Savage Row - Britney King Page 0,5

sift through the contents of the drawer. He makes a gesture as though to ask who’s on the phone and why this person is more important than locating our car keys so we aren’t late. I hold up one finger, signaling I’ll only be a minute. “What’s a singing bowl?”

“You know—a singing bowl. This one was valued at over five grand. From Tibet—he warned me, Amy, he did. I should have fired that crew long ago. They were even drinking our LaCroix. Can you believe that? Trevor counted,” she says incredulously. “Anyway, I really need to be around here to cheer him up. You know how it is.”

I do not, in fact, know how it is. But I think about easy money and gold status and the sand between my toes. “Okay,” I say. “I’m in.”

Chapter Three

The way she pets the dog brings a level of excitement he’d forgotten existed. So much raw potential. And how long has it been since someone looked at him that way? Too long.

A problem he intends to rectify as soon as the opportunity presents itself. And it will.

For now, there’s something uniquely satisfying about watching a person when they don’t know they’re being observed. The way she fingers her hair when she’s nervous, he notices. The way she cocks her head when she laughs, he makes a note of that too. Her mouth, it does things to him. Only in theory at this point. But that will soon change. The thought pulls a smile across his entire face. This time will be different.

The furrow of her brow when she concentrated was what had drawn him to her in the beginning. It could have been anyone. Narrowed eyes and the way she chewed on her bottom lip, well—that was all it took. He ached to get closer. Watching her fascinated him. He enjoyed wondering what was running through that pretty little head of hers. He liked how he could never quite figure it out. And for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt like a changed man. Optimistic, even. This one would not be like the rest of them. She was different. Looking at her was like looking at the sun on a bright day, dangerous and exhilarating all the same. Like a very fun game, the kind he knew he wanted to keep playing.

Chapter Four

The house on Clairmont is exactly as I imagined it, more stunning in person than the photos on MLS convey. I arrive early, just in case. Even though Dana assured me everything was ready, I want to make sure for myself—a decision I would immediately come to regret. When I agreed to handle this, I had not foreseen myself in five-inch heels and a pencil skirt, white blouse rolled up to my elbows, dragging a three-ton planter around a walkway.

The overbearing seller, Dana had neglected to mention. A woman with sad eyes and a sour scowl who would insist on micromanaging my every move and make me question ever saying yes to anything again. Why don’t we put the flyers here? Let’s put down the rugs. No, let’s take up the rugs. I think we should move that planter…

The first five tries did not get the small potted tree to a position of her liking, so I’m not sure what she thought the sixth would do. And yet there I was, sweat dripping from my brow, dragging it back to its original spot. I smile through gritted teeth as she said, Are you sure the sign is in the right place?

I had assured her several times it was perfect, only to have her go out and move it herself. Then there were the balloons, something I do for every open house. I always bring them home to the girls. They add an extra touch, and also Blair painted the bathroom wall with the last of my mascara, so I had to stop at the store anyhow.

The seller insists they’re unnecessary. Tacky is the term she used, and I watch out the front window as she cuts them loose with her teeth and they float toward the sky.

She glances back at me once over her shoulder, shakes her head, and then, to my relief, gets in her Mercedes and speeds off. My phone rings. I think of Greg and the girls at the soccer field, and suddenly I am overwhelmed with a sense of sadness. Dana’s name on the screen instead of his makes my stomach