It was no easy task getting the evening off. Real estate was pretty much a 24/7 job. You had to accommodate your clients’ schedules. If someone could only see a property in the middle of the night, as long as no one was living there, I’d take them to see it. I did everything I could to take care of my clients. They, in turn, took care of me by sending everyone they knew to me.
I had a coworker cover for me, and I’d scheduled so many clients for the following day that I was going to be running from dawn to dusk. But it was worth it to have some time to get to know Jayma. The clients would still be there in the morning.
I had a low-key but classic San Francisco evening planned. We were going to meet in North Beach, the city’s old Italian neighborhood, on the corner of Grant and Union streets, and go from there. I was busting ass to get there early, though, so she wouldn’t have to wait on a street corner for me. Carter’s dad, who’d been more of a father to me than my own, always told us to never keep a lady waiting. When I arrived, I had to wipe my forehead down with a handkerchief—another thing Carter’s dad always insisted on. He’d said hankies might have been old-fashioned, but having one could get you out of multiple jams. Like just then.
And hell if I wasn’t doubly glad I had one when I saw Jayma bouncing toward me down the street wearing a big, gorgeous smile, and a slim dress showing off her trim figure. For some inexplicable reason, I broke out in another sweat, even though I was standing there doing nothing.
What was it about this woman? God help me.
“Hi!” she said in a big, bright voice, throwing her arms around me for a hug. She smelled freaking awesome. I didn’t want to let go.
Cool it, asshole.
“Hey, gorgeous. Great to see you again,” I said.
“I just love this part of the city,” she said, looking around. “It’s so charming. Kind of like going back in time. Although, I don’t know how many Italians live here anymore.” She laughed.
“No kidding. But at least the place is still full of killer places to eat. The Italians might have moved out of the neighborhood, but they left their restaurants behind.”
Seriously, I was grateful for that. I lived for Italian food.
“Speaking of food, I’m starving,” she said.
“Good, ‘cause so am I. Have you been to Tony’s?”
“You mean the world-famous pizza joint? I’ve never been, and I’ve always wanted to give it a try.”
We strolled a couple blocks toward Tony’s, and when we arrived, I placed my hand on the small of her back and guided her in the door. Tony’s was a typical old Italian joint with exposed brick, shelves of Chianti bottles lining the walls, and big paintings of the Roman Coliseum and other Italian landmarks. There was even a fountain in the corner with a little Leaning Tower of Pisa in the middle—tacky and hilarious, but charming in a way that only Italian restaurants could be.
We ordered a couple different kinds of pizza and a bottle of wine and got to talking.
“So, you have some work to do on your house, huh?” I asked.
She sighed. “Yeah, do I. But I think I might be getting some help with it. There’s still hope.”
“Right. Flipping houses is a hard business. You have to have enough money, and then your contractors, all lined up at the right time. If you don’t turn it around fast enough, you could face a massive loss.” I’d seen it before, having helped people both buy and sell fixer-uppers. It was a tough game.
“All was going according to plan,” she said sadly. “Then the boyfriend bailed.”
“Jesus, that sucks. But it sounds like you’ve found some people who can help.” I caught her gaze. “Like me.”
A pink blush lit up her face. “Gosh, Dig. Thank you. I really appreciate that. Are you sure it’s okay?”
I reached across the table and took her hand. No use in pussyfooting around.
“I offered. I would not help if I didn’t think I sincerely could.”
“Well, thank you. It’s very generous,” she said, gripping my fingers back.
“I’ve helped folks with houses like this before. There are plenty of people out there looking for a turnkey house to get into, one where they don’t have to do anything. I can find buyers for you once the place is all fixed up.”
I could swear her eyes were looking extra-shiny all of a sudden. Was she going to cry?
She cleared her throat and let go of my hand, grabbing her napkin to dab her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I get emotional about this stuff. It’s been a real rollercoaster.”
“You won’t lose the house. Not if I have anything to do with it. And I know Carter feels the same way.”