He wasn’t a bad cook, but he didn’t particularly enjoy cooking if it was just for him—any more than he bothered about eating sometimes if it was just him, which put him in the same category as Kate. Only she didn’t eat because usually she overworked herself to the bone and had no time to eat or no time for a good meal, or she didn’t care because she was already past hunger and looking at the next job on her desk. He’d given her enough shit about it that he pretty well had to make sure he stepped up and looked after himself; otherwise he was being a hypocrite, and she’d be the first to call him on it too. He laughed at that.
When the phone rang a second time, he pushed away the empty plate away, looked at the number, and answered it. “Hey, did you figure out what that number meant?”
“No,” Kate said crossly. “How about a little more explanation?”
“I got nothing,” he said. “It literally was a case of that number damn-near dropping me in my tracks,” he said. “I didn’t like it either because I figured all this woo-woo stuff had gone bye-bye, and I was free and clear.” Hearing the frustration in her voice, he asked, “Where are you?”
“I’m still at the office,” she said. “We had a couple drive-by shooting cases that broke open today but not enough to close them quite yet.”
“Well, that’s good,” he said. “You seem to be busy, as usual.”
“As long as assholes are out there killing each other,” she said, “I won’t run out of work anytime soon.”
“Sorry about that,” he said. “It would be nice to think that they’d take a holiday once in a while to give you a bit of a break when you’re tired.”
“Nah, if they thought I was tired,” she said, “they’d be in there looking to do some serious damage to everybody they hated.”
“Unfortunately that is quite true.”
“Anyway,” she said, “I was just checking to see if you had any clue what that number meant.”
“Nope,” he said cheerfully. “I’m tossing that on your plate.”
“Great,” she said, “the least you can do is make it a useful toss.”
“Always,” he said. “There’s got to be something you can do with it.”
“Not yet,” she said, “not yet.” And, with that, she hung up, as was her custom.
He smiled and looked down at the spaghetti, thinking he should have asked if she’d eaten. He was thinking about calling her back when his phone rang yet again. He groaned and noted it was the Realtor yet again. He answered it and said, “I haven’t made a decision.”
“Well, you need to do it fast,” she said, “because I’ve got other offers coming in.”
“Good,” he said, “you better take them then.”
There was silence at the other end. “Seriously?”
“Sure,” he said. “Depends on which buildings you’re talking about of course. But, if somebody else wants it, I won’t sit here and get into a bidding war over those decrepit shacks.”
“Hey, they’re really good real estate,” she said. “These prices, you know they’ll only go up.”
“That’s the amazing thing,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we’ve been talking these kinds of millions.”
“We are,” she said, “and I’m loving every minute of it.”
“Sure, you get a commission on every sale,” he said, “but I won’t get pushed into anything.”
“That’s fine,” she said comfortably. “If you want something, let me know.”
“Will do.”
And then she stopped and said, “You know, the offers are only on two of them.”
“Yeah? Which two?” he asked, sitting back. When she listed the addresses, he smiled. “What about the other one you mentioned?” he asked and gave her the address for clarification.
“No offers on that one,” she said. “It’s been on and then pulled off the market a couple times.”
“Pulled off why?”