“Elle, hey. Sorry about that. I’ll get your shirt cleaned, no problem.” Today he wore jeans and a short sleeve black shirt that looked tailored to perfection. Without the jacket he’d worn in the office, it was obvious that he put in his gym time.
“I don’t think the coffee will come out.” I turned to scan the space, the epitome of professionalism. “It’s fine. I’ve got other shirts.”
“Then I’ll replace it. Let me make it up to you. Can you text me your size?”
There was a time when having Miles Crowe’s personal number would have meant everything to me. Fourteen-year-old Gabi could both imagine Miles asking her to marry him in a huge romantic ceremony where he sang a song he’d written for her and also could never have imagined a moment in which he’d be offering to buy her a new shirt.
Elle did not care about either of these things. Calm, cool, collected. Get this guy to drop you.
“That’s not necessary,” I told him. “Let’s talk about the property.”
He studied me for a second, hesitating. His shirt made his eyes bluer. I refused to look away, but I wanted to. He cleared his throat. “I think you might still be mad, and I get it. I was late, and I ruined your shirt. I feel so bad. Like, terrible.”
He sounded...sincere? Well, he should. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t be my headache much longer. I needed to redirect this meeting and get it over with so I could go home and change.
You are grace personified, I reminded myself as self-consciousness over my gym top crept in. I did the swan thing with my neck, reclaiming my composure.
“Oh no, did it burn your neck?” he asked.
I quit stretching my neck and fought a blush. “No, it’s fine. Look, if we’re going to work together, you’re going to have to be on time. I have other clients and responsibilities.” There. That should tick him right off.
“Understood. I’m so sorry about this morning. I stopped to get us the coffee at this place around the corner, and I had no idea it would take so long. I didn’t even bring Aaron today because he runs late constantly, and I still didn’t make it on time. I feel terrible,” he repeated. “For Tuesday too. Couldn’t get Aaron out of the door.”
“Then fire him,” I said because I found myself almost believing his apology. “If he can’t keep an appointment, you should find a manager who can.”
“Fair, except he’s my cousin, so I can’t.” He sighed. “I’ll figure out how to make this up to you, but in the meantime, we’re here, right? Might as well talk about the space.”
Might as well use the time to convince him I was the wrong agent for him without actually saying I didn’t want to work with him. If I did, he might ask why, and that would open up a discussion I refused to have with Miles Crowe, ever.
“Sure, let’s talk about the property,” I said. “As you can see, it’s the most spacious one Brenda identified for you. Did you get a chance to explore it while I cleaned up?”
He nodded once, slowly. “Yeah. It’s definitely enough room, but I already knew from the presentation that this wasn’t going to be right. I was hoping for some new properties to consider.”
“These are the best ones in Downtown, and it’s most efficient to start by figuring out what does and doesn’t work for you and calibrate from here.”
“I guess that makes sense.” He sent a quick glance around the room. “I don’t know how to explain this, but places give me a vibe. I know,” he said with a wince, like he thought I was about to interrupt him. “It sounds like I’ve been in California too long.”
“Not really. People talk about places having a vibe all the time.”
“Right. Uh, I don’t think I mean it the way most people mean it.”
I was curious in spite of myself. “What do you mean then?”
“It’s like...I can kind of feel the soul of a place? I don’t know.” He shoved his hand through his hair like he was frustrated with himself for his lack of words. “I know what song I would write about a place I’m in. That’s the only way I can explain it.”
“What song would this place get?”
“It wouldn’t. That’s the problem. It’s a great space for something else. Maybe a FedEx or something, but this place has no soul.”