Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Molly
“Oh my god, babe! This would be the perfect spot for my reading room!” my client gushes as she paws her partner’s beefy arm.
I glance around the tiny windowless room, barely making out the color of the walls in the dim light of the overhead fixture. “Um...absolutely!” I agree. “Very cozy.”
Coco always says that when you’re not working with an ideal listing, you need to help your clients imagine themselves in the space, offering as many possibilities for rooms as you can think of until you see the lightbulb switch on behind their eyes. Selling homes is as much about watching and listening as it is about talking, numbers, and neighborhoods.
“What kind of books do you read?” I ask Destiny, my tall, willowy client clinging to her partner Gabriel’s arm. Getting to know your clients and taking an interest in their lives is another top priority, according to my boss.
“Oh, she doesn’t read books. Says they’re too boring,” Gabriel answers, grinning down at Destiny and stroking her back. The two of them are handsy as hell. I swear I almost walked in on them screwing in the ensuite bathroom at a property last week.
Before I can ask the obvious question, Destiny clarifies, “I read tarot cards. Have you ever had a reading?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I order them to calm their shit. “Oh. Um, no, I don’t think I have.” In fact, I know I haven’t, and for good reason.
“Omigosh, you have to let me do a reading for you!”
“Yeah, you have to,” Gabriel echoes with equal enthusiasm. “Destiny is amazing .”
“Sounds...fascinating,” I lie, trying to suppress the urge to excuse myself so I can scream into a throw pillow on the couch in the tiny den.
It’s nothing against Destiny. She’s lovely and has been a dream client so far. I’ve just had enough experience with shady scammers of the occult to last a lifetime. My mother is a huge fan.
But since I can’t run screaming in the other direction, I paste on a smile and hope I’m convincing when I continue, “We should wait until we get you a house, though, right?”
Thankfully, it works.
“Totally,” Gabriel answers for them both, and I hurriedly lead them down the hall to the primary bedroom, hoping like hell they’re not going to declare it the perfect spot to summon the dead.
By the time we’re finished touring the home, Destiny has approved its general aura, and the couple decides to grab some pizza and think about it. I take that as my cue to check my messages and emails.
The first thing I see when I pull out my phone is a text from Bobby. Crap.
Bobby: Please call me as soon as you get this.
I’ve been avoiding thinking about him since yesterday at the rink, and he’s leaving for a road trip with the team tomorrow, so I’d been counting on having a little break from him to get my head back on straight. I’m still embarrassed I let myself get carried away and kiss him. The last thing I need is to hear his voice and let my lady parts start doing the thinking again.
Me: Hey. I’m at work.
Technically true.
Me: Is it about a property? Email me the listing and I can take a look.
I’m keeping this all business in case he’s texting me about his offer of a date again. He wouldn’t, would he? I suppose pro athletes don’t often get turned down, though. Oh god, he doesn’t think I’m playing hard to get, does he? See? This is what happens when I decide to dip my toe back into the dating pool! I start to obsess and overthink everything. He’s obviously texting about a property.
Right?
Shit.
I drop the phone onto the passenger seat of my Kia—which has been purring like a sated kitten since its tune-up, by the way—assuming I’m in the clear when Bobby doesn’t text back. Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, I tilt my head to look at my partial reflection in the rearview mirror.
“Get. A. Fucking. Grip, Sparks.”
I jump in my seat when my phone rings as if I’ve just been zapped by a rogue wave of static shock. A glance at the screen shows Bobby’s name—because of course it does.
Maybe I could have used that tarot reading after all to warn me of this.
Closing my eyes, I bring the phone to my ear and pretend I don’t know who’s calling.
“Hello? Molly Sparks speaking.”
The gruff baritone of my name on Bobby’s lips immediately flips my belly upside down. “Molly, it’s Bobby.”
A ridiculously forced lighthearted laugh spills from my lips. “Oh, Bobby. Hi.” I sound completely deranged! “I didn’t know it was you,” I lie. Like he’s going to believe I’ve suddenly switched to carrying around a mid-twentieth-century rotary phone wherever I go. I’m acting like a twelve-year-old girl with her first crush on the high school quarterback.
But instead of calling me out, he continues in a serious, very un-Bobby-like tone, “Don’t freak out, okay?”
And just like that, every iota of embarrassment, attraction, and self-flagellation flees my mind, leaving nothing but thick, oppressive dread. “What happened?
