Page 113 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

“I hate to say it, but I think that’s the right thing to do,” she said. “For now. Let him sit and stew for a bit.”

I laughed, my eyes going back to my email. “Oh, I got a request for a showing!”

“There you go.” She laughed. “Just keep on trucking.”

I clicked open the email from the client. “They want to see the old McCready house this afternoon.”

Alexis smirked. “Look at you, all business.”

I picked up my phone, dialing before I could second-guess myself. The owner answered on the third ring. As I scheduled the appointment, something settled inside me. This was it. No more looking back.

I was all in.

“Yes, I get to see it today,” I said, hanging up the phone. “I can’t wait to see it. Do you remember that girl, Dana? She had a birthday party there when we were in third grade.”

“I remember,” Alexis said. “That house has gone off and on the market over the last ten years. I think it’s haunted.”

I laughed. “It is not.”

“Okay, I’m going to work. I just wanted to check in. I’ll talk to you later.”

I forced myself to stay busy until it was time to head to the appointment. The McCready house was everything I loved—wide-plank floors, original moldings, a wraparound porch that begged for rocking chairs. My client showed up and I slipped right into realtor mode.

The tour was effortless. I pointed out features and did my best to sell the place, but deep down, I wished it was me that was buying it. I could see myself having morning coffee in the breakfast nook and where I would put my couch.

I ran a hand along the farmhouse sink. “Houses like this have soul. You can’t replicate that.”

The client looked around and I could already tell they weren’t feeling it. Old houses weren’t for everyone.