Reckless Hearts Read Free Page A

different online
dating profiles and a girl in every state. No mess, no fuss, no
angry, painful breakup three months from now that leaves me cursing
his name into a bottle of tequila.
    He’ll
always be the gorgeous guy who helped me out of a tough spot—and
who kissed me on a rain-soaked street corner so hard, I forgot my own
name.
    I
tuck the memory away, smiling, and head for home.

 

Two.
     
    A
week later, and just as I predicted, Will seems like a distant dream.
The memory of our kiss feels more than just two hundred miles away,
but a different lifetime: a scene from a movie you watch before the
credits roll, and you emerge from the dark theatre blinking at the
bright sunlight of real life again.
    Today,
real life is the Oak Harbor Realty office, my last appointment of the
day, and one very nervous client finally ready to sign their lease on
a dream condo. At least, that’s what was supposed to be the
plan.
    “Are
you sure the traffic noise won’t be a problem?” the
client, Miles, pauses with the pen just over the lease. In his late
fifties, with two grown children moved away and a wife who decided to
pack up and become a yoga teacher in Arizona, Miles is finally ready
to move on with his life—and into a neat, small condo on the
golf course. We must have looked at two dozen places before finding
the perfect place for him, but even now, I can see his indecision
holding him back. “And those association fees . . .”
    “Are
well within your budget,” I reassure him. “And we tested
for noise in every room, remember? Even with all the windows open,
you couldn’t hear a thing.”
    “True . . .”
Miles reaches to sign, then pulls back his hand again. “I just
don’t know. Maybe we should keep looking, make sure there’s
nothing better around.”
    “I
can promise you, you won’t find anything so close to the links.
Those condos get snatched up the minute they’re free.”
But I can see he’s still wavering, so I give him a big smile
and add, “You know what, if you’re not one hundred
percent, then don’t sign. We can look as long as you want. I’m
here to help you.”
    Miles
looks surprised. Maybe he was expecting me to strong-arm him with
enthusiasm like other realtors, or threaten that we’d never
find him something this good, but I never see the point in those kind
of hard-sell tactics. My clients aren’t just commissions to me:
they’re my neighbors, too. Miles here sold insurance to my
parents, volunteers alongside me at the Christmas food drive, and
once helped me duct-tape a leaking pipe when the water wouldn’t
shut off. If he needs another day—or week, or month—before
making his decision, that’s just fine with me.
    “You
know what? I’m being silly now,” he declares. “This
place is perfect, and I know my golf handicap will never be better.”
He signs the lease with a smile.
    “Congratulations!”
I reach across my desk and shake his hand. “I’ll get
copies of everything made and set you up with an official move-in
date.”
    “Thanks
for everything,” Miles says, getting to his feet. “I
guess it’s time for a new beginning.”
    “You’ll
do great.”
    By
the time I see him out and finish printing up some papers, it’s
time to close up for the day. I’m just leaving the files on my
boss’s desk when my cell rings. I fish it from my pocket.
    “Eva!”
I exclaim, delighted, when I see the caller ID. “How are you? I
miss you! When are you coming to visit? When can I come and visit you ?”
    She
laughs down the line at my torrent of questions. “I’m
great! I miss you too, not for a while yet, and whenever you get your
ass up here!”
    I
sink into Marcie’s chair, feeling a pang at her familiar voice.
Eva’s my best friend; she just moved away with her fiancé,
and even though we talk and text all the time, it’s not the
same. “This place isn’t the same without you,” I
sigh. “It feels like you’re on the other side of the
world. But tell me