Chapter 2
Chapter Two
LEXI
“Lake Haven?” I furrow my brow as I read the instructions on the screen. There must be some mistake.
My boss, Alison — who I love dearly and is like a second mom to me — sent me some weird ass email from her sick bed at some ungodly hour last night.
Clearly she’s hallucinating, because the last time I checked, we didn’t trail our asses two hours east of LA to inspect properties for clients.
It’s not our turf, so this is either one of three things.
One: Alison overdoing it on her cough medicine — highly likely, considering I sent her home yesterday after disinfecting the entire office with a whole can of anti-bacterial spray.
Two: Alison has finally lost her marbles.
Three: Alison may very likely have a VIP client who she can’t say no to.
Really, it could be any of the three, or all of them combined.
One thing I know about my boss is that she’s a workaholic, and I’m about to test that theory. I pick up the receiver, press 1, and the phone begins to dial.
She picks up after two rings.
Two!
“Alison Archer, that had better not be you answering after only two rings,” I warn. “I’m sure you were sent home yesterday by yours truly, and yet you’re sending emails out willy-nilly at all hours of the night. This was a test and I’m sorry to say, you failed miserably.”
Cough. Splutter. Wheeze. “I still need to talk to you,” Alison manages after a stealthy bout of sneezing, sounding like she’s on death's door.
I hold the phone away from my ear. “Please tell me you went to the doctor.” I facepalm myself. “If you haven’t, I’m calling Tristan.”
“I did!” she protests. “I was told only bed rest would help. He wouldn’t give me any good drugs to make this go away faster.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m sorry to say, you’re also lucid dreaming, because I checked my stars this morning, and in no way did it indicate that we now do business in Lake Haven. Unless you’ve opened up a new office I wasn’t aware of.”
“Do you know how bossy you are?” Alison huffs.
“Taught by the best,” I sing.
“It wasn’t a lucid dream, or my hallucinating, before you ask. I have a client who begged me to check out a lake house for her this weekend.”
“And they don’t have agents in Lake Haven?”
It’s a pretty little place surrounded by trees, moss and outdoorsy things like squirrels. And, you guessed it, a huge lake. I haven’t been there in years, but I’ve heard it’s the Hamptons of California.
“You know what a certain A-list celebrity is like.” She blows her nose while still talking and I wince.
This call needs to end. Pronto. “Monica is very particular, and since I found her favorite home in Beverly Hills, she’s attached to me.
I can’t help it if I’m the only one she trusts. I have to be there.”
Monica Chase is a very popular soap opera actress, and she just got her first big movie role.
“Puh-lease,” I scoff. “Unless you make a miraculous recovery in the next twenty-four hours, that’s not going to happen. Plus, we don’t need your germs spreading around the office, or anywhere else for that matter. You’re lucky none of us got sick.”
“You drink that green congealed gunge every day, your immune system will be fine.”
I choose to ignore that jibe, however much it may be true. “I’ll deal with Monica. I have my license for emergencies like this. Holding her hand and taking her through the house will be a breeze. She’ll be fine.”
“You’ll drive all the way out to Lake Haven?”
“Of course. It’s only two hours, I’m quite capable of leaving Nancy in charge.
If the other agents have something they can’t deal with themselves, then I’ll be available on the phone.
” It’s highly likely. There are four other agents at our firm, and while they’re not entirely needy all the time, they do have a habit of requiring to be talked off the ledge from time to time.
Hence, PA/therapist is what the plaque reads on my door.
It was a gift from Mason; Tristan Lucas’s PA.
I’m always happy to wave a crystal around and cleanse their aura with some sage, or even pull out a quick oracle card if the situation calls for it.
“You’re a lifesaver, Lex.” More coughing. “I’ll make it up to you. In fact, why not stay the weekend? I rented a little cabin for me and Tristan, but we clearly won’t be needing that now.”
I wasn’t planning on making an entire weekend of it, but why not?
I’m single, ridiculously so. And it isn’t entirely because I want to be.
I’ve tried online dating, speed dating, and everything in between, but it’s freaking hard.
A one-night hookup is not something I’m looking for.
I want the real deal. After so many dating disasters, I’m starting to think there is no such thing as my Prince Charming.
