CLARICE
Not many people wandered in without appointments on blustery December days, so Clarice was surprised by the sound of the outside door and gave a guilty little start. She wasn’t really goofing off—she was very disciplined about making sure her working hours were spent working, even if she could argue that she certainly put in enough after-hours time to justify reading a book when the office was slow. She was flipping through the property binder now, brushing up on all the places that were available so she could do a good job selling them, notjustdaydreaming about owning one of them herself.
The rationale didn’t really convince her, so she looked up, already feeling remorseful, and saw the gorgeous man whose son she hadn’t kidnapped stomping his feet off on the mat.
She scrambled ungracefully to her feet; Veronica had set up the two level front desk so that when Clarice was sitting, she was awkwardly staring right across the surface of the countertop. She greatly preferred to stand at thesame height as a customer, even when it meant hovering uncomfortably on her side of the counter.
“Can I help you?” she offered, too loudly in the quiet office. (Veronica hated having music playing; she said it was too hard to find somethingeveryonewould like, and that they might not make a sale if they put someone off with music that was not to their taste.)
Gil’s dad stared at her a moment, and Clarice was uncomfortably aware of the blush heating her cheeks. It wasn’t like he had caught her looking at porn or anything. House porn didn’t count.
“Clarice, right? I didn’t properly thank you. For bringing Gil back.”
“Oh! Of course!” Clarice bit back the hundred questions she still had about the incident.HadGil teleported? Could his dad do that, too? What else was possible? Maybe she was under alove spelland that was why she’d been thinking about this guy all day.She shook herself. “Can I help you find a…house?”
“Actually, I think you can,” he said, sounding surprised. He glanced at Veronica’s open door.
“Veronica is out this afternoon,” Clarice said. “I can make you an appointment if you need to see her specifically?”
“Oh no,” he said hastily. “I’m happier to talk with you. Just as happy! I’m looking for a house. Not looking, exactly. Browsing. Window shopping. I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”
Clarice was irrationally delighted. She knew she ought to be more excited for someone coming in prepared and closer to a sale, but she genuinely loved starting the process of finding the perfect home for someone. And she wasn’t that good at reading body language, but he was smiling at her, like maybe even aflirtingsort of smile.
“Residential?” she confirmed. “Do you have an area in mind?”
“Not the Tails,” he chuckled. Clarice managednotto wince. She had daily reminders that she lived in the worst part of town. “Other than that…well, I work off Main street, but I’d like a quieter neighborhood. Something close to a good elementary school.”
He had at least one kid and was probably married. Clarice told herself that she wasn’t disappointed as she cast a glance at his hand for a ring. He was wearing gloves, so no help there. “I have lots of options,” she said, picking up the binder she had been browsing and turning it to place on the counter before him. “This one is sorted by neighborhood. If you’re looking for a place to raise kids, I’d suggest starting with the red tab. There’s a map at the front of each section, and it shows the overlaps with other sections. There’s a key—these are schools, grocery stores, hospitals. And these symbols are on each listing, showing things like home owner associations, or fenced yards.” Clarice made herself shut up instead of prattling on.
“A fenced yard would be nice,” he said thoughtfully, flipping through a few pages. He didn’t have a ring on under his gloves, when he took them off to turn pages more easily. That didn’t really mean anything, though. Lots of married people didn’t wear rings, right? “This is really nicely organized.”
Clarice flushed happily and had no idea how to respond. A normal person would have said thank you, but she tried to say something more clever to impress him, and it took her too long to think of anything, and by the time she realized she should just stick with a vague, polite answer, he had already turned a few more pages and she was pretty sure that any answer would sound awkward.
“What’s this?” he asked, pointing at a symbol.
It was upside down, so Clarice had to lean forwards and tip her head to make it out. “A well. That one has a private well; it’s not hooked up to city water.”
“Is that a problem?”
He smelled good when she leaned close. Not cloying like body spray, but something more subtle. Maybe just soap? But a goodguy-like soap. Clarice probably smelled like boring Irish Spring and coffee.
“Well, as part of the buying process, the bank would insist that the well be tested for output and quality and surveyed for nearby hazards—it can’t be too close to a septic system, for example. But the water table here is good; the worst you’d have to do is put in a new pump or install a new filter. It’s generally cheaper than paying for water, and I personally think it tastes better.”
When Clarice looked up, Bruno wasn’t looking at the sell sheet, but at her, very thoughtfully. He looked away too fast, like he was shy about being caught. Was that how normal people flirted?
“How many bedrooms do you think you’re looking for?” Clarice asked, retreating back to a safe distance on her side of the counter. She shouldn’t be smelling the customers.
“Well, Gil needs a room, and it would be nice to have a room for an office. Three bedrooms would be just right.”
That didn’t mean a wife or not, Clarice decided. They could share an office. Or maybe the office was for her. Or maybe he had a husband! She shouldn’t be too narrow-minded. “Gil’s a nice name,” she said inanely.
“Short for Gilbert,” he said. “He’s five.”
“Fun age,” Clarice said, though she wasn’t sure it was. “Does he go to Kindergarten?”
“In the mornings. Afternoons, he’s just down the street at Tiny Paws.”
Right. Tiny Paws.
