Page 10 of The Hometown Dilemma
Austen:I’m heading back to the office now, so I’ll see you there.
Shit, shit, shit. If I didn’t get a move on, I would be late. And that definitely wasn’t the best impression to make.
Scrambling for the phone, I quickly tapped out a reply.
Jaime:Sure, I’m on my way!
Austen:Great - I’ll have a coffee waiting.
He added a smiley face emoji for good measure.
I couldn’t believe how well our impromptu night out at Dempsey’s had gone. Initially, I’d been apprehensive about going, not knowing how Cami would be around Wade. But when she’d disappeared outside with that football player, I knew she was absolutely fine about their break-up. Chatting with Wade and Austen had also brought this fantastic career opportunity and I couldn’t have been more grateful to Wade for suggesting it. If worse came to worst, I could always reprise my bartending stint at Dempsey’s. Depending how the appointment went today, I might need to take Wade up on the offer.
The phone pinged again.
Austen:Don’t be late. Mrs. Channing is a stickler for punctuality!
Mrs. Channinghadto be Moira Channing, one of Mom’s best friends. How ironic she could turn out to be my first client. Mom would have to take me seriously then.
Still standing in only my underwear, I had a fifteen-minute journey to Austen’s office, and I had to get dressed and do my hair and make-up.
I wriggled into the dress and threw the blazer on over the top. Twirling around in front of the mirror, it hit the exact smart-slash-casual look I’d been going for. I looked professional but creative and edgy. Trying to do as many things as I could at once, I slid on a pair of killer heels in a nude shade, and I twisted my hair up into a messy bun. I slicked on some tinted moisturizer, did a quick smokey eye, and finished off the look with a rose lipstick which was a similar color to my dress.
Satisfied with the image I presented, I grabbed my purse and laptop bag and set off to Austen’s office.
AR Real Estate was in the center of town, and I struggled to find parking space, which meant I ended up being around five minutes late.
Blustering in through the door like a whirlwind, I frantically looked around for Austen, ready with an apology. He sat at one of the desks, studying his screen. Hearing my arrival, he glanced up and grinned.
“Parking, right?”
I nodded, out of breath from having hot footed it across from the parking lot in ridiculous shoes. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay. We have plenty of time to get to Mrs. Channing’s place.” He got up and moved towards me, the act making the other agents in the office take notice. “I promised you coffee. How do you take it?”
“Could I have a glass of water instead?” I didn’t want coffee breath at a client meeting. And I didn’t need the extra caffeine; I was jittery enough already.
“Sure, let’s get that sorted.” Austen placed a hand in the small of my back and gently propelled me in the direction of their kitchen area. I could feel the eyes of the other agents on me, and I wondered how much Austen had told them about what I was doing here.
“So where does Mrs. Channing live?”
“Ridge Heights.”
“Oh, okay.” I nodded, trying not to be impressed. The properties in Ridge Heights tended to be a lot fancier than in the center of town or where Cami and I lived. I could only imagine the commission Austen might earn if he sold a house there. Austen passed me a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and I swallowed some down, trying to stop my mouth from being so dry. A bunch of nerves had hit, and I couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason, but this meant so much to me and I didn’t want to mess anything up.
“She’s already said she’ll recommend you to her friends if she likes what you come up with,” Austen commented. He took a swig of his own drink, obviously less worried about coffee breath.
“Wow, really?” I couldn’t believe how much Austen was doing to help me. At this rate, I’d have an amazing portfolio way more quickly than I’d expected.
“Of course. It’s a small town, remember? Not like New York,” he teased.
I giggled. “Of course.”
Austen glanced up at the huge clock on the wall. “We should get going. I don’t want to hit traffic.”
Traffic in Abbott Ridge was nothing compared to what I’d experienced in New York. Gridlock on the bridge was a regular occurrence at any time of day, whereas I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had to stop here, except maybe for that freak snowstorm one winter.
A ripple of butterflies made their way from my stomach up to my throat. “Great, let’s go.” I put down my drink, trying to ignore my shaking hand.