My fingers tap impatiently on the steering wheel as I wait for the light to turn green fifteen minutes later. I can’t believe I let Bobby talk me into not calling Matthew myself!
All I know at this point is that Matty is not at home where he’s supposed to be, and that Bobby has eyes on him. Why my kid decided it was a better idea to call a hockey player instead of one of his parents to help him is beyond me. But I forced myself to push past the twin pangs of hurt and worry to give Matty what he deemed most helpful to him in the moment.
Bobby.
Who knew there were so many kids in need of therapy that the waitlist is two months long for an appointment? I found that out the day after Matty agreed to go to counseling. I called every place within thirty miles looking for anyone accepting new patients. The waitlist at one place was six months! How is that supposed to be helpful to a kid in crisis? I can only hope to do my best while we wait for Matty’s turn, and right now it seems Bobby freaking Rhodes might be my best bet.
My tires squeal when I shoot forward as soon as the light turns green. I’m near home now, where I know the roads like the back of my hand, so I take the shortcut behind the half-deserted strip mall and pull into the parking lot of the little convenience store slash hot dog stand down the road from our house.
All the breath whooshes from my lungs when I spot Matty’s familiar mop of brown and copper hair through a window. He’s sitting at one of the tiny tables in the corner with his back to me, Bobby seated across from him and wearing a furrowed brow. Neither of them sees me as I unbuckle and head for the glass door of the shop, intent on getting to my kid.
I hurry inside and weave through the tightly nested aisles of Corn Nuts and ramen packets until I hear Bobby’s voice and halt my steps just out of view.
“I’d bet my Gordie Howe bobblehead that this Raiden kid is being a jerk because he’s insecure about himself.”
Matty groans. “That’s what adults always say. Bullies bully to prevent being targeted themselves.”
It’s pretty much word-for-word what I’ve told him before. Clearly, it hasn’t proven to be a helpful bit of advice. I just knew there was something more to this Raiden thing!
“And you don’t think that’s true?” Bobby asks.
I venture forward another step and can just make out both their profiles now through the space between two boxes of animal crackers. Neither one appears to notice me in my super-secret stake-out spot.
“I dunno. I just know he’s a jerk.”
“Hey, I’m not saying you need to be friends with the kid. Not everybody is meant to be friends and sit around singing ‘Kumbaya’ like in the movies.”
“What the heck is ‘Kumbaya?’” Matty asks, nose wrinkling.
“Uh, just some old people shi—stuff. Forget about it. What I’m saying is it’s good that you’re looking out for kids he’s bullying, but don’t let yourself become a bully in the process. Best to try to avoid him altogether.”
I bring a hand up to stifle a tiny gasp. Pride warms my chest, and I’m not sure if it’s from knowing that my kid is defending others or finding out Bobby Rhodes can dish out some really excellent advice.
“I still want to send that pic.”
Huh?
“But you’re not gonna sink to his level like that, are you?”
Matty sighs. “No. I’m gonna show my mom the stuff Raiden’s been posting and let her talk to the school.”
I stifle a growl and continue eavesdropping.
“Good call.”
“Although...” Uh oh, I recognize that tone. “Seems a shame to have wasted my time making Raiden look ridiculous, though, right?”
“All right. Hand it over. But then we’re deleting it, deal?”
“Deal.” Matty quickly pulls his phone from his lap and scrolls for a few seconds before sliding it over the table to Bobby with a smug grin.
Bobby picks it up and squints at the screen. “Is that...Elmo?”
Matty chortles, chest puffed with pride. “Yeah. I took a picture of Raiden eating a burger at lunch and edited it to make it look like he’s kissing an Elmo doll instead.”
Bobby’s lip curls. “More like eating its face. Remind me to hire you next time I want to play a trick on my brothers.”
“I like computers.” Matty shrugs.
“It’s good to be creative—not to mention have a good sense of humor.” Bobby slides the phone back and folds his hands on the table. “But it’s easy for a joke to get out of hand. Believe me, I know. I recently got into some big trouble for taking a joke too far. It could have cost me my job.”
I didn’t know that.
“Seriously?” Matty asks, just as clueless as me.
“Seriously. But I’m being more careful now. Less impulsive and more mature about things.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Matty straightens in his chair.
Bobby stifles a laugh. “Good to hear. Now, delete that photo.” He waits for Matty to do as he’s told before continuing, “Your mom is going to be here any minute and she’s probably going to be all worried and want to love on you a bit before she lectures you about breaking rules. You’ve got to let her, all right? Moms worry. It’s their job. They’re also usually right about things, so make sure you listen, yeah?”