Normally, I’d decline and rush back home to…
what exactly? Aside from feeding my cat, I haven’t got much of a life at all outside work.
Tending to my indoor plants is a highlight, as well as rearranging my romance books on my beloved bookshelf in order of trope, spice level and reader satisfaction.
That, however, is very satisfying and my most enjoyable pastime.
Frankly, I’ve thrown myself into work, and it’s what I do.
I love it. I have absolutely no complaints.
I’m content with who I am, and that’s taken some time to even admit out loud.
There’s no denying I’ve had issues in the past with my self-confidence after my ex boyfriend cheated.
Finding your ex in bed with one of your friends will do that to you I guess.
I used to think it was because I’m a plus-sized girl, and I was teased relentlessly in school.
I thought that somehow because I’m larger around the hips, have a butt and big boobs, meant I wasn’t good enough to keep a man like Rick.
He’s a very affluent journalist here in LA, and very well loved.
That is until the story leaked, and not by me.
The last thing I wanted was the entire universe to find out about Rick’s indiscretion.
It was embarrassing enough. Of course, he was the most hated meme going around a year ago, but that all got swept under the carpet as fast as it came out.
People are so quick to forget. If only I had been able to do the same.
He was a jerk, but I got pretty tired of people stopping me in the street to tell me what I already knew. I’m all for solidarity and all of that, but I wanted to just crawl under the nearest rock and stay there.
That was then.
I’ve spent the most part of a year getting myself in a better place mentally.
Being cheated on is still a fear, especially because Rick was such a smooth talker.
I haven’t had sex in so long, I’m afraid I’ll probably end up a lonely old cat lady.
At least cats can be loyal, sort of. Mr. Snuggles would probably leap into the arms of the first stranger he came across at the mere sight of dried-up pilchard.
He acts like he’s God’s gift to mankind, and though he thinks he’s a prized Persian, the truth is he’s a ginger tabby cat from the Bronx.
At least, that’s where I rescued him from.
“So are you staying the weekend?” Alison's voice interrupts my thoughts down the line.
“I was going to rearrange my spice rack this weekend, but that sounds way more fun,” I laugh, only half joking.
“Lexi, honey, you’re gorgeous. I know you don’t need me to tell you that, but staying home rearranging your pantry won’t help you run into the man of your dreams,” she says. “And that’s all you read about in those smutty books of yours.”
“They’re not smut,” I sigh. Alison is no stranger to my ramblings about men in LA.
She was one of my solidarity sisters until Tristan came along.
Now they’re in love bubble central. “They’re romance books.
Maybe I’m holding out for the guy who sweeps me off my feet.
Okay, he may not come riding up on a white horse, or have a coat of armor, but after some of the jerks I’ve dated lately, I think my time would be better spent rearranging tarragon from tyme. ”
Alison sighs. “I think you need a mini break. You’ve been working your butt off for the better part of this year. Make a weekend of it.”
“I’ll have to consult with Mr. Snuggles about the staying over part,” I say. “Although he doesn’t mind being in the car. It sends him to sleep.”
“So I can tell Monica that we’re still on? The viewing will only be open this weekend, and homes in Lake Haven don’t come up very often.”
“No. You won’t tell Monica any such thing. I’ll be telling her. You’re going to lie back down in bed, turn your laptop off, switch your phone on silent and get some rest.”
I’m well aware I sound like a nag, but I know this woman well.
“You’re awfully cute when you’re bossy.” She attempts to laugh, but it ends up in a coughing fit.
“Please tell me Tristan is there?” In all seriousness, I am worried about her.
“He went to heat up some chicken noodle soup.”
“So sweet,” I muse.
“I know. He even made it from scratch.”
“Now you’re just being a tease. Go rest, woman. And I’ll be checking your sent items to make sure you’re not working from home.”
“I wish I could clone you,” she sighs. “We’d get so much more work done.”
I chuckle to myself. “I haven’t ruled that out yet, but you probably couldn’t afford another one of me. I’m not cheap, and neither is Alicia.”
“Who’s Alicia?”
“My clone… never mind. Just get some rest. Text me the cabin address, and I’ll keep you updated when I can.”
“You’re the best, Lexi. Thank you.”
“I’m not sure I’m the best, but I’m the only one with no life.”
“You know, my friend has a son?—”
“Goodbye, Alison.”