Page 99 of The Broker

“I didn’t ask you if it was okay for me to tag along. I can wait here for you.”

He stared at the steering wheel in front of him, and it looked like he was struggling to process. But he shook his head, pushed open his door, and began to get out. “It’s fine. C’mon.”

His tone was distracted, like he’d settled for the path of least resistance, and that made me feel even worse, but I’d done this to myself. I got out of his car and followed him up the path.

Noah’s mother must have been watching for him, because she opened the front door before we’d reached the porch steps. She looked immensely relieved at his arrival, but as her gaze shifted to me at his side, her expression changed to one of confusion.

Or maybe distrust.

He’d told me his parents were in their early seventies, but his mom didn’t look it. She had short, dark hair, great skin, and sharp eyes. I immediately got the sense those eyes didn’t miss much.

“This is Charlotte,” he said. “We were out when you called.” His mother backed out of the way as we came in. “Charlotte, this is my mom, Theresa.”

“Hi,” I said automatically, “it’s nice to—”

“Hello.” Her focus turned back to Noah, and it was as if I ceased to exist. “He fell in the shower.”

“The shower?” Noah’s concern was thick. “Is he okay?”

“He thinks so, but we can’t really tell until we get him up. I tried, but with my bad shoulder...”

He nodded and began to move down the hallway, with his mother following quickly. “Why was he in the shower at eight-thirty?”

“He wanted to take one after he finished mowing the yard.”

Noah pulled to a stop and turned to show her his frown. “Why the hell is he still mowing the yard? You need to pay someone to do that for you.”

She put a hand on her hip and looked annoyed. “I agree, but you know how your father is.”

I’d remained in the entryway, and he glanced back over his shoulder at me, delivering a quick look.Stay, it said.I’ll be back in a bit.

Which, of course I’d stay. I wasn’t about to be introduced to his dad while he was incapacitated and naked.

While they were gone, I stood awkwardly and struggled with what to do. It seemed rude to get on my phone, so I glanced around, curious about his parents’ place. It didn’t look like this was the house Noah had grown up in.

The entryway was open, there was a dining area to the right and the living room straight back, and a gallery wall of pictures hung over one of the sofas. My eye went instantly to the ones of Noah growing up.

I didn’t consider if it was rude. I let my feet carry me forward as my gaze traveled over the images of him and his family. It was mostly vacation pictures throughout the years, the family in front of the Washington Monument, the Grand Canyon, at Disney World.

There were a few where the kids were helping their dad with a tour. One of his older brothers’ weddings. Noah’s college graduation.

Damn, he’d always been hot. Like he’d skipped right over the awkward teenage years. I was envious.

When I finished looking at the pictures, I made the mistake of turning to my right and peered into the kitchen. I sucked in a breath and held it tightly in my lungs.

Used pans were stacked beside the sink. A dish towel that hung on the oven had brown stains from where hands had been dried on it repeatedly. The floor looked like it hadn’t been swept in a month.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

There was a kitchen table that had a collection of dirty plates, silverware, and wadded up paper napkins. It didn’t seem like his parents’ meal had been interrupted, since his father had gone to take a shower.

No, these plates had been abandoned here.

My mother would put up with almost anything. Her only absolute, unbreakable rule was when you were finished eating, you took your plate to the sink. I could not tolerate food and dirty dishes left sitting out, and before I knew it, I was stacking the plates.

They have so much to deal with. Might as well be useful.

I made quick work of loading the dishwasher, tossing the used napkins away, and wiping down the tabletop with a damp paper towel. And when that was done, I tackled the pans by the sink. If I hurried and got them done, I might have time to wipe down the kitchen counters and look for a broom.

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