Chapter 10 #2
“Thank you,” she whispers. “You didn’t have to say anything… but thank you.”
“I definitely did,” I tell her. “Isobel was way out of line. For all she knows, you could be my realtor and my girlfriend, and we’re buying this place together.”
Ivy’s eyes widen in surprise. “God, she’d probably choke if she thought we were dating and buying a house like this.”
“It could happen,” I mutter. “She has no right to assume.”
“I have nothing to prove to her,” Ivy says dismissively, brushing it off like the idea of us dating is completely ridiculous. “Come on. She’s probably wondering where we are.”
She walks ahead, leaving me to follow.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe the idea of us together is strange, but it doesn’t feel strange to me. It feels like it could be something good… something that matters.
It doesn’t take long to figure out this place isn’t right for me.
Sure, it’s stunning, with sleek tile floors, a floating staircase, a massive chef’s kitchen, and a view that’s straight out of a magazine, but it feels cold, much like my apartment in Phoenix.
Stylish, but soulless. I want something warmer this time. Something that feels like home.
While Ivy explores the private beach area, I’m standing on the raised deck with Isobel. She’s doing her best to sell the place, but my attention keeps drifting back to Ivy, who’s tossing stones into the water, carefree and beautiful in the sunlight.
“Do you have a property to sell, Wyatt?” Isobel asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah. A penthouse in Phoenix.”
“If you're looking for someone with experience handling high-end listings like this one, Harper Estates is a great choice. You’d be well looked after.”
“I’m not looking. I already have someone.”
She raises a brow. “Who’s handling the listing, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Ivy James Estates.”
She actually laughs. Not a chuckle, a full-on laugh, like I’ve just told her a joke. “Ivy?” she says, her tone dripping with disbelief. “You do realize she’s never managed a listing like that before?”
My jaw tightens. “I know.”
“Wyatt, I say this with respect, but you need someone who knows how to move a property like that. This isn’t a starter home we’re talking about. It doesn’t have to be me–”
“But you’d prefer it if it was,” I cut in.
She gives a practiced smile and places a hand on my arm. “Naturally. Look, Ivy’s a sweet girl. She did fine when she worked for me. But selling a penthouse takes more than charm. You need someone with experience, knowledge, reach.”
Anger bubbles under my skin. I take a step back, and her hand drops away.
“I think we’re done here,” I say, keeping my voice as steady as I can. I’m trying not to be rude, but I’m dangerously close to crossing that line.
“Wyatt–”
“No,” I cut in firmly. “We’re done.”
“Is everything okay?” Ivy asks, appearing at the top of the deck steps, glancing between the two of us.
“Everything’s fine,” I say, turning to her. “But we’re leaving.”
Without hesitation, I reach for her hand and slide my fingers through hers, not caring how it looks. I lead her back through the house, ignoring the sound of Isobel’s heels clicking behind us.
“Wyatt, wait, please–”
“I won’t be making an offer,” I say over my shoulder. “This place isn’t the right fit.”
Thankfully, she doesn’t follow us outside. I keep hold of Ivy’s hand until we reach the car. I open her door, and she looks up at me, her eyes searching mine as she slides into the seat.
I exhale as I shut the door and circle around the front of the car to the driver’s side. I already know she’s going to ask what just happened, and I’m going to have to tell her. I just don’t want to be the one to upset her.
It takes her until we’re almost back at her place to ask.
“What happened, Wyatt?”
I glance at her. “She was just trying to get me to go with her for the sale of my apartment.”
“What exactly did she say?”
I hesitate. “It’s not important. I told her I’m more than happy with my realtor.”
“Wyatt.” Her tone is firmer now. “What did she say?”
I let out a slow breath. “She said you don’t have experience with high-end listings. That I should work with someone more established, someone used to handling properties like mine.”
“Let me guess,” she says with a sigh. “Harper Estates?”
I nod.
She shakes her head slightly. “I figured as much. Look, if you want to go with someone more experienced, I understand. She’s not wrong. I haven’t handled anything like your place before.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” I say, flashing her a small grin.
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but I shouldn’t be using your place to practice. You probably only asked me because I’m your sister’s best friend–”
“Hey,” I cut in, my voice firm. “That’s not why I asked you. And you’re not just Ash’s friend. I’d like to think you and I are friends too.”
I pull the car onto her driveway and turn off the engine.
Shifting to face her, I wait until her eyes meet mine.
The flicker of doubt in her expression twists something in my chest. She looks deflated, and for a second, I wish I hadn’t brought her along.
At least then she wouldn’t have had to hear any of it.
“We are friends, right?” I ask, even though deep down I know I want more. She doesn’t see me like that, but friendship is better than nothing.
“Of course we are. But that’s not a good enough reason to ask me to be your realtor.”
“That’s not why I asked,” I say again, more firmly this time.
“Then why?”
“Because I’d rather work with someone I know and trust. Not someone like Isobel Harper, who’s so far up her own ass she can barely walk straight. I don’t want a realtor who’s going to be all over me just to land a listing.”
She laughs, and her whole expression softens. The tension in my chest eases just a little.
“You’re not worried I’ll be all over you then?” she teases.
I pretend to give it serious thought, rubbing my jaw like I’m weighing up my options. “I mean, if it’s part of your service package…” I say, flashing her a grin. “I guess I’ll suffer through it.”
She laughs and reaches over to swat my arm, but I catch the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. Damn, she’s cute when she does that.
“That is definitely not included in the service,” she says, raising her eyebrow lightheartedly.
I chuckle. “Shame.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible, Wyatt Brookes.”
I grin and shrug. “Maybe. But I’m still your favorite client, right?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny,” she says, grinning. “I’m a professional, remember?”
Our eyes lock, a teasing smile dancing on her lips.
“You are,” I say, quieter now.
She changes the mood with a question. “Aside from Isobel’s attitude, did you actually like the house?”
I shake my head. “Not really. It reminded me too much of my apartment. Slick, polished, but cold. I’m looking for somewhere that feels like home the second I walk in.”
She nods slowly. “Yeah, I thought the same.”
“Great minds,” I say, with a wink.
She smiles, then glances out the windshield. “I should probably head inside.”
But she doesn’t move. Not right away. And neither do I.
“I meant what I said, Ivy,” I tell her. “I trust you with the listing. Completely.”
Her eyes flick to mine, soft and unreadable. “Thanks, Wyatt. I’ll see you Friday.”
“Friday,” I echo with a nod.
She grabs the door handle, pausing just for a beat before getting out. I watch as she walks toward her porch, her jean shorts hugging her hips a little too well. Just as she reaches the top step, she turns and waves.
I lift my hand in return, tapping the edge of the steering wheel once she disappears inside.
I want to follow her.
Instead, I start the engine and pull away, because for now, that’s the only move I’ve got.