by Hayes, Lane
She rolled her eyes dramatically. “He’s my uncle…first and foremost. I’d be offended if he treated me any other way. But if anyone else puts candy in my pocket, his name better be John Stamos. Am I right?”
I let out a huff of amusement before opening the file. “What’s this?”
“The updated Stockton file. All the preliminary condo renderings are online too, of course, but I thought you’d want to see the fliers. They’ll showcase these in the reception areas and in various periodicals.”
“What about our web presence?”
“We’re building the spec now, so you can present it in the next few days. The final renderings will come later, but we can use these for now.” She pulled out one of the photos and motioned her hand over it theatrically. “Kostas will have the first website up and running. That’ll show Stockton we’re eager and ready for action.”
“Or desperate,” I supplied sarcastically.
“Don’t be a downer. You got this, Grant. I know your dad has a way of making it sound like his name brings in the business, but we all know it’s your hard work. I’m proud of you, Baby Cuz. We all are.”
I leaned back in my office chair and smiled. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. We need to go over the new listings from over the weekend. We sold four multimillion properties and listed another six.”
“That’s great! Take a seat and we can—”
“Hold up. Before we get started, let’s talk about…things.” She cocked her head and gave me that knowing, badass mom look that made me squirm in my seat. This was definitely the downside to running a family business. One minute you were top of the heap and the next, your older cousin was reminding you she changed your diapers thirty-three years ago.
“What kind of things?” I asked, obviously stalling.
Talia arched her perfect eyebrows before lowering herself onto one of the modern leather guest chairs across from me. “Don’t play dumb. Let’s throw it all out there, then we can put it away again and go about our business. Sound good?”
“Sure, Mom. What d’ya got?”
“A man for you. His name is Jake Papadopoulos and—”
“Really? Papadopoulos?” I threw my head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, willing my good mood to beat back the wave of instant irritation.
“He’s a doctor. Six foot three, good-looking…I’m talking Dr. McDreamy handsome and best of all—”
“He’s Greek,” I finished.
“I was going to say single and interested. I gave him your number.”
“Of course you did. Thanks. I should get going. I have a meeting to prepare for,” I said dismissively. When she didn’t budge, I pointed at the door meaningfully.
“Can I offer you a word of advice?” She waited for me to look at her before she continued. “Stop taking everything so seriously. If I remember correctly, and I might not because I’ve been married to the same man for twenty years…dating can be fun. Let the doctor wine and dine you. Maybe you’ll hit it off. But if you don’t, I’ll find someone else.”
“I’m not interested, Tal.”
“Why not?” She scooted forward until she was sitting at the edge of the chair and then set her elbows on my desk and gave me a thorough once-over. “You met someone.”
“What? No.” I shook my head as I stood. I was about to move to the door to usher her along, but I stopped in my tracks when she spoke again.
“It’s the Ding Dong kid, isn’t it?”
“How do you know about the Ding Dongs?”
“I know everything, dummy! I saw the bag, I peeked inside, and yuck…there they were. He obviously doesn’t know you don’t eat that shit, which means he doesn’t know you very well, and a couple of dates with Dr. P won’t hurt anyone.”
“You said one,” I countered.
Talia grinned. “Two.”
“One.” I let out a half chuckle at her whoop of victory. “But after that, you have to back off. And tell my parents whatever you need to, so they back off too. Deal or no deal?”
She glanced down at my outstretched hand and grimaced. “It’s going to take more than one date. It always does. Jake is sizzling hot, but there’s more to attraction than looks and I don’t think I know your type so—”
“One date,” I repeated.
“Okay, Boss. By the way, Eric called. He said he tried your cell, but you didn’t pick up. Then he said he might as well talk to me since I was the one who probably handled relocations. Are we still doing those? We have a lot in our pipeline right now and when we get that contract, we’ll be bombarded. I told him I’d talk to you first. If you’re going to help him and I know you will, just let me know who you want on it.”
