Reckless Hearts (Oak Harbor #2)(5)

“True . . .” Miles reaches to sign, then pulls back his hand again. “I just don’t know. Maybe we should keep looking, make sure there’s nothing better around.”

“I can promise you, you won’t find anything so close to the links. Those condos get snatched up the minute they’re free.” But I can see he’s still wavering, so I give him a big smile and add, “You know what, if you’re not one hundred percent, then don’t sign. We can look as long as you want. I’m here to help you.”

Miles looks surprised. Maybe he was expecting me to strong-arm him with enthusiasm like other realtors, or threaten that we’d never find him something this good, but I never see the point in those kind of hard-sell tactics. My clients aren’t just commissions to me: they’re my neighbors, too. Miles here sold insurance to my parents, volunteers alongside me at the Christmas food drive, and once helped me duct-tape a leaking pipe when the water wouldn’t shut off. If he needs another day—or week, or month—before making his decision, that’s just fine with me.

“You know what? I’m being silly now,” he declares. “This place is perfect, and I know my golf handicap will never be better.” He signs the lease with a smile.

“Congratulations!” I reach across my desk and shake his hand. “I’ll get copies of everything made and set you up with an official move-in date.”

“Thanks for everything,” Miles says, getting to his feet. “I guess it’s time for a new beginning.”

“You’ll do great.”

By the time I see him out and finish printing up some papers, it’s time to close up for the day. I’m just leaving the files on my boss’s desk when my cell rings. I fish it from my pocket.

“Eva!” I exclaim, delighted, when I see the caller ID. “How are you? I miss you! When are you coming to visit? When can I come and visit you?”

She laughs down the line at my torrent of questions. “I’m great! I miss you too, not for a while yet, and whenever you get your ass up here!”

I sink into Marcie’s chair, feeling a pang at her familiar voice. Eva’s my best friend; she just moved away with her fiancé, and even though we talk and text all the time, it’s not the same. “This place isn’t the same without you,” I sigh. “It feels like you’re on the other side of the world. But tell me you’re having a great time.”

“The best.” I can hear the happiness in her voice. “Finn’s almost finished the new album, and I’m getting ready for classes.”

“Next week, right?” I swivel on the chair. “You excited?”

“Nervous,” she replies. “I can’t believe I’m going back to drama school after everything, but the teachers seemed really great, and we’re studying really interesting plays this semester.”

“You’ll be amazing,” I tell her, for the hundredth time. “Once you get up on-stage, that’s all you need. The town still talks about your Lady Macbeth in tenth grade.”

Eva laughs. “Enough about me, what’s new with you? How’s the empire-building?”

“It’s being built.” My gaze lands on a stack of magazines on Marcie’s desk. American Cruising, Boat & Berth. “I think Marcie’s going to retire soon.”

“You’ve been saying that for years,” Eva reminds me.

“I know, but this time, it’s for real,” I insist. “She’s barely in the office anymore, and when she is, all she does is talk about their boat and the place they just bought in the Florida Keys. She’s got one foot out the door already, I’m telling you. Maybe she was just waiting until someone could take over . . .”

“And by someone, you mean you.” Eva giggles.

“Who better?” I grin. “It’s her name above the door, but I’m the only one bringing in clients anymore. If she wants to leave, I’ve got some savings put aside, I could try and buy her out.”

“You think she’d go for it?” Eva asks.

“Who knows? But imagine if it worked out . . .” I feel a shiver of excitement at the possibility. “I would have my name above the door before I even turn twenty-five.”

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Eva says loyally. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re my best friend,” she adds, as if reading my mind. “You can sell snow to an eskimo. Remember when you sold the Kellerman’s house three times in six months—and got the buyers a profit every time?”

“Some people called it cursed, I like to think of it as opportunity.” I grin. “And the commissions didn’t hurt, either.”

“There you go.” I hear a noise in the background.

“What are you up to?” I ask.

“Just making some dinner,” Eva says. “Finn would live on takeout if it was up to him, but you should see this kitchen, it’s a crime not to use it.”

“The photos looked great,” I say enviously. It doesn’t hurt that her fiancé is a multi-platinum musician; number one hit singles buy a lot of counter space.

“What about you?” Eva munches on something. “Hot date tonight?”

“Only with my conditioning hair mask,” I reply, getting to my feet and straightening up before I flip the lights out and head back to my desk to grab my bag. “I’m going to pick up a pizza from Joe’s, then head home.”