to ever “break the internet.” They’d probably sent the GIF of me having a public meltdown over Miles a dozen times to friends over the years in texts and Facebook threads. No one recognized me anymore. Or that the world’s most-used meme for rejection was my face next to his.
Nor would they ever know.
“I guess I just don’t like high maintenance clients,” I said.
Donna blinked at me. “That’s not true. You held Michelle Perrin’s hand through her absurd property search and never lost your cool.”
Michelle Perrin was a fast-rising culinary star who’d wanted to ride the momentum of her fame after almost winning her season of Chef Supreme. I’d helped her find the perfect spot for her bistro in the Bywater. But she’d easily been the most demanding client I’d ever had.
“He didn’t seem that high maintenance,” Dave added, completely unhelpfully. “Kind of more down to earth than I expected for a rock star.”
“Except for arriving almost an hour late and hating everything we showed him, you mean?”
“Is this going to be a problem?”
I turned to find Brenda behind me. “No, not at all. Also, I’m really sorry about that. I swear to you that I didn’t try to poach him.”
Her air of coolness evaporated as she gave a small sigh. “I know. Why don’t you step into my office?”
I followed her back to her desk feeling more relieved than worried. Brenda had always been a fair boss, and I was glad for a chance to explain myself. Except I had no explanation as to why Miles had insisted on me as his agent. There’d been no hint of recognition on his face when we spoke.
“I know you didn’t poach him,” she said as I settled into my seat. “I could feel my age working against me, and it made me defensive.”
“Your age? You’re so young.” There was no way she was even fifty yet.
“Yeah, but he sees me as a different generation. He’d probably be more interested in me as an agent if he were opening an antique shop or something.” She rolled her eyes, and I couldn’t decide if it was at Miles or herself. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll be a great client for us to boast about, and you’ve got strong instincts. Knock him out with some stellar properties. I trust you. I just wanted you to know I’m not upset with you. A win for you is a win for all of us.”
“Thanks for understanding,” I said. “But honestly, I’d be happy to hand him off to someone else. I’m pretty busy trying to help another client look for a boutique space.”
“You can do both. He’s made his decision, and the client gets what the client wants.”
Miles wouldn’t. I’d find a way to make him someone else’s headache without him firing the firm all together.
“All right,” I said, standing again. “I guess I’d better go set up some showings.”
And figure out how to get him off my client list. There was no way Miles Crowe would ever be worth the trouble.
Chapter Three
I was a frustrated mess when I slammed the door to my apartment shortly after five that afternoon.
When Chloe didn’t immediately demand to know what was wrong, I realized she probably hadn’t made it home from work yet.
I stripped off my suit and threw the jacket in the corner. It was going to have to be dry-cleaned before I wore it again.
If only they could dry-clean my memory, and they could remove the section where I met Miles Crowe for the first time and I was covered in beignet dust.
I flopped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling.
I mean, seriously?
There had been only one objective this morning: fly completely under Miles Crowe’s radar, then never see him again. Instead, I’d stood out in the worst possible way, and now I had an appointment with him tomorrow.
“Hey, universe? You suck.”
The universe didn’t answer.
I put on joggers and a tank top and went downstairs to the café for sympathy. Jerome was almost done wiping down the kitchen, all except for the counter where Miss Mary worked on the bread dough she would leave to rise overnight for sandwiches the next day. Then they’d lock up, and Jerome would drive her home.
“Hey, sugar,” Miss Mary said, glancing up as the kitchen door closed behind me. “You hungry? I can whip up an omelet for you.”
“No, that’s okay, I’ll do it. Want one?” I walked into the commercial fridge and grabbed the ingredients I needed.