It Started with a Crack by Piper James

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dakota

The work was tedious, but it didn’t bother me in the least. I was so excited about the possibility of commission money, I’d gladly stay here all night to get this done. Finally, I’d be able to contribute to the household finances and not feel like such a moocher.

Noah had been paying all the bills, buying the groceries, the new furniture, and even filling my car’s gas tank—after he paid to have it repaired and new tires installed.

And no matter how close we’d gotten, I still felt like I needed to pay him back.

I wasn’t one of those women who were happy living on their partner’s dime. I wanted us to be equals, and we were in every other way besides financially. And this job was the first step in remedying that.

Selling the ranch would be the next step.

My fingers paused on my keyboard as dread filled me. What would happen to Noah and me when we moved out into separate places? I talked a big game about it being no big deal to the girls earlier, but inside, I was quaking. I knew our proximity was what had made us so close, so fast, and I was never one to believe the old adage about absence making the heart grow fonder.

Out of sight, out of mind had proven to be truer, in my limited experience.

I shook my head to clear it. There was no point worrying about it, now. There had been no offers on the ranch, and even if one came in, we’d still have the escrow period to figure out what would happen next. Maybe we could find a house to rent together. We’d need a yard for Kane, even though the Maltipoo was tiny and didn’t need much room in the house, itself.

“Get it together, Dakota,” I murmured, forcing my mind to focus on the task at hand.

Noah and I had just decided to be exclusive, and already I was setting up house in my mind. Never mind we already lived together. We always knew that situation was temporary.

My phone started to ring, startling me. I shifted the paperwork around on my desk until I found it and looked at the screen. I didn’t recognize the number, but the area code and prefix told me it was located in Oakley.

“Dakota Jones,” I said in greeting.

“Hi, Dakota, this is Chantelle Newsome from Newsome & Associates over in Oakley. How are you?”

The voice was syrupy sweet with and exaggerated Texas twang, and I had no problem picturing Chantelle Newsome. Her realty company had billboards all over East Texas, all plastered with her gorgeous headshot. Big blonde hair, sparkling eyes, unnaturally white teeth, Botox-tight skin, and a set of seriously ginormous—and also unnatural—boobs accentuated by her straight posture and arms crossed underneath.

“Hi, Chantelle. How can I help you?” I asked.

“I hate to do this to you, but I need to show the Golden Eagle Ranch in twenty minutes. I have some clients that are really interested in the place.”

“We have a two-hour notice requirement,” I said, keeping my words slow and measured even though my mind was whirling. “The owner is still in residence.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, and I could hear the wind whipping through the speakers for a second as if she’d rolled a car window down and back up again. “Again, I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Wait, are you already on your way out there with the clients?” I asked, feeling the panic set in.

“They’re meeting me there in twenty minutes. I’ll be there in ten, though, to check out the home, make sure everything is tidy and the lights are all on for the best lighting to highlight the place.”

Shit. I can’t say no. I owe it to the Perry Brothers to try to get this place sold.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll contact the seller and make sure he’s out of there.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” she said, her saccharine sweetness making me gag. “Hopefully, we can work together to get this place sold today! Toodles.”

The line went dead, and I just sat there for several beats, trying to make sense of what was happening. Breaking out of my shock, I pulled the phone from my ear and called Noah. When it went to voicemail, I gritted out a curse and shot him a text.

Me: Are you at home? A realtor is coming to show the ranch. Can you please make sure everything is picked up and leave for a while?

I stared at my phone, tapping my toe against the carpet as I nervously waited for a response. Noah was usually pretty quick to get back to me, but after a full minute, I still hadn’t heard anything. I tried calling him again, but there was still no answer.

“Fuck,” I spat, leaping to my feet.

I quickly forwarded all the work I’d done to Geraldine and gathered my things. Running into her office, I rapped my knuckles on the doorjamb to get her attention.

“Hey, Geraldine, I need to take off for a bit. A realtor is headed out to the ranch, and I can’t get in touch with Noah to make sure he’s gone and the place is clean. I’m sorry. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She waved a hand in the air, saying, “Go do what you have to do. I can finish up here. Thanks for all your help.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“I’m sure,” she said. “Go on, now. Sell that ranch!”

I gave her a smile that I hoped didn’t look as fake as it felt. She didn’t seem to notice, turning her attention back to her computer screen. Calling out a quick goodbye, I rushed out to my car.

If I hurried, I could probably get to the ranch at the same time as Chantelle. We could work together to make sure the place was presentable, and then I’d make myself scarce so she could do her thing.

She’d talk her clients into buying within minutes, I was sure. They didn’t call her the Royalty of Real Estate for nothing.

I should’ve been happy. Ecstatic. The money I stood to earn would change my life.

But all I felt was panic and a mild churning in my gut, like somehow, I knew this was the moment where everything was going to change.

For better or worse, I had no idea.

Pulling out onto the road, I sent up a silent prayer that no matter what happened, nothing would change between Noah and me. Because no matter what, I wasn’t ready for what we had to end.