Page 7 of Punked By the Playmaker
“I’ll send you that contact.” He spoke to my back.
I waved over my shoulder. “Thanks.”
Sure enough, by the time I made it to my hotel room, there was a text from Cole with the information for his realtor, Arizona Cleary.
Barring a miracle, I was going to be here for a while, so I guess it was time to put down roots in San Diego.
Chapter 3
Arizona
“Austin!”Thesideofmy fist came down hard on his door. “You have exactly sixty seconds to get out here before I revoke your right to privacy and use my key.”
If he thought I was kidding, the kid was sorely mistaken. With my phone in hand, I pressed start on the stopwatch app.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Forty.
Fifty.
It was a damn miracle my hair hadn’t gone fully gray at thirty-one. If it wasn’t work stressing me out, it was Austin. God was probably having a good laugh as he watched me struggle to raise the spirited, stubborn boy. There was no doubt he was karmic retribution for how wild I’d been at that age.
Sixty.
“Ready or not, here I come!”
I reached for the knob just as the door swung open to reveal the annoyed fourteen-year-old on the other side.
“Jeez, where’s the fire?” he huffed, hefting his backpack onto one shoulder.
My eyes narrowed at his sarcastic tone. “We needed to leave ten minutes ago.”
Austin brushed past me and down the stairs. “Last time I checked, school doesn’t start until 7:45. We still have plenty of time to get there before first bell.”
I followed closely behind, making sure he didn’t take a detour to the kitchen on the way out the door.
“What? No breakfast?” he complained.
Locking up, I tossed over my shoulder, “You can grab something from the cafeteria.”
He let out a pleased hum as he slipped into the passenger’s seat of my sedan. The school meals were practically gourmet and pricey as hell. It was a rare treat for Austin to enjoy one because, despite my status as one of the top realtors in the city, we couldn’t afford to be frivolous with our spending. Medical bills and the five-figure monthly cost of the memory care facility ate up a huge chunk of my commissions.
Tossing my messenger bag in the back, I hopped behind the wheel. As we pulled out of the subdivision, I explained, “I can’t be late today. I’m showing houses to a high-profile client.”
Austin glanced over. “How high profile are we talking?”
“You know I can’t name names, but they’re a professional athlete.”
He whistled. “Damn, that’ll be a nice windfall.”
Breathing room was more like it. My cut of a multimillion-dollar home sale would be enough to pay down our debt, start a college fund for Austin, and stash the extra away for a rainy day.
Keeping it light, I teased, “Yeah, well, we’re gonna need it since you’re determined to eat me out of house and home.”