I bite back a smile. Bobby is really good at this stuff. I got a glimpse of it the other day, but this is next-level mentoring. He’s made more progress in two chats than Blake or I have in the last three months!
“Okay. I will.” Matty pauses and clears his throat. “Bobby, um, can you keep the part about what Raiden said to me the other day just between us?”
I huff out a frustrated breath through my nostrils. I am going to make sure this Raiden kid’s bullying days are over if it’s the last thing I do.
“You don’t want your mom to worry,” Bobby states instead of questions.
“Yeah.”
Oh, god. I love my kid so much.
They’re both silent for a long moment until Bobby replies, “I’ll keep it between us if you promise to tell me or your parents the second Raiden says or does anything else, okay? And if you promise to keep your cool and do the exercises we talked about to control your temper. Got it?”
“Got it. Thanks for coming, Bobby. It’s nice to have a dude that’s not my dad to talk to, you know?”
My eyes suddenly fill with tears, but I shove them back, along with all my other regrets that serve no constructive purpose.
“A guy’s got to have his boys, right?” Bobby extends his fist and Matty bumps it with his much smaller one.
They both push back their chairs, and I realize I’m about to get busted, so I hurry back through the aisles and sneak out the door before they turn the corner and see me. As soon as I’m outside, I turn back around and push through the doors again, entering the shabby fluorescent-illuminated shop to the confused expression of the cashier. I ignore him and wander toward the aisles.
“Mom!” Matty calls, and I pretend to be caught off guard.
“Matthew!” I rush his way and pull him into a hug. “Are you okay?” I sift my fingers through his hair and scan him from head to toe. He looks exactly the same as he did when he boarded the bus this morning, except there’s an orange stain on his T-shirt. Since it matches the one on his lips, I use my remedial detective skills to conclude Bobby bought him a Fanta, his favorite.
“Yeah. I’m good. I also know I’m probably in trouble.” He has the good grace to look sheepish.
“Why did you come down here?” It’s one of the things my eavesdropping didn’t answer.
“Ramona was fussing over me and asking me questions and I was afraid I was going to lose my temper. So, I lied and said I was going to Tyler’s. I just needed a minute to figure some things out, so I came down here.” His eyes drop to his sneakered feet. “I know Bobby called you.”
“Thank goodness he did. I would have been worried sick if I came home and there was no sign of you. Rules are there to keep you safe.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Bobby emerges from an aisle and steps closer. Now that I have more than an obstructed view, I can’t help but take him in. He’s clearly been running his fingers through his hair, leaving it a tousled and very sexy mess. Pair that with the light dusting of scruff on his chin and the form-fitting athletic shirt showcasing his pecs in glorious detail and I find myself a bit breathless.
“All right,” I mutter to my son. “We’ll talk more about this at home. Go hop in the car. I need to talk to Mr. Rhodes for a minute.”
“He says we can call him Bobby.”
“Mr. Rhodes is my dad,” Bobby interjects. “If you met him, you’d understand.”
I decide to leave that one for later and give Matty a gentle nudge. “Okay. Scoot.” As soon as the doors close behind him, I turn back to Bobby and take a deep breath to steady myself. I barely even notice the stale hot dog scent filling the air. “I don’t really know what to say. Thank you for. ..calling me.” I don’t want to let on that I eavesdropped, or I’d certainly thank him for a whole lot more than a phone call.
“No problem. He’s a good kid. And he’s got a decent head on his shoulders. I’ll let him tell you what was going on today.”
I nod, hoping to god he’s right.
“So, uh, I’m headed out of town for the next five days so I’ll be out of your hair.” Bobby rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I figured I should probably let some of your other clients get their fair share of time with you.” His sheepish expression mirrors my son’s so closely I want to laugh.
“Well, if I’m being honest, most of them aren’t quite as fun as you.”
“Oh yeah?” The dimples hit me with a one-two punch.
“Yeah.” My responding smile is impossible to suppress. He’s just so...tempting.
Bobby narrows his eyes and cocks his head to the side. “ Interesting. ” When he starts stroking his chin between a thumb and forefinger, I roll my eyes. I also start backing away while I’m still ahead.
“Thanks again. I’ll talk to you soon, Bobby.” I turn to the doors, throwing a wave over my shoulder.
“Is that a promise, Sparkle?”
Of course, I don’t respond, but I can hear his laugh all the way to my car and my son.