No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Created with
Vellum

One

“
I
don’t like it
.”

“You haven’t even walked inside yet.”

“I still don’t like it.”

Eliot Kane ignored my petulance and hopped out of his truck, slamming the door shut and leaving me to decide if I wanted to be a cautionary tale about what happens when you leave a child – or a pouty adult – inside a closed vehicle when it’s sunny and warm.

I had a choice: I could dig my heels in and sweat to death in the truck or spend twenty minutes walking through a house I knew I would hate before vetoing it. I blew out a frustrated sigh and pushed open my door, finding Eliot leaning against the front of the truck when I shuffled in that direction. He didn’t look perturbed or surprised.

“I’m not going to like it,” I announced, opting to ignore the fact that he forced my hand and already won one battle today – which was more than he generally won in a week.

Eliot is blessed with infinite patience sometimes. I admire him for it. I don’t want to emulate him, mind you, but I admire the fact that he hasn’t yet lost his temper and murdered me in a fit of rage. I’m not oblivious to my faults. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he wanted to strangle me at least five times since we started dating (and another seven before that happened).

My name is Avery Shaw, and I’m officially a house hunter. I’m a newspaper reporter, too, but that’s on the backburner today. No, this sunny Sunday I’m house shopping with my boyfriend. We’re buying the house together. That’s adult, right? We’re being adult all over the place these days. It’s freaky.

Eliot is much better at being an adult than I am. I know that probably boggles the mind because I’m so mature and refined in my everyday life, but there it is. He seems to be handling house hunting much better than I am. To me it is overwhelming and frustrating. It’s also exciting. I don’t want to own up to that, though, so instead I pick a fight whenever my nerves get the better of me. He seems fine with that. No, really.

“Avery, we’ve talked about this,” Eliot said, holding up a finger to placate the real estate agent curiously eyeing us from the front porch. She was new. I’d already fired two others because they were too hot and kept flirting with Eliot. I could already tell this one would have to go, too. She continuously sent Eliot pitiable looks whenever she thought I wasn’t looking. She couldn’t understand what he was doing with me … and she also wore shirts with low necklines and kept bending over so he could assess her ample cleavage. He didn’t go out of his way to do it, but sometimes he couldn’t avoid it because she stepped right in front of him. Oh, she also has a voice like Minnie Mouse on uppers and I want to pour acid down her throat to silence her.

Wait, what were we talking about?

“You can’t decide if you like a house from the outside,” Eliot said, drawing me back to reality as he brushed his shoulder length brown hair from his face. “You need to see inside to know if you’re going to like it.”

“I don’t like it,” I repeated. “The color is gross.”

“It’s red brick.”

“And that’s gross.”

“You’re just … .” Eliot pressed his lips together and rolled his neck until it cracked, sucking in a deep breath as he adopted a soothing smile. “Can I ask you something?”

Oh, I hate this game. “Yes, I am the smartest and sexiest woman in the world.”

I could tell Eliot didn’t want to crack a smile but he couldn’t help himself. “Sometimes I think that’s true,” he said. “Other times I think you’re my own personal migraine machine.”

He said that like it was a bad thing. “Fine. Ask me your question.”

“Do you still want to move in together?”

The question caught me off guard. Was he changing his mind? “I … yes. You don’t, do you?”

“Avery, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to move in with you,” Eliot said. “My problem is that you’ve been a complete and total nightmare since we started looking at houses. It has only been two weeks and I already want to kill you.”

I could see that. “But … .”

“No.” Eliot wagged a finger in my face. “I love you, but you make me want to punch someone. It’s usually myself, even though I can’t figure out why.”

I knew why. He wanted to see if he could knock some sense into himself and end this potential cohabitation conundrum before it was too late and we closed on a house. “Eliot, I love you, too,” I said, plastering my prettiest smile on my face. “I’m just … excited.” Wait. Why did I just admit that? Crap. He’s going to think I’m such a girl.

Eliot’s expression softened. “I know you’re excited,” he said. “I’m excited, too. You still have to look inside to know if you don’t like it. I don’t think that’s asking too much.”

I blew out a dramatic sigh. “Fine.”

Eliot smiled and extended his hand. “Then let’s look inside.”

