Until April (Until Her/Him #10)(2)

“Are you trying to scare me, or bring me a new client?” I smile while putting on a pair of my favorite sweats.

“Just be careful.” He sighs.

“Right.” I shake my head. “Send me his information. I can handle myself,” I assure him, padding out of my bedroom and back downstairs to the kitchen.

“I know you can,” he says thoughtfully as I open the door to the fridge and take out the chicken I left marinating in a mix of orange juice and spices this morning. “Maybe I should be worried about him.”

“That would probably be wise. You should call and warn him now.”

“I might just do that.” He laughs before we say our goodbyes and hang up.

The thing is… I’m not joking. I’ve found that most men find me too gruff, too aggressive, too forward. They don’t know how to handle a woman who isn’t willing to lie down and accept whatever fate someone else chooses for them.

And I sure as hell am not going to make myself smaller just to make a man feel better about himself.

_______________

STANDING IN FRONT of the full-length mirror in my bathroom, I check my reflection to make sure I haven’t gone overboard, which I have a tendency to do on occasion. I love makeup, clothes, and shoes, so there are times I look like I’m ready for a night out on the town rather than a day of selling houses.

Today, I look the part of a professional, with my ankle-length black slacks, black tank, and a little pizzazz added by my blazer with its leather detailing. When my watch buzzes on my wrist, I flip it over and smile when I see it’s Harris confirming I’m picking him up at his house in two hours. It’s Wednesday, my favorite day of the week, the one day I get to spend with my part-time assistant and friend.

After sending him a thumbs-up emoji using my watch, I head for my closet to grab my black patent leather Louboutin heels and carry them downstairs. I drop them on the floor next to the island in the kitchen, then slip off my blazer, hanging it on the back of a chair at the bar, then press the button to turn on the coffee pot. Once I make myself eggs and toast, I hit the button to open the glass garage door in my living room and take my plate and coffee with me outside to eat on my screened-in porch.

Eight months ago, my sister May got a teaching job in a small town near our parents, so I decided that rather than renting another apartment, I’d buy a townhouse. It didn’t take me long to decide on my place after I settled on a location, but I did have to wait for my unit to be built, which was not exactly ideal. That said, it was worth the frustration. My twenty-two hundred square foot home is unique in lots of ways, but my favorite feature is the fact that, with the press of a button, a wall opens up in my living room, giving me indoor/outdoor living that looks kick-ass, especially with a view of the forest behind my place.

Settled at my outdoor table, I turn on the news for background noise while I eat my breakfast and scroll through emails on my phone. When I see that Maxim has written me back, I open it up and smile as I read his reply to the latest list of homes I sent him to look over.

April,

Though I appreciate your use of my entire budget, I have no desire to raise horses or cows on two hundred acres. I would also rather not be over thirty minutes from the nearest grocery store. What would happen if I needed to run out to pick up milk in the morning? I think you need to go back to the drawing board. We can talk about what you come up with next and catch up tomorrow evening over drinks.

Refusing to think about why the idea of coming face-to-face with him makes me nervous, I quickly email him back.

Maxim,

I would like to remind you that you didn’t like any of the homes I previously sent you. I believe your exact words were “I don’t want neighbors in case I decide to skinny dip or walk outside naked.” In regards to purchasing milk, there is a Dollar General ten minutes from that estate, where you can easily buy milk, or if you did decide to keep the cows, you could go out in the morning and get it fresh from the source. You could even do that naked, if you so desired. All that said, I aim to please, so I will continue to search for the perfect house for you.

As for drinks, I’m not sure that will be possible. I’ll let you know.

I press Send, then set my phone down and eat what’s left of my breakfast before going back inside to dump my dishes in the dishwasher and finish getting ready for work.

Forty-five minutes later, I pull up and park in front of the assisted living housing unit Harris and his wife Molly moved into a year ago when they got married, then shut down the engine and grab my bag off the passenger seat. I get out and head up to his front door, and before I can even ring the bell, I hear a loud bark, then a moment later the shuffling of feet before the door opens.

“A-pril.” Harris gives me his handsome smile, hugging me with one arm before opening the door to let me inside. Two years ago, I met Harris when I started working for his father’s realtor office, and it didn’t take us long to become fast friends. Before him, I had never met someone with Down Syndrome, but I learned quickly that people like him are more than just an extra chromosome and identifying facial features. He and his wife are two of the kindest people I have ever met in my life, and their positive outlook and determination to succeed despite having what most consider a disability only made me respect and love them more.

“Where’s Molly?” I ask, petting Ox, their black lab, before stepping around him.