Page 4 of Contingently Yours
I’m not proud of how desperate I sound, but like Mom always says, you can’t hide from the truth. Iamdesperate. I thought piloting for Lou Hanson’s island real estate agency here in Wilmington was a damn good gig to get when I got out of the Army. It was a reasonable drive from the house I had just bought in the North Carolina countryside for the life plans I was making, but as the bills piled in and I saw what the real estate agents earned off their commissions, piloting didn’t seem like the answer anymore.
I’ve only been a certified agent for about two years now. While I’ve made a nice dent in my debt and also managed to put some away for my sisters’ upcoming wedding, I’m still far from where I’d like to be financially at my age. I should just be grateful that Jolissa and Julia decided to have a double wedding. If they’d had two separate ceremonies and parties, I’d be feeling the squeeze even more. When I told Mom she wasn’t going tofoot the bill, I meant it, even if I didn’t know how I was going to accomplish taking care of it.
Blowing out a breath, I kill the engine of my truck and search my rear view again. I want to see the confident soldier who was a reliable warrant officer to his men staring back. I needthatguy today, especially if Lou trusted me enough to call me in for this potential deal.
Tires screech nearby. A black BMW whips into the parking lot. Whatever confidence I hoped to muster morphs into something else entirely as I squint at the rearview and spot the jackass who just double parked behind me. I know exactly who that jackass is.
“What the hell ishedoing here?” I mutter, watching Andrew Broadhouse bail out of his fancy car with an urgency he never practices. This can’t be good. “Shit!”
Wrenching my door open, I bound out of my truck, hating the way these khaki slacks are stuck to my sweaty ass from my leather seats. Yeah, that’ll look professional and impress a client. Glancing over at Andrew, a lump forms in my throat. He’s made more of an effort with his wardrobe than he normally does, wearing dress slacks and dress shoes today. That means he must have gotten wind of the deal. Granted, his sandy mess of hair looks like he couldn’t be bothered to comb it, but he never wears dress clothes to the office or viewings. Why would Lou’s lazy, spoiled nephew bother dressing professionally when he can be handed the best deals while wearing shorts and flip-flops like a frat boy?
His gaze meets mine, looking just as suspicious as I imagine I do right now. I’m not proud that I resorted to punching him in his stupid face a few months ago, but I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the feel of my knuckles connecting with his cheek when he showed up on the property I was just about to clinch with my clients. Inmy defense, he started it when he threw the property listing sign at me, and it hit me in the balls.
He freezes mid-stride behind his vehicle, and his eyes narrow at me like a gunfighter in a duel. Shit. He will not. Not again.
Something primitive ignites in my blood—a silent war cry in biological form. I narrow my gaze right back, taking a slow breath through my nostrils.
I am a professional. He isn’t. I’ve got this. I don’t care what kind of crap or fake charm he tries to pull today. Relative or not, Lou will see that I’m the most appropriate agent to broker this deal.
I keep telling myself that, even as I mirror each hurried step Andrew takes toward the doors of VeraLou Island Properties. By the time we’re ten feet away, however, professionalism is a distant memory. We’re both full-out sprinting. I despise the immaturity this guy brings out in me.
My hand reaches the door handle first. I cheer a silent victory until I realize that yanking it open gives Andrew the opportunity to step under the threshold first.
He’s about two inches taller than me, but I’m stronger. Pushing my feet against the pavement, I lunge forward in an attempt to cut him off. He mustn’t know how to walk in his stupid dress shoes, though, because he staggers to the side when my shoulder bumps his. The idiot won’t give up and continues to try to press forward at the same time as me. The result leaves us smooshed in the doorway, shoulder to shoulder, our legs snared in each other’s as we both try to advance.
“I was here first,” he grunts. “Wait your fucking turn.”
“Like hell you were.” I kick his shin in return after the cheap shot he just delivered with his elbow to my ribs.
“Ouch!” he yelps, completely overdramatized. “Are you going to assault me again because I got to the door faster than you?”
“What in Sam Hill is going on?” Lou’s voice interrupts us, booming across the reception area.
I’m too mortified to move or speak. That gives Andrew the advantage. He jerks out of our doorway sandwich and tries to make himself look dignified after staggering into the office. Smoothing out his dress shirt with one hand, he flicks a thumb over his shoulder at me.
“G.I. Joe here just tried to trample me. I warned you he’s violent.”
Vera’s head of wiry black hair peeks out of the conference room door behind Lou. I glimpse a man’s back sitting at the conference table and hear laughter.
The clients are already here? Crap. I don’t even have time to plead my case of why I’d be a good agent to show them properties.
“What was that noise?” Vera whispers.
Lou waves her off, signaling for her to go back into the conference room. “Nothing. Keep them busy. I’ll be back in a minute.” Snapping his fingers, he points to his office at the opposite end of the reception area. “You two, with me.”
Great. Now I’m going to be reprimanded because of his jerk nephew. Lou was gracious and understanding over ‘the incident’ a few months ago, but judging by how red he is in the face right now, something tells me there’s a limit to his graciousness. He’s not someone who sugarcoats things. It’s why I like working for him. You always know what you’re going to get. He’s brash and sometimes vulgar, not what I imagined the owner of an island real estate company would be like, but I don’t mind it. His blunt delivery reminds me of my counterparts from my military days. I know how to work with people like him—do your job and they’re happy. I especially admire how his nephew seems to get on his nerves, but I wonder if he’ll choose family over me now that I’ve been caught in not one but two scuffles with Andrew.
I pause near Lou’s office when Andrew looks like he’s about to engage in a repeat of the doorway sandwich we just disentangled ourselves from. Glowering at him, I fold my arms and wait for him to pass. He rolls his eyes and strides in, plopping lazily into one of the chairs in front of Lou’s cluttered desk.
I walk over to the other chair like a mature adult and take a seat, straightening my tie. Inhaling slowly, I put on my soldier’s face, awaiting my ass-chewing like a responsible human being.
“I’m not even going to ask what the fuck that was about,” Lou fumes. “Today is too important. The clients showed up early, and I’ve got to make a decision about who’s going to handle their viewings.”
“Well, Uncle Lou, I can help you out with that right now,” Andrew says cheerfully. “I’ll gladly do it. Happy to help, as always. You know I’m your guy.”
“Shut the fuck up, Andrew. You don’t even know what they want yet.”
I lock up a snort over his uncle’s quick dismissal and bite the inside of my cheek. Hearing Lou put his nephew in his place will never get old. Maybe my job isn’t in jeopardy over the doorway scuffle after all.
