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Chapter 8

Cass

My body and brain are conditioned for combat

whenever I’m in his immediate radius.

~Sally Thorne, The Hating Game

Coleman returns alone from his house tour with Marcus. He’s all smiles.

“He loved the place. I think he might even put in an offer.”

“Where’d you tour?” I ask almost offhandedly.

The idea of Marcus Delaney buying a house in Waterford—any house—feels like losing a property in Monopoly. Somehow or other, I’m going to end up paying rent on that square. I don’t want him anywhere near my game board.

“Seventeen Cherry Hill,” Coleman says, spinning the keys on his pointer finger, tossing them in the air and catching them.

My head snaps up and my eyes go wide.

My house?

My dream house.

The house I’ve wanted since I was a little girl? Marcus Delaney wants Cherry Hill?

Park Place. He just landed on Park Place.

And he’s going to buy it. The best property on the board.

“He can’t have it.” My voice is firm as if I have final say.

Coleman laughs good-naturedly. “Of course he can. He’s even talking about buying it cash on the barrel. No credit checks, nothing. The sellers need to hold on to it through at least December, maybe even January. That’s when they’ll relocate to Charlotte.”

I’m barely processing the words coming out of Coleman’s mouth. Marcus Delaney is buying Cherry Hill.

My head is swimming when the front door pops open.

Marcus steps in, his eyes crinkled in a smile that would be stunning on another man. If that face belonged to any other person, it would be irresistible when he smiled.

“Here you go, Coleman,” he says, his warm-honey-on-a-sun-kissed-peach voice sounding as if Coleman and he have been friends since childhood. He hands over a Thunder ball cap and what look like tickets.

“Man, oh man!” Coleman shouts. “Thanks, Marcus.”

“No problem. My family can’t come up for most of the games. Might as well make use of the tickets.”

Coleman beams, popping the Thunder ball cap on his head and smiling at Marcus.

It’s a sweet gesture, one that might even impact my opinion of him a little if my mind weren’t repeating a phrase like a drum beat: He’s buying Cherry Hill. Cherry Hill. Cherry Hill.

“I uh …” my voice cracks. “... don’t know if Cherry Hill is actually for sale the way you think it is. The sellers … they may want someone who’s staying in town full-time. They’re pretty meticulous about the care of that house.”

Coleman shoots me a stupified look. Rightfully so. This is his commission. And it’s practically in the bag. Who doesn’t want to sell to someone who can buy their house outright?

“No. No. That’s not right.” He turns back to Marcus. “It’s for sale. I just went through it this morning with Blaire to talk about staging for an open house. The sellers are planning a move early winter.”

“I’ll want to tour it again in a few days,” Marcus says to Coleman. “If you can hold off on an open house?”