I linked my fingers with his, determined I wasn’t going to ruin the day before it really started. “I can’t wait.” That sounded sincere, right?

“You’re going to be a pain all day,” Eliot grumbled, jerking me toward the house. “I can already tell.”

I guess it didn’t sound nearly sincere enough.

“
I
DON’T
like it
.”

Hey, I’d kept my mouth shut for five torturous minutes. I couldn’t be expected to last one second longer. It was inhumane.

Eliot ignored me as he ran his hands over the kitchen countertops. “The granite is nice.”

The real estate agent, Barbara Harris, beamed at him. “It is very nice,” she agreed, bobbing her blond head. She’d taken to pretending I wasn’t in the room and fawning all over him the moment we stepped over the threshold. “You clearly have good taste, Mr. Kane.”

“Call me Eliot.”

Barbara’s smile widened to the point where I was almost certain she was the creepy clown from
It
in disguise. “Then you should call me Bunny. That’s my nickname.”

I froze at her admission. “Bunny?”

“Yes. My mother named me after my grandmother, but how stupid of a name is Barbara?”

She honestly thought Bunny was an improvement?

“I like the kitchen setup,” Eliot said, wetting his lips as he walked around. “We would have to replace all of the appliances. They’re outdated.”

“They are?” That was news to me. “They’re nicer than my appliances.”

“Yes, but that’s not saying much,” Eliot said. “If we put your appliances on the curb the garbage pickers would turn up their noses at them.”

I was fairly certain my refrigerator had just been insulted. “This kitchen is too big,” I challenged. “We’ll never be able to fill all of these cupboards.”

“You wouldn’t be able to fill them,” Eliot countered. “I happen to like cooking. I’m the only reason you don’t starve.”

That was a blatant lie. “I have a phone and takeout menus. I would never starve.”

“Shh.” Eliot pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s quiet time, Avery. Let me look.”

Did he just shush me? “I … .”

Eliot slapped his hand over my mouth and focused on Barbara, er Bunny. “What’s the homeowners association like?”

“They’re very strict,” Bunny replied. “They don’t let anything get by them.”

Was that a good thing? I jerked my head from Eliot’s hand and scorched him with a dark look. “Don’t do that again.”

“I just wanted to hug you,” Eliot said, blasé. “I think you should be happy that I love you so much I can’t stand not touching you.”

“I agree,” Bunny said. “I think most women would love being touched by you.”

“No one asked you,” I snapped, earning a warning glare from Eliot. “I don’t want a strict homeowners association. This house is out.”

“Oh, I think you’re confused,” Bunny said. “You want a strict homeowners association. They make sure all of the grass is cut to the proper length and no one puts tacky lawn decorations in the front yard.”

“Hey, I like tacky lawn ornaments,” I said. “I have, like, eight of them … and they’re all moving with us. They’re like children. We can’t just abandon them.”

“And yet you would abandon a child in a heartbeat,” Eliot said, winking. “Avery is right, though. We don’t want an overbearing homeowners association. The house is nice, but I’m not dealing with some little fiefdom or bored suburbanites who have nothing better to do than judge everyone else.”

“Yeah,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “That’s my job.”

Bunny made a face. “But … lawn ornaments are tacky.”

“I don’t care about her lawn ornaments,” Eliot said. “As long as no one is putting actual garbage on their lawns and attracting rats, I’m fine.”

“There aren’t rats in the suburbs,” Bunny said.

“Oh, don’t kid yourself, there are rats everywhere,” I corrected. “The rats out here are just fancier. They wear suits and ties.”

“No one dresses rats out here. Every homeowners association would have a problem with that.” Bunny was so serious I briefly considered smacking her in an effort to see if I could change her facial expression, but I didn’t think that would go over well.

“This probably isn’t the house for us,” Eliot said, reaching for my hand and pulling me closer. It was almost as if he could read my mind. “Do you have anything else to show us today?”

“No, but I should have more mid-week.” Bunny looked disappointed. “I thought you would love this house.”

“Well, it’s a nice house, but it’s just not for us,” Eliot said. “We need something more … .”

“Lawn ornament friendly,” I finished for him.

Bunny scowled. “Perhaps you should try looking at houses in the south end of the county.”

