He shrugs and I continue while I still have the nerve.
“But since this is like, I dunno, the fifth or sixth time we’ve met, I figured I should let you know that Lori and I actually work at the same agency.”
He nods slowly, probably putting the pieces together, but I can’t assume anything. I need to make myself perfectly clear.
“And if you were looking to purchase a house here, I would love to represent you. I mean, Lori is great, but ughh, so tactless, am I right?”
I laugh then, but he doesn’t join me.
“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” He tilts his head, studying me. “Selling me a house?”
“Oh, umm…yeah.” I’m floundering. “Basically I just wanted you to know that I’d love to work with you.”
He tugs his hand through his hair and backs up. “Jesus, you people are relentless. At least she had a business card.”
Abort. ABORT.
“No! I just didn’t want to let the opportunity pass without—”
He laughs and backs up. “Well you definitely didn’t let the opportunity pass. Now your behavior at Lucas’ housewarming party makes way more sense. I thought you were bipolar there for a second, but now I realize you were just being nice to me because you want my business.”
Sort of…yes.
“No!” I lie. “Of course not. I’m not like that, I’m a nice person!”
“When it benefits you,” he adds, and I feel my cheeks burn.
It’s not true, not really.
I hold up my hands in defense. “Listen, let’s forget I ever said anything. Clearly you’re not looking for a real estate agent, and even if you were, it definitely wouldn’t be me.”
My self-deprecating humor completely deflects off him. His mouth is tugged into a sharp frown, and I just need to leave. There’s no way I’ll salvage the situation.
“Okay, well, I better get Mouse home. He needs his dinner.”
I did too before this conversation completely stole my appetite. He doesn’t offer anything more than a curt goodbye, and I’m left with a painful sensation in the pit of my stomach on the drive home. Mouse is hanging out the window, happy as can be, but it doesn’t cheer me up. I arrive back at my lonely apartment, ignore the melodramatic RENT OVERDUE sign taped to my front door, and flip on the light.
Mouse’s toys are strewn across the tacky brown carpet. My secondhand furniture is in desperate need of replacing, and sadly, the mess of dishes I left in the sink last night is still there, taunting me. I crack open the fridge, take in the pitiful fare, and slam the door closed again. There’s no denying it: my life is crumbling. I’m days away from caving and moving back in with my parents—either that or just leaping into the Rio Grande and letting it carry me down to Mexico.
Hola, me llamo loser.
I slide down to the floor and don’t even realize I’m crying until Mouse trots over and starts licking the tears from my cheeks. It’s the saddest, sweetest moment of my day, and I don’t fight his affection. I wrap my arms around his abundant fur and pull him closer.
He licks and licks, and I don’t even mind his puppy breath. It’s soothing, right up until I glance down and see the two kneepads sticking out of the top of my purse. They make me cry harder.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ADAM
I’m in a lousy mood the next morning and though I’d like to blame it on my packed schedule, deep down, I know that’s not what’s bothering me. I was too hard on Madeleine last night at the end of the training class. At the time, I was pissed, and maybe somewhat…embarrassed. I went out of my way to invite her to the training class and bring her a little peace-offering, and though I’m good at denying it, I’m attracted to her—yet every chance she gets, she reminds me that she doesn’t see me that way. To her, I’m a potential client, nothing more.
That should make me happy. After all, I’m not looking for any kind of relationship, strings attached or otherwise, but in the heat of the moment, when she drew the line in the sand, I couldn’t help but feel like it was a blow to my ego. Sure, I don’t want to date, but she doesn’t know that.
At the very least, she and I could have been friends, but now that seems out of the question too, considering how I acted last night. The hurt expression she wore as I berated her (for the second time) is going to be forever burned in my mind.
Maybe we just don’t mix.
But I refuse to believe that.
I couldn’t take my attention off her last night. She was working so diligently with Mouse, minding her own business in a corner of the gymnasium, and over the course of the hour, I caught myself watching her a dozen times. I’d tell myself to focus on another student and their dog, and yet my attention would wander right back to her.
She was good with Mouse, patient when he was learning and quick to reward him when he mastered a new trick. I saw a different side of her, one I wanted to get to know…up until she asked me if I was in the market for a real estate agent. That burst my bubble real quick.
“Dr. Foxe,” calls Derek, one of the vet assistants, from outside my office door. “Your next patient is ready for you in exam room two.”
I tell him I’ll be right there, but there’s no folder waiting for me outside the exam room. I knock on the door, assuming he left it inside on accident, but as soon as I see my mom perched in one of the chairs, I know I’ve been set up. Even now, I can hear my staff laughing out at reception.
She looks up at me, her short, gray bob accented by a pair of blue earrings that match her dress. On her lap is a stuffed animal bird, and even though I’m in the throes of a shitty mood, I can’t help but crack a little smile.
“Mom, to what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, closing the door behind me. “And did you actually make an appointment? I’ve been behind all morning.”
She holds up the bird. “As a matter of fact, I did. Birdie here has an ear infection.”
“Funny.”
She sighs and sets the stuffed bird back on her lap. “It’s the only way I can see you these days! You moved from Chicago a month ago and I’ve only seen you twice!”
“That’s more than you used to see me.”
She offers up a classic mom glare. “Well it’s not enough.”
“How are Samuel and the kids?”
“Good. They’re planning a barbecue this weekend and I want you to come.”
Barbecue I can get behind. Incessant nagging from every single one of my family members about my life, not so much.
“I’ll have to look at my schedule,” I say, unable to meet her eyes.
I might have lived halfway across the country from her for the last ten years, but she’s still my mom, and she can see right through me.
“Fortunately, your schedule is right up front at reception, and I already looked. You’re free Saturday afternoon.”
“They don’t have my social life penciled in up there,” I point out, though it probably would have been best to keep my mouth shut.
Her green gaze—the one that matches mine to a T—lights up. “So you’ve got social plans this Saturday?”