She blinks at me, then finally shakes her head, mumbles something under her breath that I can’t quite hear, then chuckles. “Well, we can’t have you not being pretty.”
“Great. Let’s go.” I gesture for her to lead me out the door, but she rolls her eyes.
“I need my jacket and handbag. I’ll meet you outside.”
“You might want to change your shoes too. We’ll be walking a lot.”
Both Cami and Addie laugh. “These are my walking shoes,” she replies as she walks back into the office, then returns less than thirty seconds later with her bag, jacket, and shiny lips.
Great. Now I can’t stop staring at her lips. I’m pretty sure women do that on purpose.
“Call me if you need me,” Cami says to Addie, who just waves as we walk out of the restaurant and to my car. I open the door for her, then walk around and lower myself into the seat and pull out my phone.
“I have the appointments, with the addresses, in my calendar,” I say as I pull the information up and hand the phone to Cami. “You be the navigator. Where are we going?”
She rattles off the address, then sits back silently as I drive to the first house. Cami and I have never had an uncomfortable silence in the twenty years I’ve known her, and I refuse to start now.
“How’s business?”
“Great.”
“How are you?”
“Can’t complain.”
She smooths her hand down her skirt and shifts in the seat, but doesn’t elaborate.
“I like your nail polish,” I say, nodding at the pink on her fingers, and for the first time, that dimple in her cheek winks as she smiles, just a little bit.
“Thank you.” She points just ahead. “That’s it.”
“Got it.” I pull up to the curb, and before I can tell her to wait, Cami shoves out of the car and walks up the sidewalk to the front door, where a Realtor is already waiting.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Palazzo.”
“I’m Cami LaRue, a friend of Mr. Palazzo’s,” Cami says immediately. The women lead me into the home.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Lacey. This is a 1956 Craftsman-style home,” she begins, and leads us through the small house that probably hasn’t been updated since the eighties.
“It’s too small,” Cami says when we’re back in the car and pulling away. “And the pink master bathroom is so not you.”
“We agree on that,” I reply with a nod. “I don’t need a huge place. It’s just me.”
“I know, but you don’t need a broom closet either,” she replies as she searches for the next address. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll snoop through your phone, look for pictures and messages from the many girls you date?”
“Yes, I’m horrified,” I reply, my voice dry. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t date much, and second, you’re not the snooping type. But if you do want to snoop, go for it. I don’t have any secrets from you, Cami.”
“I was being a smartass, Landon,” she says, then gives me the address. “I don’t know where this one is.”
“I think it’s in a newer subdivision. Can you pull it up on the map app?”
“Newer is better. Hopefully there won’t be a pink bathroom.” She wrinkles her adorable nose and directs me where we’re going. It’s not as far away as I thought.
“So far, so good,” Cami says as she steps out of the car.
“I wish you’d let me open the door for you,” I say as I join her on the sidewalk.
“Why?” She frowns and glances from the house to me. “This isn’t a date.”
I simply shake my head and follow her up the steps to the front porch.
“Oh, you could put a great rocking chair out here,” Cami says as I see a note on the door, telling us to come in and look around. The property manager had to rush off to an emergency at another property.
“Let’s check it out,” I say, and lead us inside. This one already feels so much better than any of the others I’ve seen. It definitely is newer, it doesn’t smell weird, and the floor plan is open.
“This is it,” Cami says confidently.
“You just stepped inside.”
“I’m telling you, that last one was haunted. This one is perfect.”
“You didn’t say anything about that last one being haunted.” I stop and stare back at her, but she’s wandering around the living room.
“I didn’t want to scare you, in case you decided to live there. But I would never visit you there.”
“But you will visit me here?”
“I don’t know, Landon; the last time I rang your doorbell, you snapped at me like I was trying to sell you on religion or vacuums.”
My stomach clenches. “Cami, I told you, I’m sorry for that.”
“It’s fine,” she says quickly, and walks into the kitchen, the click of her heels echoing through the empty space. “These countertops are to die for!”
I follow her into the kitchen and nod. “It’s a big kitchen for someone who doesn’t cook.”
“Maybe someone will cook for you,” she mumbles, not looking at me.
Everything feels off with her today. It’s felt off since that morning when she showed up unexpectedly at my parents’ house, waking me up and looking all sexy and sweet, and I didn’t have my wits about me.