Saturdays are the busiest day of the week for anyone who works in real estate. I typically take clients to an open house or a private viewing around 9 a.m. and don't wrap up until after 6 p.m. On days when I have to staff an open house, it's even longer for set up and clean up.

Today is no different. On my way to work, I leave a message for a potential buyer of the Kerry Park home, but it's a longshot that they'll bite. I've worked with this family for three weeks, and they still haven't found their dream house on the Eastside. I talked Julia, the wife, into being open to properties on the Westside, and she agreed to consider the Queen Anne neighborhood because she could ride her bike to work, but that's it—no Ballard, no Beacon Hill and no Blue Ridge.

Later that day, I show three homes in Redmond, two in Bothell and one in Kirkland. The good news is one client is ready to put an offer in on a $1.1 million home. We return to my office just after 4 o'clock so I can write it up with he and his wife.

After that hour-long process, I walk them to the door. "I'll be in touch as soon as I hear from the listing agent, but I think we have a good shot at this one."

The woman smiles. "I hope so. Thanks."

I bid them farewell, and Tasha stops me before I return to my office. "I have Dr. Goldman on the phone. He's returning your call."

"Patch him through." On my way back to my office, I bump into a grinning Fig.

"Guess what?" She looks like Dr. Seuss with her maniacal smile. "I have a buyer for the Kerry Park property."

I stop. "Do you seriously need to gloat like we're in elementary school?"

"I don't need to," she replies with a sly grin. "But it's oh so fun."

I breeze past her and sigh. I'd give anything to have a buyer for that illustrious property, too, and I might have a nibble with the guy waiting on line one.

I turn into my office and shut the door, then hit the speaker button. "Dr. Goldman, how are you?"

"Fine, thanks," he responds. "I got a message you'd called."

"Yes, I might've found your perfect home," I begin, tucking my chair under the desk. "But it's in Queen Anne."

"I know Julia said we're open to that neighborhood, but it's a long drive across the bridge for me to get to the hospital," he lets out in a long sigh.

I find the description on my computer and Alex's photo pops up as the listing agent.

While I've been swamped with work all day, I haven't been able to get her off my mind. I secretly hoped I'd run into her at an open house or something, but what are the chances of that happening since it hasn't occurred in the nearly four years she's been an agent?

"Does it have an outdoor kitchen?" Dr. Goldman asks.

"It does." I stop staring at her perfect hair and piercing green eyes and return to the task at hand. "It also has four bedrooms, four and a half baths, an bonus room that could be used as an office, fully furnished basement and a formal dining room."

"What about the appliances?" he asks. "Most of the older homes on Queen Anne need a lot of work."

"The entire house was remodeled last year, which is when they put in the outdoor kitchen." I click on the photos. "They built a pergola in May and installed heat lamps, so you could entertain all year long."

"That's what I'm hoping to find," he responds. "What's the price?"

"It's listed at $4.3 million." I know this is the hard part to stomach, but I don't want to sugar coat it. "Before you say anything, I wouldn't have brought this house up if I didn't think it was exactly what you and your family are looking for. Would you just tour it?"

"I'll see if we can get there tomorrow." He seems hesitant. "But if we're going to make the trek, can you line up a couple more homes for us to tour? We have to be done before two—my son has a soccer game in Newport Hills."

"Yes," I reply enthusiastically. "I'll find some comparable homes for us to look at tomorrow. I'll send you this listing along with two or three more."

"Thank you."

With that, he hangs up, and I'm ecstatic. I know it's well over their price range, but it really is a good match otherwise.

I drive home that night in the pounding rain and decide to take a hot bath. I pour a glass of wine, remembering last night when I shared a couple of bottles with Alex. I'm still not sure what I should do about her, but I can't stop thinking about her.

I slide into the warm, bubbly water and let out a long breath through my nose. Maybe if I mentally list the pros and cons that would help. She's smart, funny, beautiful and has a playful side as well as a serious one. She's mature and seems to have learned a great deal about life in an unconventional way. I like talking to her; I like the expressions she makes when I say something surprising or when she takes her first sip of wine. I like that she's curious about my life but not in a nosey sort of way. I also like how confident she is in her work and in her personal life. She could've tried to convince me to give us a chance last night; instead, she answered my questions, and then walked away, leaving the decision about how to proceed up to me.

The cons are obvious. I might be able to get past the whole competitor thing especially since we don't typically sell or buy in the same neighborhoods. Even if we did, I'm professional enough to not gloat like Fig if I win a bidding war for my clients or sulk like Neil if I lose one. It's the felon thing I'm having trouble wrapping my head around. Alex can't change her past; she can only move forward in a positive direction, which she has done since being released four years ago. I can't imagine what it's like to have the stigma of being a felon. I'm sure anyone who knows or finds out would judge her. Is that what I'm doing—am I judging her?

