Fortune's Homecoming. Allison Leigh

planted his ball cap more firmly on his head and sucked on the coffee. He’d warned his mom that drinks with the Deckers was never a simple thing. Even when they were trying to do something good like sponsor the library deal. “Which place are we heading to first?”

      Billie held the steering wheel and her tea in one hand and reached over to the folder she’d dropped on his lap, and he damn near choked on his coffee. But all she did was flip open the folder to reveal a colorful printed map.

      “Property number one.” She lightly tapped the page, then returned her hand to the steering wheel. Evidently, only to maneuver the car right back across the same two lanes of traffic.

      He closed his eyes. Give him six hundred pounds of ornery steer any day.

      “The properties are numbered in the order we’ll see them,” she said above the wind. “I know it’s easy for the properties to blur together, which is why I’ve prepared the folio. You can make notes as you like.”

      She reached behind her seat again and produced a slender gold pen tastefully monogrammed with “Austin Elite” on the side. She handed it to him. “Three of the properties this morning are vacant, including this first one. I find my clients usually prefer visiting vacant properties. Makes it easier to imagine living there.” She zipped around another semitruck. “Weather is supposed to be hotter than usual today. I have several bottles of chilled water if—”

      He lifted his hand just in case she intended to reach behind her seat again. “I’m good for now. Thanks.”

      She sent him another smile. “Great. I love a morning drive.” She changed lanes again. “Just gets the blood flowing, you know?”

      He managed a smile. The only thing getting his blood flowing that morning was the vivid smile on her pretty face. That, and the knowledge that his life insurance was up-to-date.

      Fortunately, the farther outside of town they traveled, the thinner the traffic grew. Then, at least, he didn’t worry so much about colliding with other vehicles as much as flying off the highway curves. After about thirty minutes more, she pulled off the freeway and began working her way through the mercifully empty countryside to the first property.

      Even though this whole thing was his idea, it still felt strange when she pulled to a stop in front of the first house.

      “Here we are at last.”

      It was a brick two-story with two wings and not another house in sight. But imagining himself living there was beyond him.

      “The property is on city water.” She pushed her glasses up onto her head before gathering up the Magic Bag hiding behind her seat, then climbed out of the car. “As you can see from the printout, there is a little over five acres.” She looked down at the ground beneath them, waving one arm. “The entire drive is covered in pavers—antique terra-cotta color, I believe. Very attractive.” She looked up at him over the top of the car and he gave what he hoped was a suitable response.

      Her sales litany didn’t lose any steam, so he supposed it must have sufficed.

      “The iron entrance gate was left open now for us, but it’s electronically controlled. So you wouldn’t have to worry about any Grayson groupies coming out to bother you.”

      He gave her a quick look. He hadn’t used that particular term with her. “I don’t have groupies.” It was blatantly untrue, even though he wished otherwise.

      “Sorry.” She looked contrite. “I saw the news this morning about what happened at Twine last night. The term was just in my head.”

      He sighed. “Overeager fans who’d had way too much to drink. Unfortunately, it happens occasionally.” Particularly when he was out in public with people like the Deckers, who felt compelled to make a big deal about their “celebrity” friend.

      “Did that one woman actually punch the news cameraman?”

      He grimaced. Two women from the bar, bolstered by booze and who knew what else, had been intent on joining their party. “Only after he told her he wasn’t putting her on camera unless she put her shirt back on. It pretty much turned into a free-for-all after that.”

      “Did you really pay her jail fine?”

      “It seemed the right thing to do at the time.” He stared at the house. “Maybe an electronic gate would be a good thing, after all.”

      “Or maybe avoid places like Twine,” she said humorously.

      He grunted. “Ever been there?”

      “A time or twenty. It’s the best place for martinis and tapas.” She gestured toward the house. “Would you like to see inside?”

      He shrugged and closed the car door. “That’s what we’re here for.”

      She gave him a winning smile again. “Don’t forget your folio if you want to make notes.”

      He reached back in for the fancy folder of information she’d prepared, and followed her toward the front door of the house.

      “I haven’t been here before, but I know it’s on a lockbox.” Her high heels clicked on the paver stones as she searched for the box holding the house key. “In addition to the three garages off to your left, there’s a structure in the rear of the house that could also be used as a garage or for some other type of storage. Ah. There it is.” She knelt down behind a tastefully positioned bush, and straightened a moment later, doing a little shimmy to push the hem of her narrow skirt back down toward her knees. She glanced his way as she unlocked the enormous front door. “The position on this hill gives a nice view. And I’ve heard that the adjacent land may be available for the right price. It’s totally undeveloped and would mean an additional ten acres. Have any initial thoughts?”

      The nice view he was looking at had more to do with her than the location of the house. Which wasn’t exciting him in the least. The vegetation dotting the hillside was more cactus and scrub than grassland. “Let’s just see what we’ve got inside.”

      She swept open the door and waited for him to enter.

      He walked inside. The house might be vacant of occupants, but it wasn’t vacant of furnishings. Beneath the vaulted entry, an ornate neon-green chandelier hung over a bright purple statue of a rearing horse.

      For a minute, he wished he was back home in Paseo, where the only times you used the front entrance of the house—versus the back door—was if company was coming over for Christmas dinner. Where everyone in town knew who he was and didn’t give two figs about his supposed “celebrity” status. And where anyone with two licks of common sense knew better than to hang a butt-ugly green chandelier over an even uglier purple horse.

      “That’s a bold design choice,” Billie said faintly.

      “It’s ugly as hell,” he said bluntly. “And I like horses.”

      “Just keep in mind that the furnishings aren’t permanent fixtures. They’ll all be leaving along with the owners. Do you want to see more, or shall we move on?”

      Despite the hideous horse, the high ceilings and the view outside, the inside of the house felt like a cave to him. “Move on, if you don’t mind.”

      “Of course not. You’re the buyer, after all. Walking in the door should feel like home to you.” She juggled the materials in her arm and came up with a business card. “I just need to leave my card. I’ll meet you at the car.”

      He gave the hideous statue a wide berth and went back outside. He thought again about the ranch in Paseo. There, the house wasn’t even a third of the size of this one, but it was surrounded by a whole lot more prime grazing land. Would he ever find a place that felt like home when he walked in the door, besides the house in which he’d grown up?

      He headed back to the car and his now-cool coffee. He drank it anyway.

      Within minutes, Billie had locked up the house again and they were off