Page 9 of Striker

Who knew Dani Green could clean up like this?

For a while, I just watch her. Watch her and see her for the first time, like I’ve never seen her before.

This woman is my forbidden teenage fantasy, all grown up.

While I watch her, I see her leading the tour of the house. I see her fielding questions. I see that smile slip, just a moment, and watch as one family peels away from the group and I step aside as they exit the house and head to their car.

When I look back at her, those expressive brown eyes of hers sparkle with less confidence than before. Tension grips the corners of her wide smile. Yet she keeps her composure.

But even I can see she’s losing them; the husbands with the down-turned frowns, the mothers with the probing, prying eyes and the too-tight smiles.

Now I can see my mission clearly: even if she still turns me down for the wedding, I need to erase the doubt and insecurity from her eyes; Danielle Green deserves better.

I open the door and, in my loudest voice, say, “Where’s Ms. Danielle Green?”

All eyes turn to me.

Two of the dads step in front of their wives, putting a protective arm in front of them. The other two do so, but only after a chiding elbow from their partners.

And Dani just stares at me, open-mouthed, wide-eyed, confused. She might be surprised, but she recovers quickly.

“What can I do for you… uh, sir? And why do you have roses?”

I step forward, chest puffed, a grateful grin on my face, and extend them to her. She takes them in a slow, shocked grip. “I’m just here to say ‘thank you’ to the woman who sold me my home. Maybe you don’t remember me, Ms. Green, but you helped me find a home — not just a house, but ahome— a while ago. I have to tell you it is the first time since getting out of the Marines where I have had a place where I feel at peace. Never would’ve imagined feeling that way in a million years, but I come home at night and I go to sleep with a smile on my face.”

Then I turn to the families. They’re all staring at me in slack-jawed surprise.

I point a declarative finger right at them.

“If you all have a lick of sense, you will listen to this woman and work with her, because she sure as hell is excellent at listening to your needs and working her butt off to get you the home that you deserve. I’d worked with other realtors before finding Ms. Green, and I can tell you that all of them were nothing but a waste of time. They fucking sucked, if you’ll pardon my French. But not Ms. Green. She listens, she cares, and she fights to get you what you want. No one else does. So even if you’re not the lucky one who has their offer on this house accepted, if you have a working brain cell in your body, you’ll take her business card and you’ll let her fight for you.”

Before I’ve even finished speaking, a business card is in the hands of every adult in the room, and half of the kids have taken one, too. One’s even drawn a mustache on Dani with a crayon and I’ll be damned if she doesn’t look gorgeous with facial hair, too.

“Do you all mind if I take a quick second to reacquaint myself with this former customer?” She says, her voice shaking with emotion. Then she takes me by the arm and leads me to the other side of the house, to a dining room that really is spacious and well organized.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Owen?” She hisses.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Being a damned fool and trying your absolute fucking hardest to embarrass me and sabotage this open house. Are you trying to ruin my career because I turned you down?”

Even angry, she’s stunning.

I shake my head.

“You know that’s not what I’m doing. Did you see how those people looked at you? I guarantee you every single one of those families makes an offer on this house.” Her anger wavers, just for a second, and I push on, taking the opening. “I’m here because Dixon and I didn’t pay you any respect the other night. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me to hear he hasn’t respected you at all ever since this wedding thing came up. Well, I respect you. I care about you. I know you want to be at this wedding because you care about your friend, and I understand that. Well, I want to be at this wedding, with you, because I care about you and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Is that true?”

“You know I care about you, Dani. Always have, always will. Even if Smokey hadn’t come to me, I’d still ask to come with you to this wedding because I can’t bear the idea of you getting hurt.” All of which is true, but there’s another reason she doesn’t know about: I’m asking her because it’s the thing I’ve ached to do since the moment I met her. Nothing can ever happen between us — she’s my best friend’s little sister — but seeing her in a bridesmaid dress, dancing with her, spending a weekend faking a relationship that I have wanted with her for so long, that’s close enough… right?

A smile crosses her face.

It’s small, sly, seductive. I can’t tell whether to feel hope from it or dread it.

“Fine, Owen. You can come. You can be my date for the wedding. It was nice of you to do this for me today… This house, it wasn’t the assignment I wanted, there’s a bigger project I had my eyes on, but, as usual, my bosses assigned it to a different agent. Sometimes, I feel like they just don’t notice me… Anyway, yes, you can come with me to the wedding. But remember: you’re just going as my friend and my bodyguard. We’ll fake it for everyone else, do what we have to in public, but that’s it. Oh, and one more thing: if you try any more stunts like what you did right here, I will throw another baseball at you, and this time, I’ll put enough heat on it that won’t walk right for the rest of your life. Are we clear?”

I might be in over my head, but I’m exactly where I need to be to set things right with Dixon.

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