“Uh yeah…okay. I’ll call him back. Thanks.” I pursed my lips and shot her a goofy grin she returned with a suspicious frown before heading toward her desk.
I shut the door behind her and juggled my phone from my pocket as the first wave of panic hit me. I stared at the screen and froze. Who should I call first? Eric or Miles? Eeny, meanie, miney…Send.
“EN Tech. You’ve reached Eric Schuster’s office. This is Miles speaking. How may help you?”
“We have a problem.”
“Excuse me?”
Deep breaths, I cautioned myself as I sat behind my desk. I was heading for a tailspin. If I didn’t speak slowly and gather my thoughts, I’d have a difficult time communicating. I swallowed hard and made an effort to modulate my voice to something casual.
“Hi Miles. This is Grant.” Much better.
“Hello, lover boy! How are you this morning? You’re missing me already, aren’t you?” he singsonged.
“What are you doing? You can’t call me that,” I hissed, jumping to my feet and then moving to the window.
He let out an amused half chuckle, obviously unimpressed with my reprimand. “Why ever not? I always make up names for you. If I suddenly stopped, it would seem odd.”
I frowned as I splayed my hand on the glass and stared down at the pedestrians below. That was true. He called all of Eric’s best friends anything from “pumpkin” to “sweetheart” to “lover boy,” but not all the time. Sometimes he was deferential and super polite. I wondered if he did it on purpose to keep us on our toes. Or maybe I was the only one he messed with consistently. I couldn’t tell anymore. Either way, he was acting normal. I was the weird one.
I shoved my free hand into my pocket to keep myself from raking it through my hair and tried again. “Fine, just listen. Eric called my office and spoke to Talia about finding an apartment for you. Not good.”
Miles snickered. “Wow. News travels fast. I fail to see a problem with—”
“The problem is, Talia suspects you’re the reason my dad wants her to set me up with Jake Papadopoulos. Don’t you get it?”
Silence.
“No,” he said before bursting into a fresh round of giggles. “Papa-say what?”
“This isn’t funny. If she talks to Eric, she’ll put it together and then Eric will know you were at my office because—”
“Grant, calm down.”
“And why do you want to live in the city anyway? You should stay where you are.”
“You’re unraveling, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I admitted, sucking in more air. “I can’t explain anything worth a damn when I’m nervous, and everything is making me edgy right now. You, Talia, my dad. I don’t want to lie to Eric. Maybe we should just tell him about that weekend and—”
“No! I mean—I’m sorry. If you feel like you have to tell him…fine, but I think you’re overreacting. I didn’t ask him to talk to you about finding me an apartment. I honestly didn’t think that was something your firm did.”
“We don’t, but I’d make an exception for a friend, and Eric knows that. I’m happy to help you. I just don’t want Talia in on this. She’s too damn smart.”
“I’ll tell Eric to forget it. Stop freaking out.”
“You can’t tell him that
. He’d think it was weird if I said I didn’t at least assign you to someone. But everything in this office goes through Talia first so…I’ll do it,” I said, letting out a deep breath.
“Oookaay…” Miles drew the word out like he was holding a note at the end of a song. I wanted to laugh, but I wasn’t quite sure anything was particularly funny at the moment.
“How soon do you want to move?”
“Tomorrow,” he answered quickly.
I frowned, pulling the phone from my ear to stare at the screen as though that might help me read him. It didn’t. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Oh, my God. I just rolled my eyes so hard I think I strained a muscle. Of course, I’m kidding! Your sense of humor has taken a serious hit lately,” Miles huffed derisively.
“I know. I’m sorry.” I pushed my hand through my hair. “What area are you considering? How many bedrooms and bathrooms do you want? New or old or—”
“Slow down, honey. I feel like we’re speed dating, and I can’t keep up. Those types of questions require careful consideration. And…” He lowered his voice before continuing. “I’m out of time. Eric has an important meeting in ten minutes. I’ll give this some thought and forward my basic ‘must-have’ list. Then perhaps you can point me in the right direction.”
