Page 37 of Playing for Keeps
“Do you have a property to sell, Wyatt?” Isobel asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah. A penthouse in Phoenix.”
“If you're looking for someone with experience handling high-end listings like this one, Harper Estates is a great choice. You’d be well looked after.”
“I’m not looking. I already have someone.”
She raises a brow. “Who’s handling the listing, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Ivy James Estates.”
She actually laughs. Not a chuckle, a full-on laugh, like I’ve just told her a joke. “Ivy?” she says, her tone dripping with disbelief. “You do realize she’s never managed a listing like that before?”
My jaw tightens. “I know.”
“Wyatt, I say this with respect, but you need someone who knows how to move a property like that. This isn’t a starter home we’re talking about. It doesn’t have to be me–”
“But you’d prefer it if it was,” I cut in.
She gives a practiced smile and places a hand on my arm. “Naturally. Look, Ivy’s a sweet girl. She did fine when she worked for me. But selling a penthouse takes more than charm. You need someone with experience, knowledge, reach.”
Anger bubbles under my skin. I take a step back, and her hand drops away.
“I think we’re done here,” I say, keeping my voice as steady as I can. I’m trying not to be rude, but I’m dangerously close to crossing that line.
“Wyatt–”
“No,” I cut in firmly. “We’re done.”
“Is everything okay?” Ivy asks, appearing at the top of the deck steps, glancing between the two of us.
“Everything’s fine,” I say, turning to her. “But we’re leaving.”
Without hesitation, I reach for her hand and slide my fingers through hers, not caring how it looks. I lead her back through the house, ignoring the sound of Isobel’s heels clicking behind us.
“Wyatt, wait, please–”
“I won’t be making an offer,” I say over my shoulder. “This place isn’t the right fit.”
Thankfully, she doesn’t follow us outside. I keep hold of Ivy’s hand until we reach the car. I open her door, and she looks up at me, her eyes searching mine as she slides into the seat.
I exhale as I shut the door and circle around the front of the car to the driver’s side. I already know she’s going to ask what just happened, and I’m going to have to tell her. I just don’t want to be the one to upset her.
It takes her until we’re almost back at her place to ask.
“What happened, Wyatt?”
I glance at her. “She was just trying to get me to go with her for the sale of my apartment.”
“What exactly did she say?”
I hesitate. “It’s not important. I told her I’m more than happy with my realtor.”
“Wyatt.” Her tone is firmer now. “What did she say?”
I let out a slow breath. “She said you don’t have experience with high-end listings. That I should work with someone more established, someone used to handling properties like mine.”
“Let me guess,” she says with a sigh. “Harper Estates?”
