“Everybody does it,” Matt insisted.
“No, they don’t.” Mia’s frustration wasn’t lost on Providence.
Dakota entered the ballroom and made his way to the front of the room. He couldn’t move five feet before someone stopped him to say hello. The man was striking from any angle and Providence found herself craning her neck to stay connected to him. As she glanced around, she wasn’t the only one tracking him. His energy rolled off him like turbulent waves crashing against the rocky shoreline.
Once at the podium, he turned on the mic. His relaxed smile sent another blast of heat through her.
“Wow.” Mia leaned toward Providence. “Is it me or is that man absolutely beautiful?”
Beautiful. So beautiful.“He’s handsome.”
Mia’s mouth dropped. “I would give my right arm to work at Goode-Luck.”
Providence chuckled. “Again, that’s a little over-the-top for me. I’ll admit he’s a head turner, but, he could also be a first-class jerk or super-high maintenance.”
“He and his partner have the best reputation in the business. He’s won more real estate awards and accolades than most of us in this room combined. He might be high maintenance, but I’d be happy to be the one maintaining him.”
“I was married to high maintenance and I can speak from experience,” Providence said. “No one is worth the aggravation that comes with a pretty face and a boatload of heartache.”
“You’re pretty cool, Elaine.” Mia tossed her long cornrows off her shoulder. “You must make one kick-ass realtor.”
That made Providence smile. “I do okay.”
“Good evening and welcome to the Larke, Goode-Luck annual awards banquet. I’m Dakota Luck.” With his signature, sexy-as-hell smile, he paused while attendees hollered and applauded.
As he laid out the evening’s agenda—from dinner to awards—Providence studied him. Was it possible he was leading a double life? Realtor by day, vigilante at night? She’d met cold-blooded killers who had families, full-time jobs, and appeared to be model citizens. Could Dakota be one of them?
During the meal, Matt talked as much as he drank. By the time the awards ceremony began, Matt’s mask was on the floor, his eyes were glazed over, and he was hitting on Mia, big time.
Dakota announced the categories and nominees, and Juanita announced the winner. One by one, people made their way to the front of the room to receive their awards and offer their thanks.
“Our final award is for the coveted Realtor of the Year,” Dakota said into the mic. He read the list of nominees and stepped away from the mic so Juanita could announce the winner.
After a pregnant pause, Juanita said, “This year’s winner is Larke Realty’s Mia Jefferson.”
“Congratulations,” Providence said as Mia—looking somewhat stunned—headed toward the front of the ballroom.
“That’s my damn award,” Matt blurted. “I sold more houses than she did.” He pushed out of the chair and half-walked, half-staggered toward the front of the room.
Oh, boy. This won’t be pretty.
Mia accepted the award from Juanita, but instead of shaking Dakota’s hand, she hugged him. Providence smiled. Mia hadn’t won by being passive or subtle. Providence admired a woman who went after what she wanted.
Matt stumbled onto the stage, grabbed the mic, and stood swaying in front of the podium. “Helloooooo, people. I’m Matt Hastings with Goode-Luck. Well, I was, but I got fired.” He glared at Dakota and Juanita.
The room grew pin-drop silent. Dozens of guests lifted their phones to record whatever crap was about to fly out of Matt’s mouth next.
“I would stop now.” Juanita gestured for him to step away from the podium.
“I got accused of taking kickbacks.” Matt leaned against the podium to keep from swaying. “Hey, guys, newsflash. Everybody takes kickbacks from someone. That’s the biz, baby.”
“Dude,” someone shouted. “Sit down.”
“All you fuckers out there are doing the same damn thing,” Matt blasted into the mic.
“I’m not,” a realtor called out.
“You’re drunk,” an attendee yelled. “I’d shut up if I were you.”
