Damn it. Probably he was right. The house was huge, historic, and located directly on the beach. Plus, it was being fixed up as part of a famous TV show. The publicity wouldn’t make it any cheaper.
Still, I refused to let it go. "But I'd have a down payment."
"Doesn't matter," he said. "The owner's not selling."
"You mean you?"
"That's what I said, isn't it?"
Just then, I heard the muffled sounds of car doors slamming in the driveway. This was quickly followed by the sounds of voices – male and female.
Brody cursed under his breath.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Do me a favor," he said. "Go stall 'em, will ya?"
"Why?"
"Just do it, alright?" Without waiting for my reply, he began coiling up the next hose. When I made no move, he said, "Or if you want, I'll stall them. And you hide this stuff."
Hide it? Seriously? "But wait. Why would anyone need to—"
"Just stall them," he said. "And I'll tell you later."
"You promise?"
"I'll tell you one thing," he said. "I won't tell you jack if they get in here before I'm done."
This was all the encouragement I needed. Without further protest, I turned and scrambled toward the stairway, giving Brody one final glance before my feet carried me out of sight. The last I saw of him, he had two hoses coiled over his shoulder and was reaching for the bucket of rags.
By the time I reached the front door, it was just swinging inward. I stopped it with my foot and practically leapt into the narrow opening.
On the front porch, the new arrivals drew back, as if startled by my sudden appearance. The group consisted of Waverly, along with Roy and two other guys who looked to be somewhere in their mid-thirties. Like Roy, the guys were dressed casually in jeans and work shirts. As for Waverly, she wore a sleek navy dress with matching high heels.
I poked my head further out of the doorway and plastered on a giant smile. "Oh, hi. So, how's it going?"
It was Waverly who answered, "Shitty. Now get out of my way."
Well that was pleasant.
Still, I put on my concerned face. "Oh, no. Is something wrong?"
It was Roy who answered. "Nothing too bad. They messed up her coffee order."
Waverly whirled to face him. "Not too bad? Seriously?" Through gritted teeth, she warned him, "You don’t know what I’m like without coffee."
Looking surprisingly unterrified, Roy replied, "Actually, I'm pretty sure I do." Behind him, the other two guys nodded in solemn agreement.
I chimed in, "Wow, that sounds really awful." Hoping to keep the conversation going, I asked, "So, um, who messed it up?"
Waverly's eyes narrowed as she turned to face me. "Are you mocking me?" she said.
"Me? No." Shockingly, this was actually true, even if I did think her distress was totally mock-worthy. But then, a moment later, I heard myself say, "So, who did this atrocity?"
Okay, so maybe I was mocking her now, but how could I help it?
Waverly sighed. "The yokel who works there, that's who. Now where's Brody?"
I tried not to snicker. "Really? There was a yokel?" I lowered my voice. "Tell me, did you report him to the authorities?"
"I tried," she huffed. "Turns out he owns the place."
"Wow," I said. "How terrible."
"Yeah. Tell me about it." As she spoke, she took a single step forward, as if expecting me to throw open the door and step aside. And when I didn't, she stopped short and eyed me with open hostility. "You're not moving."
I gave a few stupid blinks. "I'm not? Are you sure?"
Her jaw clenched. "I can see you."
"That's funny," I said. "I can see you, too."
"Oh, for God's sake." Waverly turned to Roy and said, "Move her out of the way, will ya?"
Roy looked from Waverly to me and back again before telling her, "I'm pretty sure that's not in my contract."
"Fine," she snapped. "I'll do it."
But just as she started to move forward again, a familiar male voice from somewhere beyond the porch asked, "Is there a problem?"
In unison, we all turned to look. As we did, Brody sauntered into view, as if he had all the time in the world.
I smiled in relief. Obviously, he'd slipped out the back while I'd been guarding the front.
At the sight of him, Waverly said, "There you are!"
"Yeah," he said. "So what's the problem?"
Waverly jerked her thumb vaguely over her shoulder and said, "She won't let us in."
Brody gave a loose shrug. "Yeah, well. It's hard to find good help, you know?"
Hearing this, I didn't know whether to laugh or throttle him. And besides, by now I'd already pulled open the door nice and wide – not that Waverly seemed to notice.
And why? It was because she was giving Brody that look again, like he was the tallest, tastiest cup of coffee ever.
I spoke up. "If you wanted to come in, you should've said so."
At this, I swear Roy snickered, even if he did cover it up with a cough. As for Waverly, she ignored me completely as she turned away and hustled off the porch to join Brody on the front walkway.
With a flirty smile, she leaned toward him and asked, "So, where were you?"
"Here," he said. "Where were you?"
"I was trying to get inside." Her tone grew breathless as she said, "Did you know it rained the other night?"
"Yeah, so?"
Her smile widened. "I'm betting we've got major damage." She said this like it was a good thing.
But Brody wasn't smiling. "You think?"
"Sure," she said. "I heard it rained like four inches." Sounding nearly orgasmic, she breathed, "Just think of the 'before' footage. If the ceiling caved in, we're gold, baby."
Baby?
Good grief.
I spoke up. "If you were so excited about the rain, why didn't you look inside yesterday?"
It was a valid question. Yesterday, she'd shown up at this very house, only to spend all of her time griping about the lawn. To the best of my knowledge, she hadn't even bothered to open the front door.
With a sound of annoyance, she
