Frustrated with the unfamiliar emotions, he tipped the plastic bottle up, chugging the rest of its contents in one long gulp.
Using the trash compactor Brynnon had installed to save floor space—one of many brilliant moves on her part—he pressed his booted toe down onto black pedal and waited for its rectangular drawer to slide open before crushing the bottle in his fist and tossing it inside.
When he shoved the contraption closed a little harder than necessary, it made a loud banging sound right as Brynnon and the couple returned from the bedroom. The three stopped in their tracks, Brynnon’s eyes growing wide as they met his.
Scrambling for an excuse other than being pissed at his overactive libido, Grant offered an awkward apology.
“Sorry. This one closes a lot easier than the one at my place.”
There was no trash compactor at his apartment, but they’d never know that.
“So.” Brynnon tore the young couple’s attention away from him. “What do you think of the house?”
The woman looked up at her husband with a hopeful grin. “I love it.”
He smiled back down at her. “I do, too.” The man turned to Brynnon. “It’s a bit smaller than I’d originally planned on, but I think it would be perfect for our first home.”
“Great!” Brynnon pulled a card from her skirt pocket. “Here’s my contact information. If you two decide you want to make an offer, just email it to me and I’ll get back with you as quickly as I can. But don’t wait too long. There was another couple here earlier who were planning to talk to the bank after they left. I’m expecting an offer from them, as well.”
The man looked back at his wife, who appeared nervous at the thought of losing the house to someone else. “We’ll be in touch shortly,” he assured them both. “Don’t worry.”
The wife’s shoulders relaxed, and though he couldn’t see her face, Grant heard the smile in Brynnon’s voice.
“Excellent. I look forward to hearing from you.”
After handshakes were exchanged and goodbyes were given, Brynnon shut the door behind the excited couple and leaned her back against it. Closing her eyes, she let out a loud exhale and gave herself a moment to recharge.
“That seemed to go well.”
She looked back at him and smiled. “It went really well.” Excitement lit up her eyes as she pushed herself off the door. “I’ve been doing this long enough to tell the looky-loos from the serious buyers. My gut says I’ll have at least two offers before bedtime.”
He gave her a nod of approval. “Nice.”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “It is.”
Placing her hands on her lower back, Brynnon arched her chest forward and moved her neck to one side and to other to stretch her tired muscles. Though the action was innocent in nature, it pushed her firm breasts forward tightening the thin silk covering them.
Grant had to fist his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out and taking what he had no business wanting. Luckily, she started to lower her arms before opening her eyes, giving him half a second to raise his gaze back up to her face, where it belonged.
When Brynnon looked back at him, however, he could’ve sworn she somehow knew what he’d been thinking. Or maybe she was thinking the same about him.
Maybe it doesn’t matter because even if you wanted to do something about it—which you don’t—you couldn’t, because she’s a fucking client.
“Are you hungry?”
The question was innocent, but Jesus. H. Christ. She had no idea what she was doing to him.
“Very.”
“Good. So am I.” She looked down at her watch. “I’d really like to make a quick trip to my cabin before we go home.” Her eyes shot to his. “I mean, to my home. To the condo.”
Her rambling was too fucking cute. “I know what you meant.”
“Right. Sorry.” She inhaled deeply before letting the air out slowly. “I always get wound up on open house days. So much is riding on them, you know? Or maybe you don’t know.”
“I get what you’re saying.” Something hit him, then. “Wait. What cabin?”
“Oh.” Her brows went up. “I guess I haven’t told you about that yet. I’m flipping a cabin in the woods. When it’s done, I’m going to sell the condo and live there.”
