Maybe it shouldn’t matter—I did just land another big client and another potentially huge deal that will probably keep me from being fired. But it does matter, more than I want it to.
After arranging to meet Shawn for coffee tomorrow to sign a contract—oh God, I have to figure out how to write a real contract up and not just the mock ones I had to do when I was taking my real estate course—I hang up. And do my best to ignore the happy dance Alice is doing around my desk.
“Holy shit!” she whisper-screams as she grabs me and spins my chair around. “What is going on between you and Hunter Browning?”
“Nothing!” I whisper-hiss back.
“Yeah, right! I’m not saying he wouldn’t recommend you to his teammates after the deal is done, but come on. His counteroffer hasn’t even been accepted yet and already you’re getting calls?”
“One call. I’ve gotten one call. And, hey. If they accept our counteroffer, I will have saved Hunter eight and a half million dollars on this house. That’s nothing to sneeze at, even when you’re as rich as they are.”
I know I’m protesting too much—especially considering what Hunter and I got up to yesterday—but
Alice is hitting on every single one of my insecurities. It must show, because suddenly she changes her tune.
“I’m just kidding, Emerson. It’s cool that he’s reccing you around. I’m just saying, maybe he’s trying to impress you, you know? Trying to get your attention by sending his big money friends your way.”
It might be a good theory, but it’s pretty obvious that he already has more of my attention than I had any intention of giving him. I’m not saying I’m not grateful for what he’s done for me, because I am. I’m just saying that I don’t want to get used to it. Don’t want to come to expect my rich boyfriend—if that’s what he is, considering we haven’t even had our first date yet—to take care of me. My mom has done that her whole life and look what it’s gotten her. Five husbands later, and she’s still dependent on a man to give her whatever she needs.
“Come on!” Alice says when I continue to look serious. “We are so going to celebrate. Lunch is on me!”
“You don’t need to—”
“I certainly do!” She winks at me. “You’re totally the up-and-coming new agent at SDCL. I need to get on your good side. Besides, you can hit me back after your first paycheck. So get your purse and let’s go!”
I glance at the clock—I’m already ten minutes into my hour-long lunch break. “Okay, fine. Just let me roll the phone over.”
“Do it fast,” she says. “We need time to strategize how to break the news to Kerry that she can’t fire you. I totally wanna be here when you tell her about Shawn.”
Oh, shit. Like I wasn’t stressed out enough by this latest development? My stomach pitches and rolls and suddenly I’m not sure lunch is such a good idea, after all.
But Alice is waiting, so I grab my purse and we head for the door. But before we can even get there, a courier comes in bearing several large bags.
Figuring they’re for Kerry, I step back to my desk so I can sign for them. But Alice’s eyes are huge and she’s pointing straight at me behind the courier’s back. I have no idea what she’s getting at until the courier asks for Emerson Day. For…me.
And then I get it all too well.
Hunter did this.
I sign for the bags—what else am I going to do—then reach for my purse, and my last twenty dollars, to give the guy a tip. But he just smiles and tells me it’s all taken care of. Then he disappears and I am left with a reception area full of bags. And not just any bags. Nordstrom bags.
I like high-end things as much as the next girl, but I make no move to open any of the packages, even after the courier leaves. In fact, for long seconds I don’t do anything at all. Just stare at the bags and wonder what the hell I’m going to do now.
Alice has no such compunction. She’s almost squealing as she grabs the first bag and all but throws it at me. “Open it, open it, open it!”
“Ssssh,” I tell her, glancing furtively around. But it’s too late. We have the attention of all four of the agents who happen to be in the office right now. And since all of them know that I spent yesterday showing Hunter Browning around, I’d say it’s a safe bet that they know who these packages came from, too.
I don’t want to open the damn bags. Not here and maybe not ever. But I have to do something—partly to shut Alice up and partly because there are so many of the damn things that they’re blocking my whole work area.
Damn it. This isn’t what I wanted. Isn’t close to what I wanted.
“If you don’t open one of these bags, then I’m going to,” Alice threatens.
“We’re at work!”
“You’re on your lunch break! You can do what you like.”
“Yeah, until Kerry comes out here and finds this mess.” But I give in, picking up four of the bags and piling them behind my desk. They’re not exactly invisible, but they’re a little less obvious than when they were in the middle of the damn lobby.