I have to remind myself that it's not like we're moving in together or talking about forever. I'm attracted to her; she's attracted to me. Why can't I give it a shot? I can admit to myself that I want to feel her lips against mine. I want her touches to be more than incidental. Maybe I'm afraid that if we hit it off, I'll have to face my concerns when I'm already invested in taking a stab at a relationship. That's why it's critical that I grapple with these issues before I enter something with her even if it's purely physical.

I drain my wine and duck deep under the water. Maybe I can drown my cares away.

Unless Alex has a colleague staffing the Kerry Park mansion, I know I'm going to run into her today at the open house. My guess is that it'll be crowded, and she'll have to focus on potential buyers, not just me. I could probably get away with pleasantries, and so I don't rehearse anything I'd like to say. Just like Alex's attention will be on other agents and clients, mine will be on the Goldman family. They are my best shot at an offer on this place, but I learned a long time ago not to get too hyped about clients on a strict budget.

"Lovely to see you again." Julia Goldman shakes my hand, then looks over my shoulder. "This is a great neighborhood."

"In a highly regarded school district," I add, knowing they have three kids under the age of 12. "I'm sure you noticed the sidewalks on both sides of the street, and of course, nothing beats the view."

They glance over the ledge at the cityscape.

"It's breathtaking," she responds.

"Not bad," Dr. Goldman adds in a somewhat pessimistic tone.

I know it's over budget, so he doesn't want to stoke himself up for disappointment.

"Let me tell you a little more about the house before we go inside."

We cross the street, and I tick off five features I know they'll appreciate. She's going to fall in love when she sees the remodeled master bath, and he's going to be wowed by the outdoor kitchen.

"It's just the price, Piper…" He shakes his head. "If this place is as good as it sounds, it's going to go for over asking, and we're not willing to budge on any offer."

"I understand." Better to agree with him than to argue before they even step foot inside.

"Welcome," a young man greets us at the entrance. "Thanks for coming. Here's a detailed flyer about the house."

"Is Al—" I catch myself. "Is A.P. Vause here?" There's a pang in my chest at the thought of her not being at the open house. That ought to tell me a little about my feelings.

"Yes, ma'am." He nods and flashes his mouthful of braces. "She's inside. I'm just the intern."

"Thank you." I smile at him, then walk inside and scan the room for the listing agent.

It's not hard to find her in the center of the living room with several people around. She stands out like a diamond among stones, and I can hardly take my eyes off her. I won't pretend to like the fact that another agent is touching her on the arm and laughing as if Alex just said the funniest thing in the world.

"This is stunning," Julia says.

I tear my eyes away from Alex and smile at my clients. "Let me show you around."

I take them through the house, and it isn't until we move into the kitchen when Alex spots me. Her lips tic up in a flash and she holds my gaze for mere seconds before returning her attention to the woman next to her.

"Adam, look—a kitchen with maple cabinets just like I've always wanted." Julia has no poker face.

"What brand are the appliances?"

"Viking," I respond. "Top of the line. It even has a large dual-zone wine refrigerator around the corner." I point to the built-in cooler.

She peeks inside. "This would be perfect for our bottles from Provence."

Dr. Goldstein points towards the backyard. "Is the outdoor kitchen through this door?"

"Yes." I glance back at Alex once more before proceeding outside.

As expected, Dr. Goldman's face lights up when he sees the grill, sink, ledger stone façade and pergola. "Is this a firepit?"

I nod. "It's connected to the gas line, so no need for wood or propane."

"Wow," he says. "We haven't seen anything even remotely like this."

I'd like to say I told you so, but I simply smile and rattle off a few other features of the outdoor kitchen.

For the next 30 minutes, I take them through the house, and I can see they've fallen in love. If it were up to Julia, we'd write an offer today. It's her husband who will need a polite shove. One of my favorite tactics is to give my clients as much time as they want to explore on their own, so I do exactly that with the Goldmans.

"I'm going to head back downstairs," I announce. "Take your time; go through the rooms a second time. I'll be in the living room when you're ready."

"This is a dream house, Piper," she coos. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I jog down the stairs and immediately spot Alex, standing alone and typing something on her phone. "Hi," I say, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice with that one-word greeting.

"Hey." She looks up from her phone. "Do they like it?"

"What's not to like?" I reply, smoothing my hands down my dress. "The price is the only sticking point."

"Not for everyone," she says. "I just talked to two couples who are going to put an offer in tomorrow."

"Ugh, I was afraid of that." There's no way the Goldmans are going to agree to go over the listing price.

She takes a step closer, and I can smell her vanilla perfume with just a hint of cedar—it's the very essence of fall with a feminine touch. "You look nice."

I blink up at her. "So do you."