When Eliot suggested moving, I insisted on remaining in Macomb County, which is northeast of Detroit. I want to remain close to The Monitor, the newspaper where I work, and refuse to embrace a long commute. His pawnshop is in Mount Clemens, so we finally agreed on settling north of Hall Road but still in the county, and not too far from either of our workplaces. He wanted a quieter neighborhood. I wanted a pool. We hadn’t found anything that fit our needs yet.

“We’re still interested in this area,” Eliot said, refusing to engage in a disagreement. “We just want an unobtrusive homeowners association.”

“And I don’t like the red brick,” I added.

“What’s wrong with the brick?” Bunny asked, for the first time letting her annoyance show. “I think it’s beautiful.”

“I don’t like it,” I answered. “I don’t mind a more muted orangey brick, but bright red is out. It makes me unhappy.”

“And we can’t have that,” Eliot teased, pushing me toward the door. “Email me if you find other houses for us to look at, Bunny. We’ll figure a way to get to them as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” Bunny said, her tone chilly. “I still think you’re a making a mistake ruling this one out.”

“Well, it’s our mistake then,” Eliot said. “Avery is not going to be happy moving into an oppressive subdivision.”

“Well, then maybe you should find someone else to live with.” Bunny realized what she said too late to take it back. “I didn’t mean … .”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eliot said, practically shoving me through the door before I could say something nasty. “Find a different homeowners association and we’ll talk.”

Eliot exerted a lot of energy and managed to get me inside of his truck before I exploded.

“I don’t like her!”

Eliot forced a pleasant smile and waved at Bunny as she walked past his truck and toward her car, tilting his head to the side until she was safely out of earshot before responding. “You have to stop terrorizing real estate agents. We’re never going to find a house if you keep this up.”

I was affronted. “Me? Did you hear what she said?”

“She’s trying to sell an expensive house, Avery,” Eliot said. “Give her a break.”

“Her name is Bunny!”

“Yeah, well, that’s weird,” Eliot conceded.

“She’s also hot to trot for you,” I pointed out. “They’re all hot to trot for you. You must exert a musk that only skanky real estate agents can detect. There can be no other explanation.”

“It’s because I’m handsome.”

“Whatever.”

Eliot grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Most of these women think I’m a saint once they realize I put up with you. That’s very attractive to some people. They think I’m probably one of those magical romance novel boyfriends everyone wants. I’m like the rare unicorn or something. That’s how truly powerful and frightening your mouth is.”

“You suck,” I muttered, jerking away my hand as he grinned.

“Speaking of sucking … .” Eliot leaned forward and dug in the back pocket of his jeans, coming out with a stack of … something I couldn’t quite make out. “I was saving these to use as a bribe if you got out of control.”

I was intrigued, despite myself. “What are they?”

“I’m not sure you’ve earned them,” Eliot said, spreading out the cardboard stubs and using them to fan himself. They looked like tickets. “You were kind of mean to Bunny.”

“I can’t take anyone named Bunny seriously,” I argued, narrowing my eyes as I focused on the tickets. He was waving his hand too fast for me to read them. “We need a different real estate agent.”

“We’re sticking with her.”

“I don’t like her.”

“Do you like me?”

I jerked my eyes away from the tickets and locked gazes with him. He was ridiculously handsome and patient. I had no idea why he decided to love me. I was frustrating, annoying and mouthy. Another woman – any woman, really – would be easier to deal with.

“I like you,” I said. “I’m sorry if I’m being … .”

“Impossible?”

“I was going to say difficult,” I clarified. “I just … this is all new to me. I’m not used to having to consider someone else’s feelings when making a big decision like this. I’m doing the best I can.”

Eliot’s smile was small and earnest. “I know you are.” He handed me the tickets. “That’s why you get these.”

I flipped the tickets over and my eyes almost bugged out of my head when I realized what they were for. “These are for the Macomb County Comic Con.”

“They are.”

“There are going to be
Star Wars
people there.”

“There are.”

“And
Star Trek
.”

“Yup.”

“And
Game of Thrones
… and
The Walking Dead
… and
Lord of the Rings
… and
Harry Potter
… and
Dr. Who
… and … .”