Page 32 of The Broker

NINE

Charlotte

After I’d paused my camera, I unlatched Noah’s front door and pulled it open just enough to block the woman’s entry to the house. She didn’t look like she was related to him, or like she was trying to sell something, either. She stood on the porch holding a paper plate loaded with cookies that was wrapped in pink cling film.

Was she a neighbor?

It was a little late to be welcoming him to neighborhood—he’d moved in more than two months ago.

I pressed out a polite smile. “May I help you?”

It was abundantly clear I wasn’t who she was expecting, and her face twisted into a frown. “Yes, hello.” She tried to see around me and into the house. “Is Noah here?”

“No, sorry. He’s not.”

“Oh.” This was not the answer she wanted to hear, and her gaze fell to the cookies she was holding, like she wasn’t sure what to do now.

“Did you want me to give those to him?” I offered.

She clutched the plate tighter, like she worried I was going to wrench it from her hands, and she tried to peer around me once again. “Is there a package in there for me?”

Um, what?

“This is my house,” she explained. “I mean, itwas, and—silly me, I forgot to update my shipping address.” Her smile was off, and her expression was sort of calculating, like maybe she hadn’t forgotten. “I ordered a mattress last week. You know, one of those ones that comes in a box? Anyway, I didn’t realize my mistake until I saw the delivery picture and it was this front porch.” She batted her eyelashes at me. “So, is it in there?”

When I’d arrived this afternoon, I’d come in through the garage and had noticed the large box sitting off to the side. I’d assumed it was his and hadn’t looked at the label.

“I think so,” I said. “Let me text him real quick.” I pulled my phone out and began to thumb out my message.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to bother him,” she said quickly. “I can come back later. Do you know when he’ll be home?”

This woman baked him cookies and drove over here to retrieve her new mattress, but now was totally willing to walk away empty handed? I finished sending my text and studied her closer, noticing her makeup, her nice clothes, and her jewelry. She was quite put-together for just picking up a package.

Unless she wants to pick up more than just her mattress.

I couldn’t blame her for being attracted to Noah, or her wanting to shoot her shot, but... would he be interested in her?

She was almost old enough to be my grandmother.

“No,” I said. “I don’t know when he’ll be home.”

This answer frustrated her, and her disapproving gaze washed over me. “I’m sorry, who are you? You look a little young to be his girlfriend.”

She was kind of rude, but I was unfazed. “I’m his housekeeper.”

The phone in my hand buzzed, and Noah’s name flashed across the screen. “Hello?”

“Hi,” he said. “I thought it would be faster if we talked.”

Since we typically did it via text, it was the first time I’d heard his voice in weeks, and I tried to ignore the thrill that burst through me.

He spoke fast, as if he were busy. “That box showed up last night and I stuck it in the garage. I let my real estate agent know about it this morning, but is Judy still there?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “Can you put me on speaker?”

“Sure, just a second.” I tapped the icon on my screen. “You’re on.”

“Hey, Judy,” he started. “I put your box in my garage.”

Like me, excitement seemed to rocket through her at hearing his voice, and she tugged at the hem of her shirt before smoothing it out. It was like she wanted to make sure she looked her best, even though this was a freaking phone call, and he couldn’t see her.

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