Her smile might seem ordinary, but it's the most beautiful one I've ever seen. I'm envious that other people get to benefit from this magnificent smile—it's not just for me.

"Would you maybe want to grab drinks or dinner or something later tonight or tomorrow or whenever?" rolls helplessly out of my mouth.

Her chin juts back like my request was unexpected, but she quickly recovers. "Yeah, sure."

I'm captivated by those green eyes.

"I won't be done until around seven." She glances at her watch. "Maybe dinner somewhere on Queen Anne?"

I nod. "Text me the place, and I'll meet you."

Once again, she flashes her pearly whites. "Ok."

Dr. Goldman approaches me. "Piper, would you mind if we looked at the backyard again?"

"Not at all." I follow them through the patio door, then turn to watch Alex still beaming at me. I could get lost in that smile.

Despite Alex being my competitor and, well, a felon, I can admit to myself that I like her. I like her confidence, her intelligence, her voice, her body, her ability to communicate and her openness with me about her past. I also like that she's interested in getting to know me better. I want to spend all night talking to her and when we're done, I want her to kiss me. That thought sends an electric surge through my body.

If I don't give this a shot, I'll regret it, so here goes nothing. I take a deep breath before walking into the restaurant she chose and immediately find Alex at a table near the window.

She lifts her hand. "Hi."

I hang my jacket on the coat rack, and then walk over to her. "Hi, thanks for getting us a table."

"No problem." She slides the drink menu towards me. "I just got here like five minutes ago."

I glance around at the patrons dining at the banquettes along the wall or sitting at the bar. "I'm glad you did; this place is packed."

"I've never been, but the reviews were good."

A server approaches us. "Welcome to Grappa. Can I start you off with something to drink?"

I quickly review the menu. "I'll have the barrel-aged Negroni."

"A Dark & Stormy for me, please," Alex orders, then turns to me. "How was the rest of your day?"

I lean forward. "The Goldmans are going to put an offer in on the Kerry Park house!"

"Good." She adjusts her glasses. "I hope it works out for them."

"We're going to talk first thing tomorrow morning." I drape my scarf over the back of the chair. "I'm guessing anything under asking isn't going to get a second look."

She lets out a little sound as if she's trying to disguise a laugh. "I don't say this to be rude, Piper, but it's probably going to go for closer to $4.5 million."

I chew on the inside of my mouth and nod.

"But we'll entertain all reasonable bids," she finishes.

The server returns with our cocktails.

Alex raises her glass but doesn't bring it to her mouth as if she's preparing to toast. "I'm hoping the reason you wanted to meet was to talk more than just about the Kerry Park property."

I feel a blush creeping up my neck. "Yes."

Her lips tic up as she clinks her glass against mine. "To the future."

"Cheers." I take a sip of my cocktail. "Wow, that's good."

She takes a second sip, then sets the glass on the table. "So is this."

"I want to…" I begin, blush now landing firmly on my cheeks. Surely, I'm not going to say kiss you even though that's true. "I'd like to get to know you better."

She smirks as if she can read my mind. "I'd like to get to know you better, too."

"Any questions about the menu?" the server asks.

Alex's eyes are still glued to mine despite the waitress' interruption, and I need a moment to compose myself. "Um, yeah. Will you order first?"

She finally looks away. "Is there something you're particularly known for?"

The server points to the menu. "The grilled scallops are delicious. So is our lamb burger."

"I'll have the scallops, then."

"I'll do the lamb burger," I say.

"Would you like hummus and pita or French fries with the burger?"

I shrug. "Surprise me."

She walks away, and Alex's grin returns as her gaze settles back on me. "I'm assuming you've had time to think about what's happening here."

I place a starched napkin on my lap and continue staring down, wondering how to begin this conversation. I look up and the words, "I can't stop thinking about you, Alex," tumble out of my mouth.

Her eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly.

Did I say that out loud? No, no, no. "Sorry, I…"

"It's ok," she lets out a soft chuckle. "I know the feeling."

I shake my head, frustrated with myself for being so transparent. I would've preferred easing into such a confession. "I still have so many questions."

Alex shrugs. "Ask."

"The work stuff is the easiest to tackle, I guess."

She takes a sip of her cocktail and nods.

"How often do you represent clients in Seattle and Bellevue?"

"I don't know…" She raises her shoulders again. "Maybe two or three times a month."

"That's what I thought; otherwise, I would've seen you around," I note around a sip of my Negroni.

"Recently I've been getting more hits in Seattle though," she admits. "And I'm not going to turn them down."

"I wouldn't expect you to." Though I'd like her to. "What are we going to do when we're competing for the same homes?"

"I'm respectful of all agents who work for opposing firms," Alex begins. "I mean, I don't like losing a house to another realtor, but I've learned to get over it pretty quickly. The same would be true when you and I bid on the same properties."

