Page 11 of Waiting for Acceptance (Nashville Nights #5)

FITZ

Sitting in the conference room back at Coleson, Lauren sits across from me with her eyes glued to the paper in front of her. She’s exhaling harder than that of a normal person who isn’t moving and every now and then I’ll see her pinch the inside of her arm.

“You seem particularly miserable this morning.”

She levels me with a glare. “Do I ever not seem particularly miserable to you?” I let out a hum then notice the scratches on her arm, barely catching myself before reaching out to touch her. I grab my pen from the middle of the table instead, giving my hands something safer to do.

“Get into a fight with your Christmas tree?” I muse.

“Hilarious, but no,” she says dryly. I stare at her blankly, waiting for an explanation. She lets out another hefty sigh and rolls her eyes, causing a new kind of tension to creep up my neck.

“I got a cat,” she mumbles and I truly can’t tell if she’s angry, embarrassed, or indifferent to the fact.

“Well then maybe don’t piss it off. Those look painful.”

“Yeah, well, the bitch scratched up my couch, pissed on my favorite blanket, and chewed through the strap of my favorite heels, so I don’t really care if I pissed her off.

She pissed me off first.” A smile makes its way across my face, watching in amusement as she gets so worked up over what I thought was considered one of the most low-maintenance pets to have.

“So glad my pain is funny to you. Can we get started now?”

“Whatever you want, Sweetheart.” I watch her small jaw tighten at my words. “Now, before we go over the files I asked you to gather, I closed on the townhouse with the Johnsons.” I pull the paperwork out and slide it across to her. “We made some?—”

“You what? ” The anger in her voice is palpable but her features remain as calm and collected as ever. It makes me want to push her buttons until I get an actual reaction from her. See how long it takes before she actually breaks.

“Closed on the townhome with the Johnsons. Has your morning coffee not kicked in yet? Pay attention.” Her cheeks turn a deep shade of red but she still doesn’t react.

“They wanted to close over the holidays and no one else around here takes calls during the break so I made myself available to them. They took the opportunity to have me help them close before the new year.”

“You had no right to do that, and without so much as telling me first? Just who the hell do you think you are?” I almost have the mind to tell her exactly who I am, but I somehow refrain.

“I thought you were eager to get them into their new home as soon as possible. How did you put it? You wanted her to be able to pick out paint colors before she had the baby? It looked like they would need to move quickly if that was going to happen.”

“We’re done here.” She slams her notebook shut and storms out of the room.

Oh Trouble, we’re far from done.

I stand and swiftly follow her all the way to her office.

Just as she’s about to slam the door in my face I slide inside behind her.

She spins to face me after the door latches and I take the opportunity to back her into it, placing my hands on either side of her head.

She tilts her head up, eyes flaring with anger.

“We’re done when I say we’re done.”

“Jack and Barbara may have hired you, for God only knows what reason, but I don’t take instructions from other agents.”

“I’m not just any other agent, Sweetheart.”

“ Stop calling me that,” she hisses.

“Now, if you’re done with your little tantrum. We have houses to show today.”

“ We? ” Her eyebrows jump up in surprise.

“Yes, we. ” I let my eyes roam over her face, taking in every angry feature.

“Why? I’ve never shown houses with another agent. That makes no sense.”

“Get your things; we leave in ten minutes. We’ll take my car.” I pull away from her and she crosses her arms over her chest, still not moving from in front of the door.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she pouts.

“That was intentional.” I smirk and she rolls her eyes.

“I’ll take my own car.” I take a step towards her again, taking to memory the way her breath catches when I invade her space. I bring my lips close to her ear and watch her chest rise and fall more heavily.

“No, you won’t. Nine minutes, Sweetheart. I will leave you here if you’re not ready.” Then I reach around her, causing her to gasp when I brush against her waist, and turn the doorknob to leave.

“Unless you want this visit to turn into one that will be considered highly unprofessional, I suggest you let me out now.” Her cheeks heat and she takes a step to the right, allowing me enough space to leave her office.

I head back to the conference room to grab my things, fighting to lose the hard-on I now have, that I’m hoping she didn’t notice.

Hell, what do I care if she did? Maybe she’d do something about it and I could finally move on—get her out of my system. Is it possible that night wasn’t everything I’ve made it out to be? I mean, if she doesn’t even remember it, maybe I have a skewed memory of what happened between us.

It may be time to remind my little troublemaker of who I am.

Eight minutes later she’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest by the passenger door of my car. Obedient little thing. I walk over to her side and her face morphs into extreme confusion.

“What’s the matter, Sweetheart, never had someone open the door for you?” I pull the handle and she stares blankly inside the car for a moment then looks up at me.

“No, I haven’t.” The sadness that flashes in her eyes is masked quickly by the ever-present irritation she feels when she’s around me, but I still see it, and fuck if it doesn’t make me angry. I close the door behind her and walk around to my side.

I let her take the lead during the showings, taking notes as she does her thing.

I can tell she doesn’t want me here, but the moments she glances over at me with a look of discomfort vanish as soon as she turns back to her client.

She’s a professional through and through.

She doesn’t push people to choose a certain home, she doesn’t hype up the higher priced listing more than the lower priced ones just to try and make a bigger commission, she gives them all the information they need then backs off but is around to answer questions without hovering and gives what I assume to be her honest opinion when they ask for her thoughts.

I’ve never seen someone sell like she does.

I can’t seem to look away when she talks.

I find myself pulling out my phone to check emails just to keep myself from getting caught.

The last thing I need is for her to notice me staring at her and make some smart-ass remark about it.

When we get back in the car I turn her seat warmer on before relaxing my head onto the headrest and letting out a sigh.

“Before you begin your critique can I at least get some food in my system first?” My brows pull together at her remark.

“Excuse me?” There she goes, rolling those damn eyes again.

“You literally did not stop watching me during every showing we had today, then during this last one you were suddenly typing away on your phone.”

“So?”

“ So, I’m sure whatever I did to lose your attention or disappoint you or whatever, is going to come up. I’d just rather not deal with the criticism on an empty stomach.”

“Food first. Criticism after. Got it.” She glares at me and shakes her head, turning to face out the window before mumbling something I can’t quite hear.