“I’m not most people.”
I pause and motion toward the front of the living room. “Their original arch was preserved when the windows were torn out and reinstalled with double-paned glass. All except for the one that crowns them. The stained glass was too lovely to sacrifice.”
Our gazes hold. He says nothing, as though he doesn’t know why I’ve stopped talking.
An irritated knot twists in my chest. I turn on my heel and lead him toward a door on the far side. “This might interest you,” I begin, but Tanner cuts me off.
“How do you know what interests me?”
Surprised and with my hand settling on the copper doorknob, I lock eyes with him.
He’s so intense, this man.
I will not let him intimidate me.
“Mr. Hamilton, every powerful man I’ve ever known loves a library such as this.” I glide the door forward and we enter my favorite room in the house. “The ceiling is fourteen feet high. All the walls are deep mahogany, not just the one entirely made up of bookshelves, top to bottom. The floors, as you can see, match. Those were painstakingly reinstalled but the scarred walls are all original. There is history here that gives it a sense of magic and depth.”
The bored stare has vanished, replaced by subtle enthrallment. I’m pleased by his reaction as he walks to the rolling ladder and touches the aged wood. Standing in one place he pushes it forward and back to watch the wheels spin. Dropping his arm he steps away to get a better view, neck craning to drink in the possibilities. There are no books on the shelves now, but it seems he’s picturing them filled if he were to buy this massive home for himself.
I bet this would be his office. I can see his feet up on a glorious desk as he reads the Atlanta Journal, a steaming cup of black coffee waiting for his lips. He’d absently rake confident fingers through his hair before reaching for a sip. The door would open and he’d glance to it…
“You were right.”
Blinking back to reality I clear my throat. “Excuse me?”
“This interests me.”
Think of something witty to say.
Don’t just stand here.
What the hell is wrong with you?
“Wonderful,” I smile. “I thought you might like it.” Walking out the door and into the tiled living room I’m listening for footsteps that don’t come.
Should I go back and get him?
Pausing on the center tiles I look behind me. He’s leaning on the wall outside the library, both hands stashed in his pockets, chin dipped a little, looking at me from under his eyebrows.
“Mr. Hamilton?”
Holding my stare, a slow smirk tugs at the left corner of his mouth. “Carry on…Emma.”
He said my name like I’m a naive little girl. He still hasn’t dropped his original opinion of me? This man is waiting for a reason to end this tour, isn’t he? Send me back to the office, made insecure with the feeling I won’t be taken seriously for years. Well, that’s not going to happen.
I smile, “Right this way…Tanner,” and turn on my heel, adding in a teasing tone, “Don’t make me wait this time.”
He chuckles and pushes off the wall.
It goes on like this through all the rooms. I talk and he listens, silent and mysterious. Sometimes he smirks which only makes me act more detached. Our eyes lock time and again, each time holding a little longer like two bulls deciding if we’re going to lock horns…or let the other live. I’d prefer the former. I’m getting to a point where I’d like to punch him and ask him who the hell he thinks he is!
This is not my first showing.
I’ve had countless commissions.
All very happy buyers.
Nobody studies properties like I do.
Not even Cora.
I go the extra mile.
Learn more.
Know more.
That’s how you succeed.
Tanner Hamilton will see that I’m the best realtor he’s ever met if I have to pound it into his patronizing head!
“Excuse me a minute, would you?” He gracefully slides his phone from his pocket and dials, lifting it to his ear and saying, “Dan, reschedule my haircut. I have to see a couple more homes today.” He hangs up and eyes me.
“Was that your assistant?”
“Clearly.”
“Did he even get a chance to talk?”
“No.”
I control a sigh, but my brows tie in a knot, telling Tanner just how ridiculous I think he is.
CHAPTER 5
EMMA
“M om?” Doesn’t look like anyone’s home but I saw her car parked out front. “Mom, you home?”
Dad’s voice booms from the back yard. “Baby Love? Outside! Bring lemonade, will ya?”
Walking to the refrigerator, I glance at the photographs pinned with magnets, most of them askew. Eric with two missing front teeth in the first grade. Ethan and I wrestling when I was ten with me red-faced from laughing so hard. Eric in a pileup on the field during high school after they won the game. That was right before he found out about his scholarship. Ethan holding a ribbon from a contest he won in the math and science fair, age twelve. Me at prom with Tyler O’Reilly, the boy I lost my virginity to, but nobody besides me and Hannah knows that.
I pause, gazing at my favorite one that rests right in the middle of them all. It’s Mom and Dad kissing before a date-night when I made them stop on their way out, to let me take their picture.
And I can’t help but smile at the letter Mom has pinned up from the Botanical Gardens reminding her it’s time to renew the family’s memberships. Ethan, Eric and I are all grown up, but she still buys them for us every year, handing over the cards and insisting, If I stopped getting these, you might not go.
Filling a couple of glasses, I put the pitcher back in the fridge and walk through my old dining and living rooms, so familiar I can’t even see the details anymore.
Outside, Dad is squatting as he hammers