I suppose she's right—there's no reason to get especially worked up if I lost a house to the woman I'm seeing. The thought of seeing each other sends a flurry of anxious yet eager butterflies to my stomach.

"What if I slip and call you Alex?"

"I love the way you say my name." She grins, let's that feeling linger for a moment, and then turns serious. "But you can't—at least not around other people."

"What if I do?"

"Brush it off." She shrugs. "I'll do the same."

Our server arrives with our food, and we dig in, commenting here and there about how tasty it is. Alex asks if I'd like a glass of wine with dinner, and I acquiesce. The small talk is short-lived before we dive back into my other questions.

"I'm sure the bigger topic is about my past," she says, setting her fork down and steepling her fingers.

"I'll admit it's pretty difficult to wrap my head around," I acknowledge.

"I highly doubt I'm going to come home after work one day and you're going to greet me with, 'About your time in prison…'"

The thought of Alex coming home to me after a long day makes me smile. "No, I don't think that's how it would surface."

She takes a sip of wine. "Do you think it'll come up at all?"

I swallow a bite of my burger. "Only when I have a question or something."

She steals a French fry. "I think I've proven that I'm willing to answer any of your questions about my past."

I nod. "You have."

She picks up her fork, but her eyes don't leave mine. "What I won't stand for is you pulling out my time in prison in prime moments of suckiness or when we're arguing."

"Who says we'll argue?"

"We're two fiercely competitive and independent women." She grins. "There might be a time when an argument arises."

We're talking as if we're about to enter a relationship. While that excites me to no end, isn't it premature? Or does Alex feel as I do—like that would be the most natural progression in the world despite having only reconnected recently.

I lean forward without breaking eye contact. "I promise not to use your prison time as a weapon."

"Good." She nods once, then returns to her scallops. "What other questions can I answer?"

How soon can we kiss? I think to myself. "When can we see each other again?" I say instead.

"Monday nights are usually good for me," she replies.

"Mondays for realtors are like regular people's Saturdays."

"Exactly." She takes the last bite of her meal. "So, Monday, dinner at my place?"

"I'd like that." I sip my wine.

I don't want this evening to end—I want to keep talking and kiss and then kiss some more. "I noticed there was an acoustic session at the coffeehouse a few doors down," I begin. "Wanna pop in and listen to some music after this?"

"I wish I could…" She glances at her watch. "But I have to take care of something tonight."

It has to be close to 10 o'clock. What could she possibly have to take care of at this late hour?

I try to hide my disappointment behind my wine glass. "Oh, ok."

"But I'm looking forward to Monday," she finishes.

"Me, too." I take one last sip as the server approaches.

"Anything else?"

"No, thank you."

She sets the billfold on the table. "I'll leave this for whenever you're ready."

I reach for the check. "I've got it."

"I'm happy to pay," Alex says, extending her arm a second too late.

"You paid for the pizza the other night." I pull a credit card out of my wallet, then quickly review the check before placing it in the billfold.

"Thank you," she replies.

We talk about our busy Sunday ahead, and then she walks me to my car. My pulse quickens, thinking if ever there was a time for us to kiss, it would be now.

"This is me." I click my fob and the lights flash on my Acura.

She zips her coat. "I'm glad we did this."

"Me, too." I approach the driver's side and turn to her. "Do you need a ride?"

She shakes her head and points down the street. "I'm only a block away." She reaches for me, pulling me into a tight embrace.

"You smell really good," I mumble into her neck as I take in her somewhat familiar scent.

"I swear by Kiehl's." She pulls back and smiles. "The lotion keeps my hands moist all day."

"I'll have to try it."

"Thanks again for picking up the tab." She leans forward, kissing my cheek. "Monday night's on me."

I should just lean forward and kiss her. "If you insist." But for some reason, I don't.

She squeezes my arm, then walks backwards down the sidewalk as she says, "Good night, Piper. Drive safe."

"You, too." I get in my car and hang my head.

What the fuck is my problem? I could've kissed her just as easily as she could've kissed me. I don't know why I want her to be the one to make the first move. Maybe she's waiting for me to do it; after all, I'm the one who's more hesitant about moving forward.

There is no way I misread the situation. We were never discussing a potential friendship—we were talking about a relationship or at the very least, dating. I guess I'll have to wait 48 hours to find out what her intentions are.

Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews! Oh, and for the person who felt bad for Larry, please understand that Piper wanted to break up with him in person. Larry forced her hand to end it on the phone. You're welcome to pity him, but that's squarely on him. For the person who doesn't like reading A.P. Vause, I'm right there with you. I had to come up with another name besides Alex for her not to be found out as a felon with a quick internet search. I didn't want to go all-out and change her name entirely, so I went with A.P. Note that Piper can't call her that either. 😊 There are eight chapters of this story.