However, if I was subscribing to the theory that fate was dealing the cards, it also meant I had to at least consider how Remi had suddenly stumbled into my life—three times now.
If I’d arrived at the courthouse one minute later, she wouldn’t have elbowed me in the face.
If I’d gone straight home after work, she wouldn’t have seen me at McMurphy’s.
If she hadn’t spilled those damn drinks, I wouldn’t have had to touch her, reminding me just how fucking incredible it felt to have a woman in my arms.
All of that couldn’t have happened by pure chance alone.
It was probably nothing but a crush for Remi. Hell, I wasn’t a swamp ogre. It wasn’t impossible that a woman found me attractive. That alone would have been easy enough to write off. But there was no denying the Goddamn safety pin. Or the indisputable truth that I craved Remi Grey in ways I’d never be able to ignore.
If the universe was once again playing its hand at matchmaking, I couldn’t very well sit this one out.
Turning the pin in my fingers, I shook my head. Honestly, why was I even surprised?
“Well played, Sally. Well played.”
Remi
“Just pull me out, dammit,” I snapped at Aaron.
Searching for just the right angle, he stood over me, his phone held high, recording as he laughed. “First, I have to document this glorious and completely humiliating moment for you. You’ll thank me when you go viral.”
I impatiently waved a hand in his direction. “I swear, if you post this on TikTok, I’m firing you as my best friend.”
He slanted his head and shot me a grin. “Are you really in a position to be making idle threats right now?”
Being that I was stuck half in, half out of the crawl space under a house, it was safe to say I was not in the position for anything other than being cocooned for eternity in a spider’s web.
I huffed. “I should have called Mark.”
Aaron folded over, put his hands on his knees, and peered into the small space around me. “Could there be snakes in there?”
“I’m not sure, but there will be snakes in your bed tonight if you don’t help me up. Come on. I’m losing circulation to my feet.” It wasn’t true. My feet were fine, but it was safe to say my gray silk blouse would never be the same.
This was what I got for doubting the home inspector when he’d put in his report that the floor to the downstairs bathroom was rotting out. He was in fact correct, by the way. Though I’d missed the part in his write-up about how the hell he’d gotten out of the crawl space. For all I knew, he had pulled the same Winnie the Pooh maneuver on the other side.
“Hurry up. My clients will be home any minute.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, tucking his phone into his back pocket and then grabbing my hands.
It took a few attempts, him pulling, me wiggling, but eventually, he dragged me free. Mulch was permanently embedded in my shirt, but my pants would dry clean okay.
“Thank you,” I said, brushing myself off as best as I could.
He grinned. “No, no. Thank you.”
“Don’t you dare tag me in that video.”
He slapped his chest with feigned innocence. “Who, me? Why, I would never.”
I collected my clipboard off the porch and gave him a side-eye. He would. He had. And with my luck, he’d do it again before we even pulled out of the driveway.
My phone rang as we walked to our cars, Grey Realty flashing on my screen. I glanced at Aaron one last time. “Think before you post, Lanier. Don’t forget: I have a video of you ironing pantsless, singing Brooks and Dunn’s ‘My Maria’ like you were auditioning for American Idol.”
His mouth fell open and his eyes squinted in challenge.
I waved him off as I put the phone to my ear. “Hello.”
“Where are you?” Amber, Grey Realty’s head administrative assistant/intern/college student/social media specialist, whispered across the line.
“I’m leaving the Maplewood house. What’s up?”
“Well, um, it’s almost six and I need to clock out, but there’s a man in the waiting room. What am I supposed to do?”
My forehead crinkled as I climbed into my car. “What man? And why are you whispering?”
She kept her voice low. “I think his name is Michael Bowen or something. I can’t remember. He told me not to bother you, but he’s been waiting for over an hour for you to get back here and I have an appointment at the tanning bed at six-thirty. What do I do?”
“I don’t know a Michael Bo—” The words died on my tongue as a huge smile stretched my lips. “Bowen Michaels?”
“Maybe? Hot guy, dark hair, beard, seriously wicked eyes.”
“Suit?” My stomach somersaulted.
“White button-down with the sleeves rolled up. He brought a cactus.”
