Page 36 of Playing for Keeps
Ten minutes later, we pull up in front of a striking house. It's a sleek, two-story modern build with a black and glass exterior, all sharp angles and minimalist design. It stands out against the natural greenery around it, beautiful, but almost too perfect, like it doesn’t quite belong. The wide driveway stretches out before us, and to the left, I spot a large, detached building, most likely a garage that looks big enough to house my cars.
A silver Audi is parked out front, probably Isobel’s, and since the car's empty, she must already be inside.
I glance over at Ivy, who’s been quiet since we pulled up.
“What do you think?” I ask.
She studies the house for a moment. “It’s definitely impressive,” she says, but there’s hesitation in her voice.
I smile. “But…?”
She turns to look at me. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
Tearing my eyes from her, I focus back on the house. “I mean, yeah, it’s stunning. But I’m not sure it’s exactly what I pictured as my forever home.”
“Let’s take a look inside,” she says, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out. I follow her toward the front entrance.
The landscaping is pristine. Every blade of grass is perfectly trimmed, and the flowers seem to bloom in symmetry. Nothing is out of place. It’s immaculate. Too immaculate.
At the door, I press the bell and step back. A moment later, a woman in her late thirties opens it. Blonde, polished, and smiling widely until her eyes land on Ivy. The shift in herexpression is subtle, but I notice. The smile falters, and my mood sours immediately.
“You must be Wyatt,” she says quickly, recovering her composure. “Isobel Harper. Lovely to meet you.”
I take her hand, managing a polite smile. “Nice to meet you too.”
Her gaze flicks to Ivy.
“Ivy. I wasn’t expecting to see you. It’s highly irregular to attend another agent’s showing with your client. And dressed so casually? I thought I trained you better.”
Her eyes sweep over Ivy with barely disguised judgment. My jaw tightens, my irritation rising fast. I contemplate taking Ivy’s hand but think better of it.
“I think she looks great,” I say, flashing Ivy a grin. Then I turn back to Isobel. “And she’s not here as my realtor. I didn’t realize I needed permission to bring someone along.”
Isobel’s face flushes faintly. “Of course not. You’re welcome to bring anyone you’d like, Wyatt.” She steps aside, gesturing us in. “Come on in. I’ll show you around.”
I motion for Ivy to go ahead of me and follow her inside.
“Let’s start with the kitchen,” Isobel calls, already walking ahead.
I stop when I feel Ivy’s fingers brush against mine. She laces them with mine.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “You didn’t have to say anything… but thank you.”
“I definitely did,” I tell her. “Isobel was way out of line. For all she knows, you could be my realtorandmy girlfriend, and we’re buying this place together.”
Ivy’s eyes widen in surprise. “God, she’d probably choke if she thought we were datingandbuying a house like this.”
“It could happen,” I mutter. “She has no right to assume.”
“I have nothing to prove to her,” Ivy says dismissively, brushing it off like the idea of us dating is completely ridiculous. “Come on. She’s probably wondering where we are.”
She walks ahead, leaving me to follow.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe the idea of us together is strange, but it doesn’t feel strange to me. It feels like it could be something good… something that matters.
It doesn’t take long to figure out this place isn’t right for me. Sure, it’s stunning, with sleek tile floors, a floating staircase, a massive chef’s kitchen, and a view that’s straight out of a magazine, but it feels cold, much like my apartment in Phoenix. Stylish, but soulless. I want something warmer this time. Something that feels like home.
While Ivy explores the private beach area, I’m standing on the raised deck with Isobel. She’s doing her best to sell the place, but my attention keeps drifting back to Ivy, who’s tossing stones into the water, carefree and beautiful in the sunlight.