“No, it’ll be easier if I show you a couple of properties myself. Are you free Saturday?”
He let out a low, sultry-sounding chuckle. “Mmm. So you are asking me on a date.”
“Miles.”
“Okay, fine. Yes, I can make myself available after noon. Text me details. Ciao!”
Miles hung up before I could respond. It was just as well. I needed to get back to work too and if possible, push the static in my mind aside. I had nothing substantial to worry about. My parents were in Toronto, our biggest business deal to date was under control, and a blind date with a doctor might actually be nice. But I couldn’t figure out where Miles fit in all this. He was an entertaining albeit peripheral acquaintance in my life who wasn’t destined for a starring role. Ever. However, I couldn’t deny that the thought of just seeing him again made my heart race. Not good. Maybe I was the crazy one.
* * *
Thankfully, I’d regained my composure and had a decent grasp of my priorities by the time the weekend rolled around. Spending a couple of hours on a Saturday afternoon with Miles fell firmly in the “helping out a friend” category. It was imperative to find something he liked right away and ideally, as far from my street as possible. I’d hoped to find something in another section of town altogether, but the only thing he’d been adamant about was location. Of course he also had strong opinions about age, amenities, and curb appeal. His text message mega wish list went as follows:
Character is welcome. Leaning floors and low ceilings are not. Appliances should be from the twenty-first century. A bay window would be lovely but isn’t necessary. However, no pink or purple exteriors please. I don’t want a My Little Pony pad. I outgrew that phase when I hit my teens. Barely. Oh, and one last requirement. It MUST be in the Castro.
Yeah. All caps. I sighed as I adjusted my sunglasses then glanced at the daunting set of steps leading to the first house on our list. It was a third-floor unit that the owner claimed had ample natural lighting, charm, and high ceilings. The exterior was a dull gray with off-white trim. A couple of overgrown straggly-looking plants in chipped pots sat on the top stair like sentries. I hoped the interior lived up to the high rent. This place was ridiculously expensive. If it sucked, I’d push location. The giant rainbow flag at the corner of Castro and Market was visible from his potential new residence. No doubt Miles would get a kick out of that.
If he didn’t, I had a couple of other options lined up. Surely something would appeal to him. Then I could put this episode behind me with a clear conscience and concentrate on getting my life in order and—
“Yoo-hoo!”
I turned to greet Miles and almost fell flat on my ass when he rushed forward with his arms outstretched like he was going to hug me. He halted abruptly and held his hands up in surrender instead. There was a comedic quality to his jerky movement like he was laughing at himself before I could beat him to it.
“How’s it go—” I froze midsentence when I met his gaze.
Fuck, he was…stunning. But I couldn’t say why I thought so. He wore nondescript weekend duds. Designer jeans and a black mock neck turtleneck sweater. The rolled cuffs and red loafers might garner a second glance elsewhere, but not in the Castro. It took a lot more than a colorful pair of shoes to stand out among the drag queens, fashionista twinks, and leather daddies. It might not be his wardrobe, but there was something in the way he carried himself and the proud tilt of his scruffy chin that set him apart. He exuded a manic energy I’d associated with someone who habitually ran late.
But Miles was never late. He was always on time, organized, in control, and seemingly ready to conquer the world. I’d witnessed the crack in his armor, though, and I was beginning to think that glimpse of realness was what made him impossible to ignore.
I cleared my throat then tried again. “How are you?”
Miles’s grin widened, giving his eyes a mischievous glint. “I’m well. Thank you for inquiring.”
“This is kind of weird, isn’t it? I probably should have asked one of my cousins to help you out. I panicked and—”
“I know. It’s okay. I won’t bite, and I won’t get any ideas that this was all a ruse to get me to yourself again.”
The obvious humor in his tone invited me to go with the flow and if possible, set aside any lingering weirdness from our recent encounters. If he could do it, I could do it, I mused. I straightened my shoulders and hooked my thumb toward the house behind me.
