He took a step back from her and looked both ways down the hallway, seeming to care about what the other tenants might overhear for the first time since their conversation started. He cleared his throat and reached into his back pocket to pull out a handkerchief, using it to mop the gathering perspiration on his balding head.
“Fine,” he huffed. “You have until the end of the week.” Her relief was short-lived as he added, “But if next month’s rent is even one day late, you’re out of here, Ms. Wagner.”
She gave him a brisk nod, then stepped inside and closed her door harder than she probably should have. Figuring there was no way their conversation hadn’t woken Callan, she gave herself a little mental pep talk, lifted her chin, and turned to face him.
He was fully dressed and standing in the bedroom doorway. At least she wouldn’t have to do much prodding to get him out of her apartment, she mused as she flashed him a smile.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” she said with deliberate cheer. “Sorry about that. The landlord’s a complete dick.”
Please don’t comment on the rent thing. Please don’t comment on the rent thing.
The thought ran through her mind on repeat as he moved into the family room and shoved his hands into his pockets. His body language reflected obvious discomfort. It amplified her fear that he would comment on the rent thing or—even worse—offer to give her money.
Anything but that.
“Can I interest you in a mediocre cup of coffee or a Pop-Tart before you go?” she asked.
His mouth opened as though he was going to reply, then closed as he fully processed the question. “A Pop-Tart?”
“I’ve got strawberry and blueberry,” she said, walking over to one of her cabinets and pulling down the boxes. “They were buy one, get one free. Happy day.”
“Ah. Sure, I guess. Strawberry works.”
His continued air of uncertainty made her highly uncomfortable. She nearly blurted out that she was expecting a commission payment to cover the rent. Her deep-seated need to demonstrate that she really could do this job and support herself had nothing to do with Callan, though.
“Toasted or cold?” she asked.
“Which do you prefer?”
She turned when she realized his voice had gotten closer. He was now sitting at the counter in the seat beside her temporary workstation, his gaze on her.
“Depends on how much of a hurry I’m in,” she said.
“Ah. Well, I do have to get to a meeting.”
Even better, she told herself. A built-in reason for him to get going.
“Cold it is.”
She tore open the pack of strawberry Pop-Tarts and handed him one, then reached into the cabinet for a couple of plastic cups. As she filled them with ice water, she watched him give the Pop-Tart a considering look and hold it up to sniff it.
“Wait a minute. Have you never had a Pop-Tart before?”
“Nope,” he said, and took a big bite of the one in his hand.
“How is that possible?” she asked as she placed a cup in front of him and set hers on the counter. “These were a staple in my house when I was a kid.”
He shrugged. “My parents weren’t into junk food. All natural and organic shit.” He gave the Pop-Tart a look of approval. “While I can understand why they didn’t want me eating this as a kid, it’s pretty good.”
Her mouth curved. She broke off a piece of her own Pop-Tart and stuffed it into her mouth so she didn’t start rambling.
“Thanks for letting me crash here last night,” he said.
“Sure,” she said after swallowing the bite. “I hope you’re feeling rested.”
“Yeah. I haven’t been sleeping well since…”
When he trailed off, she said, “I understand.”
Their eyes met. She saw the lingering pain he bore in his heart, but the dark smudges were gone. She would take what small victories she could get, she thought as she broke off another piece of her Pop-Tart.
“So,” he began in a tone that made her spine stiffen. “This is going to be incredibly awkward timing for me to bring this up, but since I passed out before having this conversation with you last night, there’s really no other choice but to just put this out there.”
Shit. He was going to offer her money, wasn’t he? Why had she shoved so much Pop-Tart into her mouth right before he started talking?
“I’ve been thinking of getting a house in the city,” he continued, “and I was wondering if you would be open to helping me find the perfect one.”
She paused in mid-chew. He wasn’t offering her money. Well, not directly.
He was offering her a job.
Should she be suspicious? She considered that as she finished the bite of Pop-Tart. Maybe. But maybe he really had been planning on bringing this up to her last night. The awkwardness of the timing after her rather mortifying conversation with her landlord would explain why he looked so uneasy when she turned to find him standing there.
Still, she wasn’t sure it would be wise to build more of a connection with him. First an unintentional overnight and now partnering with him in a role that would have them getting together frequently? It all screamed “get the hell out while you can” to her.
But, damn…the money.
“What are you in now?” she asked.
“A condo.” He polished off his last bite of Pop-Tart with a long drink of water before continuing, “It’s a nice place but it’s a rental.”
“Isn’t renting more ideal for a professional hockey player with all the moving around you guys do?”
His eyebrows lifted. Okay, so she might have done some research on it. She was just naturally curious about a topic she knew little about, that was all. If she happened to know he had played for five different teams over the past eight years, that didn’t exactly signify anything.
Thankfully, he didn’t comment on it. “Typically, yes. Players—especially newer players who are trying to make a name for themselves—can have high turnover between teams. Even someone like me with eight years at the pro level isn’t safe from a mid-season trade.” He shrugged as if to say it was just part of the business. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be playing for Atlanta, but it’s a great city. One of my goals this season is to become a pivotal part of The Siege’s lineup. I want to help make this team everything it’s striving to be, and I hope to be here for a long while. I figure finding a place to call my own is a great start.”
She wasn’t sure she completely bought all of that. Even with most real estate being a good investment, it seemed to her that renting made more sense for someone who might end up traded to another city at any time.
But the idea of a potential commission in the near future made his offer hard to pass up.
“Are you sure you’re not just asking me to help you so you can spend more time with me?” she asked at last.
He grinned. “That sure is a nice side benefit.”
If he had denied it, she probably would have walked away. But the touch of honesty won her over.
“Okay,” she relented. “I’ll need to send you a buyer’s agent agreement for you to review and sign.”
He rose and walked around the counter to put his cup in the sink. “No problem. Why don’t I give you my contact info before I head to my meeting?”