any of this, though, because I’m looking at Jess. Looking at the woman who’s changed everything for me.
I’d call Aiden right now to tell him I want to be with his sister, but Jess might have something to say about that.
So, tonight, I’m going to tell Jess that I’m all in.
That I want to do this for real, whatever happens.
That I’ll fight for her, and never let her down like her moron of an ex did. That she’s special and worth it.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
Jess’s sweet voice cuts through my thoughts and, when I look up, she’s smiling at Mark, a devilish twinkle in her eye.
I want to kiss her more than ever.