“Ready to look at your new dream home in the city?”
Miles hefted his large canvas tote bag higher on his shoulder then lifted his hand to shade his eyes as he peered up at the old Victorian. “Hmm. I know it’s not wise to judge a book by its cover, but honey, this is just plain fugly. Please tell me I’m going to be amazed by the whimsy and character and all kinds of other wondrous adjectives the second I step over the threshold.”
“Uh, well…I’ve never actually been inside any of the properties on my list today. I don’t usually show rentals, so I had to go by photographs and descriptions. Hopefully we’ll both be pleasantly surprised,” I said with a half laugh.
“Ooh! This feels like an adventure already. Lead the way, handsome.”
I did a double take at his flirtatious delivery. It was quintessential Miles, but there was a vague sense of separation in his campy tone that made me wary. I liked it better when he called me Ding Dong. And that was just weird. I gave him a weak grin then fished out the keys to the lockbox and headed for the front steps.
He grunted his disapproval when we reached the landing then pointed at the cracked glass in the light fixture next to the door and the ginormous cobweb in the corner of the eaves.
“Those are easy fixes,” I assured him as I opened the door. “It’s the interior that counts. Come on.”
I led the way up a set of squeaky narrow stairs and did my best to accentuate the positives. Ample natural lighting, high ceilings, good bones. It was harder to spin the loud music and tangle of bikes on the second-floor landing. Miles crossed his arms and leaned on the railing then gave me a sassy head bob and a knowing look.
“Let me guess. He’s a backup singer for Pink and claims she stops by regularly to ask if they’ve finally rented the top unit to her biggest fan who happens to have a fabulous voice and is ready to drop everything to travel with her around the world.”
“And that would be you?”
“Maybe. And the bikes belong to a couple of athletes training for the Tour de France. They pop by for blowjobs often and aren’t adverse to climbing another set of stairs if the new tenant is interested.” He stuck his tongue in the side of his cheek and completed his deadpan commentary with a lewd hand gesture.
I smirked. “So you’re looking for a place with pop star and orgy connections, eh?”
Miles threw his head back and laughed.
“Yes and no and not necessarily in that order. Or maybe exactly in that order. It’s best to leave a little mystery, Ding Dong. Are we seeing this place or what?” he asked, skipping up the stairs ahead of me.
I grinned like an idiot then followed him to the next landing. I shook the keys and winked at him. “Are you ready for this?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he retorted. “Amaze me.”
I swung the door open and braced myself for his reaction. I didn’t have to wait long.
“Foly huck.”
“Do you mean holy fuck, it’s awesome or—”
“No. Foly huck means ‘ew’ or ‘meh.’ Not awesome in the slightest. Well, let’s hear your sales spiel on this one. High ceilings and…what?” Miles set his hands on his hips and cast a scrutinizing gaze over the tiny space.
I paced the stained oatmeal colored carpet to the two dirty windows across the room, stopping to peek into the galley-style kitchen before pivoting on my heels to face Miles.
“Um, okay.” I scratched my head and did my best to remember why I’d put this one on the list. “It’s relatively inexpensive, great location and…storage! The listing sheet said there was ample closet space. Let’s check out the bedroom.”
If the main living area was a shoebox, the bedroom was a postage stamp. I highly doubted the storage would be adequate, but it was worth a look before we moved on to the next place. I gave the tiny room a once-over then flung open the closet door.
“Wow. It is big,” Miles muttered. “Bigger than expected anyway.”
“And we all know that’s rarely the case,” I said, not bothering to curb the innuendo in my tone.
It was hard to say who was more surprised by my uncharacteristic and decidedly unprofessional quip. We stared at each other for a moment before Miles busted up laughing. He held his hand up for a high five then punched my bicep like we were old buddies.
“Isn’t that the honest-to-God truth? I figured you might have a big schlong, but I must say it was nice to find out firsthand,” he commented before turning his back to me and unzipping his bag.