Sleet Sugar by S.J. Tilly
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IZZY
This morning has been… Fun. Easy. Perfect.
After our mutual apologies, and clearing of the air, we settled into easy conversation. I brought some property listings with me to get a feel for what Zach was interested in. The more we talked, the more he realized that he’s not as flexible as he thought he was. Which happens pretty much every time someone starts to look at houses. As we walked through the options, it became apparent that he’s looking for a comfortable family home. One he could grow in, or sell, when the time is right. His wish list doesn’t contain anything crazy. He wants a single family home, three or more bedrooms, two or more bathrooms, attached garage, fenced-in backyard, large kitchen, full-sized trees on the property, and all in a quiet neighborhood that’s not too far from the arena. All in all, it’s doable. More than that, he’s describing the neighborhood my dad and I live in. And with his budget, there's no question about affordability.
The more time we spend here together, talking, the more comfortable I feel with him, but that doesn’t mean I want him to live across the street from me. Loathe as I am to admit it, the thought of seeing women coming and going from his house bothers me on a gut-deep level.
“I think this is a great place to start,” I say to Zach, popping the last bite of an orange ginger scone into my mouth.
“I feel like a fickle prick, seeing that long list in front of you.” Zach gestures to my notepad, where I’ve been taking notes over the last hour.
Laughing a little, I shake my head. “This will actually make it easier to find you a place. Having an opinion about what you want in your home is not a negative thing.”
Zach leans back in his chair. “I’m excited about doing this. I didn’t think I’d want to set roots so quickly, but this town feels right.” He takes a deep breath. “I made the right decision in coming here.”
I can’t help the tug I feel in my chest. That damn turtledove is back and she’s snapping her beak against the base of my throat. “I’m glad.”
“So, when do we start looking?”
“Well… I have a realtor in mind that would be perfect. Her name is Emma Callaghan. She’s a spitfire, who knows everyone and everything. I’ll send her this stuff later today and she’ll probably have properties for you to consider in a day or two.”
“Perfect.” Zach brushes his hands together, as if dusting them off. “I’ve got a packed week, but we could look at houses Thursday night, if she can find some by then.”
His use of the word we makes me pause. “Zach, I won’t be touring these houses with you. That’s what the realtor is for.”
“Unacceptable. You need to be there. Charge me whatever you have to.”
We haven’t even discussed my fees yet. I should’ve sent him a sample contract during our first volley of emails, but it just didn’t feel right. It still doesn’t feel right.
“That’s not the issue, Zach. It’s just not my role. I’ll pre-approve all of her options, make sure they’d be sound investments, but I don’t need to be there.” With you, I don’t add.
He’s shaking his head before I finish talking. “If you think I can make this sort of decision without proper adult supervision, you’re sadly mistaken. I’ll accept no answer other than yes on this.”
“The realtor will be with you. She’s about the size of Polly Pocket, but she’s an adult. You can trust her.”
Zach’s eyes glitter at my mention of Polly Pocket, probably flashing to the same memories I am.
“Be that as it may, I need you with me. I don’t know Miss Polly. I know you. You have good taste.” He winks.
I bite my lip fighting against the urge to cave.
I lose the fight. “Ugh, fine!”
“Great! Thursday night it is. Tell your fancy realtor friend to find us a winner.”
I pull up my calendar on my phone and grimace.
“What is it?” Zach asks.
“I’m not free on Thursday.”
“Is it something you can skip?”
“No.” I don’t look up.
“Izzy, if you’re not free, that’s okay. What about Saturday evening?”
His kind voice should make me feel better, but instead I feel like an asshole.
I click over to Saturday and see that I’m open. “Saturday would work,” I say quietly.
“Good. You just let me know the time. I can pick you up, if you’d like.”
“Oh, um, okay. We’ll see where the houses are located, then I’ll let you know.”
Our meeting is coming to a natural closing point, so I start to pack up my things.
“I have to admit,” Zach says. “I am now endlessly curious about your plans on Thursday.”
I feel foolish for trying to hide the truth from him. I have no reason to feel bad. And by not telling him, I feel like I’m lying, and I don’t like that either.
I take a breath and try to talk as casually, and quickly, as possible. “It’s nothing. Just a gathering. With some people. For some drinks.”
I look up and Zach has an eyebrow raised. “Well, that clarifies it.”
He wants me to say it, fine.
I straighten my spine. “If you must know, I’m going to a speed dating event.”
Zach’s second eyebrow raises to meet the first. “That’s a real thing?”
He seems honestly curious. When I nod my head, his curiosity dims a bit. But instead of seeing sadness or resignation, I see defiance.
I don’t think this is going to end well for me.
