Reckless Hearts (Oak Harbor #2)(30)

The show must go on.

I stumble out of bed and get dressed, sneezing every other breath. I look like death warmed over, but I manage to slap on some concealer and make myself look halfway human before heading to the door.

The hallway starts spinning. I cling to the wall.

No. Not today. Mind over matter, I tell myself, that’s all that counts. For a moment, I wish I was a kid again, tucked in my pajamas while Mom brings me hot tea, but I’m an adult, and adulting means downing two shots of Emergen-C and three multi-vitamins and giving myself an epic pep talk while I try not to cough up a lung.

Repeat after me: you’re a goddamn rock star, you can beat a mild fever any day.



Rock star or not, by noon, fever is whipping my ass. “And look at all these windows,” I surreptitiously blow my nose, guiding Liv Sullivan and her sister, Annie, through the next house. They’re the tip I got the other week: in her sixties and recently widowed, Annie wants to move to Oak Harbor to be closer to her sister and family. We’ve been looking at small, low-maintenance properties for her all morning, but this cute craftsman cottage is definitely the best of the bunch. “South-facing, so you get the sea breezes. And the light is incredible—”I sneeze again. “Excuse me.”

Annie fishes a tissue from her bag. “Are you sure you’re OK, sweetie?” she looks concerned.

“I’m fine! Just, hayfever allergies, that’s all,” I cover, ushering them through to the cute, farmhouse-style kitchen that opens up to a small, flower-filled garden. “Isn’t this just adorable? You said you had a green thumb, didn’t you?”

“Oh, look at that courtyard!” Liv exclaims. “Can’t you just imagine having a nice cup of coffee out there, with all the pretty flowers?”

Annie looks around, starting to smile. She’s been quiet and hard to read all morning, but finally, I recognize the look in her eyes. That’s the look my clients get when they find The One: when they can imagine themselves living somewhere for real, cooking dinner at the range and unpacking their books on the hallway shelves.

“You two go wander, soak it up,” I tell them. “I’ll have a chat with the broker, see what the situation is.”

Annie glances around. There are at least three other people looking around right now, some couples, and a family with kids in tow, who are loudly talking about how perfect it is, and how they need to make an offer right away. “I don’t want to get in a bidding war,” Annie whispers, looking worried. “The budget’s already tight.”

“Don’t worry,” I reassure her. “Let me figure that out.”

The women head outside, and I can see them talking—Liv enthusiastic, but Annie is already worried she’s going to lose out before this new life is even hers.

“Great property, isn’t it?” I look up. The selling agent has come into the room, a smug smile on his face. Ron Parsons, a broker from up the coast, heavyset in a lime-green polo shirt and chinos. “We’re getting a lot of interest.”

“Hmmm.” I smile, non-committal. “That’s great.”

“If your buyers are interested in making an offer, I’ll tell you now, you should probably go full ask, or even a little more,” he adds, as if he’s doing me a favor. “Like I said, this won’t last long.”

I hide a smile. Ron has a reputation for bidding up the value of a house with some underhand tricks, and I’m pretty sure that loud, enthusiastic family has been at every one of his open houses for the past year. So either they’re really, really picky, or Ron here has roped in his extended family to show up and try to pressure other buyers into putting in high bids.

“Do you actually have any offers?” I ask sweetly.

“Not right now,” Ron admits, clearing his throat. “But they’re coming soon.”

“Right. Well, we have a bunch of other places to look at, so I’m not sure this one will rate.” I look around with an exaggerated sigh. “These older houses, you never know the problems lurking.” I wrinkle my nose. “Is that . . . mold?” Right on cue, I sneeze, only this time, it’s actually helpful: Ron’s eyes widen with horror.

“Mold? No!”

“Huh, OK then.” I casually stuff the flyer in my bag. “We’ll let you know.”

Ron walks off, anxiously sniffing at the air. I smile. This place will be perfect for Annie, but I’m not going to let her spend a dollar more than she’s comfortable paying. I’ll let Ron hang for another few days, then make a low opening offer, and see where we can wind up.

My phone rings. It’s Will calling, and I answer with a sneeze. “Sorry,” I sniffle, making a mental note to pick up more vitamins. “Hi.”

“You OK?” he asks. “You don’t sound too hot.”

“Ugh, I’m not,” I admit. “I think I caught a chill yesterday.”

“Poor baby.” Will sounds sympathetic. “You need me to bring anything?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” I insist. “But I think I better take a rain check on hanging out, at least until I’m feeling better.”

“Sounds good. Let me know how you’re doing.”

I hang up, fighting guilt. Blowing off Will isn’t an excuse, I tell myself. I am sick, and lord knows I wouldn’t want to be around me right now.