Shane finished feeding Carson and placed the empty bottle on the sofa table. “Hey, Aimee,” he hollered. “You ready? The real estate lady should be here any moment.”
When his fiancée failed to answer, Shane placed Carson in his Pack ‘n Play and wandered back to the bedroom. Aimee was on the bed scrolling through her phone, like she did for hours every night. “You haven’t even showered! Wimberly Ann will be here any minute.”
Aimee rolled her eyes. “Settle down, will you? I showered this morning.”
He refrained from telling her she smelled like the grill at Charlie’s. “Yeah, okay. Well, she’ll be here soon.”
She stood. “I’ll brush my hair and throw some DKNY perfume on. Will that do?” she teased.
He nodded. Once she’d retreated to the bathroom, Shane glanced down at her phone on the bed. He knew he shouldn’t, but the draw was intense. His eyes darted around the room, then back at the bathroom door. Now he could hear water running.
Curious as to why Aimee spent so much time scrolling through her phone, he quickly picked it up and clicked on it. Pushing guilt aside, he let his eyes scan the tiny screen. The browser was open to a Hollywood casting site.”
“Are you snooping on my phone?”
His heart seized and he quit breathing. Slowly, he turned with the phone still in his hand. “Uh, no,” he managed to say.
Aimee laughed. She took the phone from his hand. “Lighten up, Shane. Geez! I don’t care if you look at my phone. Nothing there I’m hiding.”
Shane felt his cheeks pinken. “I—well, what was that casting call page? I mean, you’re not returning to California, are you?” Even as he pushed the words from his mouth, his throat constricted with fear.
“Of course not, silly.” She gave his shoulder a playful shove. “Why would I book it now when we’re about to buy a really cool house. Plus, we’re a family now…right?”
Relief flooded every cell of Shane’s body. “Yeah, yeah…we’re a family. I was silly to even think you might leave again.” He pulled her into his arms. “I just love you, you know? I couldn’t stand the thought of anything changing. I’m so happy right now.”
“Me, too,” she promised.
That was his cue.
Shane pulled Aimee closer, holding her against him. She smelled like a mixture of flowers and oranges. One hand rose to her jaw. He lifted her face and he went after her mouth like a starving man. He buried his other hand in her long, blonde hair, enjoying the silky feel. He groaned against her mouth, and she let out a little moan of her own.
The doorbell rang, startling them both back to the present.
“Guess she’s here,” Aimee said, straightening her T-shirt.
“Uh, yeah.” Shane ran a hand through his hair, grabbed his fiancée’s hand. Together, they made their way to the front door where they greeted Wimberly Ann. She wore a tight pair of black leather pants and an off-the-shoulder sweater in a light shade of yellow. Large earrings dangled from her ears and a stack of bangle bracelets made noise as the jewelry clinked together on her wrist.
“Hey, you two! Ready to buy a house?” She held up a large stack of documents, many of them fastened together with little black clips. “These are your closing documents. I want you to review them before tomorrow, when we meet at the escrow office. I’ve put notes and highlighted all the places where you’ll be signing in front of a notary.”
Shane’s eyes widened. “Boy, that’s a lot of paper.”
Wimberly Ann grinned. “Oh, honey. Don’t let none of that scare you. It’s just standard legal mumbo-jumbo. Don’t worry about a thing. Wimberly Ann has you all set and ready to go.” She gave them both a reassuring look. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll have keys in hand.”
“Uh, is it okay if my sister looks these over too? Christel’s an attorney and has her CPA license.”
“Of course, darlin’. She’s welcome to offer any advice she deems necessary. Although, I will warn that these are standard form documents. I’ve used them, or ones like them, hundreds of times.”
Shane and Aimee exchanged glances. Aimee had a wide grin on her face.
Shane let himself smile as well as he squeezed his fiancée’s hand. “Sounds like we’ll be homeowners soon.”
Mig pulled up to the offices in his prized Chevy Bel Air and cut the engine. He climbed out and shut the driver’s door, taking a moment to rub a spot of dirt with his sleeve.
“Yoo hoo! Mr. Nakamoa?”
He turned to find that realtor lady walking in his direction. She wore pants that hugged her frame and a shirt that showed off cleavage. She also wore a look of determination.
“Mr. Nakamoa? I mean, Miguel…can I call you that? Or better, how about Miggy. I’ll call you Miggy.”
He cringed at the presumptuous nickname. “Friends calls me Mig,” he informed her.
She looped her arm through the crook of his elbow. “Well, I hope we’re friends.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, my goodness! That car!” She glanced back at him with a look of amazement. “Is that a ’55?”
She reached and stroked the hood like it was a cat. “Red and white is my favorite paint job that year. Actually, the factory colors are Gypsy Red and India Ivory. Sea Mist Green is a close second, in terms of favorites, but, oh…this car is like chocolate pudding to a starving man.”
Bending, she examined the wide white sidewall tires and rear wheel skirts. “Topped with a dollop of whipped cream,” she added.
Mig couldn’t help but appreciate the view. Speaking of starving men, it had been more than a little while since he last felt his heart speed up because of a woman’s backside. She was a bit bold—over the top, really—but her curves made up for that.
“You like cars?” he asked, watching as she straightened.
“Like cars? Honey, it’s been reported that when I was a tiny kid, I passed up Barbies for Matchbox cars every time. When other girls were picking out prom dresses, I was on my knees praying to the good Lord that Tommy Bennett would ask me to the dance, just so I could ride in his aqua Corvette.” Reverence appeared on her face. “Truth was, I’d dance with the devil to slip into those leather seats.”
Mig felt himself warming to the woman. Not only was she a looker, she possessed a rare love of cars. That was a trait you just didn’t find in many females.