“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Callan asked as they approached Roxy’s car.
“I’m more familiar with the city and I’ve programmed all of the addresses into my car’s GPS,” she said as she unlocked her doors. “Yes, it has GPS,” she added before he could question it.
How did she do that?
“Fine.”
He lowered himself into the passenger seat and was relieved to find it was spacious enough that his knees didn’t touch the dashboard when he maneuvered the seat all the way back. Then he watched Roxy as she slid into her seat, enjoying the way her skirt rode up to reveal several inches of her thigh. He vividly remembered the soft feel of that thigh against his hand when he—
Stop it, he told himself as he realized he was getting hard over the memory. Fuck.
It was far from the first time that afternoon his brain tried to remind him of his night with her. Just the thought of being alone with her in his apartment had been enough to get the train rolling. Seeing her in her sexy red real estate agent suit with its stylish gold trimmed lapels and its hip-hugging skirt gave the engine some steam. And breathing in her alluring scent sent the train barreling down the tracks.
He had done his best to keep some distance between them in his condo, knowing if he didn’t that he’d end up doing something stupid like kissing her tempting red lips. He allowed himself one touch, a single hand against her back to guide her into his condo, and even that had been enough for things to spring to life in his pants.
Get your damn self under control.
“Where are we headed first?” he asked as she backed out of the visitor parking spot and headed for the garage exit.
“I figured we’d start in Paces since it’s the farthest away. I wasn’t sure if you wanted a yard or not, so I pulled a house and townhouse in that area.”
He started to respond as she reached the garage exit.
Then he just held on for dear life.
She peeled out of the garage like a drag racer punching it off the starting line, pulling a left-hand turn across four lanes of traffic and narrowly escaping getting T-boned by a Ford F-150. Callan made eye contact with the Ford’s driver as they passed. It was a toss-up which one of them looked more surprised.
Once she was headed in the right direction, Roxy started weaving in and out traffic, merging between vehicles with inches to spare. They approached an intersection where the traffic ahead of them was slowing down.
“Uh, the light’s yellow,” he said.
Huh. Who knew his voice could squeak like that?
“Barely.”
She gunned it, swerving wildly around a Mazda Miata and cutting off a fully stopped Jeep Wrangler who blared their horn at them as they swept through the (very) yellow light. Callan’s heart made a leaping grab for his throat as they continued careening through traffic along West Paces Ferry.
He darted a glance over his shoulder out the back window, whipped his head back around to check out the windshield, and then looked again over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m keeping an eye our tail since we’re clearly on the run from the law.”
She laughed. “Oh, relax. This is nothing. Try driving a rally car on loose gravel during a rainstorm in Wales.”
He gaped at her. “Have you…?”
Her lips curved.
“Of course you have,” he said.
She was hands-down the coolest person he’d ever met. That didn’t mean he wasn’t issuing prayers to any spiritual being who would listen that he’d make it out of the car alive.
What should have been a fifteen-minute drive took Roxy ten. Callan felt like he needed those extra five minutes to find the strength to stand since he was sure his knees were going to give out on him, but he climbed out of her car at the first listing since Roxy got out and stared at him until he did.
“I really had hoped I’d go back in time if I ever went that fast,” he mused as they walked up to the brick townhome bearing a lockbox on the front door.
She gave him the side-eye as she entered a code into the lockbox. “You drive an Audi and you’ve never opened her up?”
“Well, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” He sought the right words and went with, “I’m normal.”
“Sounds rather boring to me.”
“Maybe, but if my agent heard I was in a car with someone who drives like you, he’d drop dead of a heart attack.”
Her lips twitched with humor. “Well, we’re here now. Let’s focus on the listing.”
“Okay.”
She motioned towards the door handle. “While it’s a little unconventional, I believe the potential homeowner should be the one to open the front door and go inside first. That first feeling you get when you step into a new place is one of the most important things to consider when homebuying.”
He nodded and opened the door. He paid attention to his first impression as he stepped inside and paused in the foyer. Then he got distracted when Roxy followed him in and brushed against him, making him itch to touch her.
“First thoughts?” she asked.
He stuck his hands in his pockets so he didn’t give into his urge. “It’s very white.”
The two-story foyer was open and airy. To the right was a grand dining room with a crystal chandelier. To the left was what appeared to be a formal living room. Ahead was a hall leading towards what he thought was the kitchen and family room.
Every single wall was white.
“Paint is an inexpensive update,” she said. “But it tells me something that you noticed the white walls first rather than the layout or these beautiful hardwood floors. Let’s go ahead and do a walk-through anyway. It will help us narrow down what you like and don’t like in a property.”
“Works for me.”
They completed their tour of the townhouse, where he decided he liked the hardwood floors, the custom built-ins in the study and family room, the crown molding throughout the home, and the fact that it backed up to the Chattahoochee National Forest. He didn’t like the lack of character, the layout, or the outdated bathrooms.
The house—or, rather, estate—they visited next was quite impressive from the outside. It had a gated, winding driveway and sat on over two acres of property. The white brick home seemed to go on forever in both directions.
As with the townhome, Roxy had Callan enter first. He stepped inside and took in the wide, curving staircase leading up to an expansive second level, the wood-paneled study with its massive fireplace to his left, and the impressive library to the right. Directly ahead down a short hallway was a well-lit family room that looked nearly as large as his existing condo.
“What did you feel when you first stepped inside?” Roxy asked.
“Lonely.”
The word just popped out. He supposed it sounded rather sad. But he couldn’t imagine rattling around in this place by himself.
“All right,” she said with no trace of judgment. “I’ll look for listings on a smaller scale. Let’s see what you think about the rest of it.”
They went through the remaining listings just like that. Much as Roxy suspected, none of them were quite what he wanted.
Strangely, although he hadn’t been planning on buying a new home until a few days ago, he found himself getting into the spirit of it. Roxy made it interesting, her death-defying driving aside. She really knew her stuff, he realized. She helped him narrow down what most interested him in a long-term home and made him think of things he hadn’t considered.