He exhaled. “I hear you, but those two have got the exclusive on this building. Trina has promised to take two percentage points off her commission.”
“That’s not a big deal. She’s representing both sides of the potential sale.”
“This is true.”
“And—an extra bonus for her—she’s always had a thing for you. Big time.”
He responded with a wicked smile. “They all do. It’s a curse I live with.”
Quinn pretended to gag.
Suddenly, there was a loud knock on Bash’s driver-side window. Sitting in her seat, Quinn almost jumped out of her skin. He rolled down his window, but just an inch.
“Hey, Bash!” Trina’s pearly white smile gleamed—until she spotted Quinn. “Oh, I didn’t know you’d be here too, Quincy.”
“Yeah, I’m here,” she answered, not bothering to correct her.
“Just give us a sec.” Bash rolled the window back up in her face before turning his attention to his sister. “What’s up?”
“That girl’s been saying my name wrong on purpose since Girl Scouts.” Quinn whipped off her seat belt. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Hey, wait a minute.” He tugged her sleeve as she started to exit his truck. “Just say the word and we’ll get out of here. Nothing’s worth you being made to feel bad.”
She opened the truck door. “Ugh, don’t be nice to me. It makes it harder to stoke my hate fire.”
He laughed as they both hopped out of his truck.
And there stood Trina Pemberley, Tricia’s twin, identical in almost every way. Both had medium-length, bobbed ash-blonde hair and the same wide-set hazel eyes. They favored pastel-palette Chanel suits and long nails painted rose-gold. Quinn once overheard someone say the two coordinated every aspect of their look so as to remain “on brand” for their business. But Quinn remembered them from third grade, when they moved into town, before they became Northern Virginia’s wonder twin–powered real estate team, and they always matched, even then: same clothes, same hairstyle, same hella-awful attitudes.
Even so, Quinn could always tell them apart. Most who grew up with them could because, although neither was exactly known for being particularly pleasant, Trina was the one with more edge. She was in charge, the sister whose smile never reached her eyes—because something darker already resided there.
“I’m telling you right now, you’re going to love this place—I just know it!” Trina touched Bash’s arm as they walked inside the building. “By the way, no need to thank me, but FYI? You’re getting the first look-see, except for the other realtors of course. As of right now, you have your choice of units, but I’m telling you, they won’t last. I expect we’ll be sold out in a few weeks.”
“Appreciate your time.” He gave her his tight, polite smile, the one he reserved for judgy church ladies.
Well, glad Mom and Dad didn’t raise stupid. Bash may be a flirt, but at least he’s not courting crazy.
They walked into the elevator, and Trina leaned over to press the button for the top floor, making sure to brush up against Bash in spite of there being plenty of room in the lift. Quinn summoned all her willpower so as not to roll her eyes into the back of their sockets.
“There are only eighteen units in the whole building, and because of the factory’s structure, most have awesome views of the whole town. You can’t build this high in Vienna anymore—the town council won’t allow it—but back in the forties, they made an exception, for the war effort. It’s a shame because unless the building’s this high up, you can’t get views like this. Personally, I like the top the best. Don’t you agree, Bash?”
Quinn coughed into her hand. Her brother pretended not to catch Trina’s tacky innuendo.
The elevators doors opened, and Tricia was waiting for them—same outfit as Trina, only a different color.
“Hey, Bash!” Her eyes twinkled like a crazed cheerleader’s—until she spotted his sister. “Oh, Quinn. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
At least this one got my name right. “Yep, same here. But my brother asked me to come.”
Her face brightened. “That means you’re serious, if you’re bringing family along. Am I right?”
Bash opened his mouth to answer, but the other sister got there first.
“Well, of course he’s serious. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have called me for a tour,”
Trina butted in, threading her arm through Bash’s. He went along, being a gentleman.
“Bash, why don’t I show you around. Let’s start here.” She waved toward the kitchen like a double-jointed Vanna White. “You’re going to love this smart fridge. I swear, it does everything except make you dinner.”
There were only two apartments on the top floor, which meant the loft space they were touring was mammoth, much bigger than Quinn’s cozy farmhouse. She was about to take a look around, but Tricia placed herself in Quinn’s path.
“So, we’re all kumbaya-happy over here?”
Quinn’s head jerked. “Uh yeah—why wouldn’t I be?”
“You know, you’re not always going to have your big brother around to protect you.”
Wow. Some people won’t let their high school days—or attitude—die the quiet death they deserve.
“Are you serious right now? Protect me from what exactly?”
Tricia breezed by her questions. “Just don’t get any ideas about Scott, and you and I will be fine.”
Quinn choked on her laugh, whacking her chest with her fist.
Tricia’s face soured. “I mean it. Leave him alone.”
Blowing out an exasperated breath, Quinn tried to think how to answer in a way that would finally get through the woman’s thick skull. “Tricia, have I done or said anything to indicate I would go after him … ever?”
Tricia crossed her arms in front of her, doubt coloring her delicate features. “No, but sometimes an ex becomes a lot more appealing once he’s off the market.”
“I promise you, that is never, ever going to happen.” Because those were the longest three weeks of my life.
Tricia didn’t seem appeased. “I don’t know. Something’s up with him.”
“What do you mean?”
She stared at Quinn without seeing her. “Maybe you’re not the one I should be worried about.”
True story. Your future mother-in-law uses your picture as a personal dartboard.
Tricia kept talking. “It’s just … Scott is trying to be his own man, and I’m trying to help him with that.”
Quinn couldn’t believe Tricia was confiding in her. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
“I guess that depends on who you ask.”
What the heck does that mean?
Trina cleared her throat from the kitchen, glaring daggers at her sister.
“Forget I said anything.” Tricia grabbed Quinn’s wrist, panic-stricken. “I mean it. We never had this conversation.”
Quinn placed her hand on top of Tricia’s. “I promise. I won’t say a word. I hope everything works out. Really.”