“Excuse me?” Hearing Josie speak of Hunter was a strange twist.

Josie parked her car in the circular drive. “When Mr. Blackwell called me yesterday, he suggested more land.”

And why would he call Gabi’s real estate agent? Wasn’t this her decision?

As the two of them exited the car, a sleek graphite gray Maserati pulled in behind them. Gabi wondered, briefly, if it was the current owner of the home. Then the now familiar frame of Hunter pushed out of the sports car, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His strong jaw and not-quite-perfect hair had the hair on Gabi’s arms standing high.

Josie offered a brilliant smile and moved to join Hunter. “Mr. Blackwell. I’m glad you could join us.”

“My schedule opened up,” Hunter told them.

Gabi attempted to look away as Hunter shook hands with the real estate agent before narrowing the distance between the two of them. He stepped into her personal space as if he’d done so on a regular basis and leaned down to brush his lips to Gabi’s cheek. “Smile,” he whispered.

She did, and then chastised herself for following his demands so easily. “You didn’t tell me you were coming,” she said loud enough for Josie to hear.

“Work became impossible once the media leaked our marriage.”

“You didn’t tell me you were married to Hunter Blackwell,” Josie said with a laugh and a slight pat to Gabi’s arm.

“We . . . we were waiting to announce the union.”

Josie unlocked the front door and started spouting off the home’s qualities while Hunter and Gabi took several paces back.

Gabi leaned close and lowered her voice. “What are you doing here?”

He removed his sunglasses and tucked them inside his jacket. “Expediting our search.”

“Expediting? We haven’t been married a week.”

“The sooner we move in together, the better,” he whispered. Instead of letting her hold back to grumble quietly, Hunter placed a hand to the small of her back and moved the both of them closer to their tour guide.

“There are five bedrooms, six bathrooms in the main house, two bedrooms, one and a half baths in the guest quarters.”

They walked through a foyer that held a double staircase to the second floor. The home was sparsely furnished, indicating the owners didn’t live there.

White walls and marble covered most of the vertical and horizontal surfaces. They stepped into the kitchen, the same cool feeling keeping Gabi from seeing the qualities Josie was touting.

The great room moved into a formal dining room and Gabi found herself frowning.

“You don’t care for it,” Hunter said at her side.

She shook her head. “Too cold, too modern.” Though it wasn’t modern in the hard edge and contrasting colors kind of way.

Josie overheard her. “With furniture the space will warm up.”

Hunter moved farther into the dining room and glanced out the window to the yard beyond. “I don’t think so.”

“You’ll love the upstairs,” Josie continued.

“I don’t think so, Ms. Fortier. Let’s continue to the next home!” Hunter’s exclamation point was accented by his purposeful strides across the room and the gentle nudge of his hand.

He guided Gabi to his car and opened the passenger door. “We’ll follow you,” he told Josie, leaving her little option but to slide behind the wheel of her car and drive away.

“That was rude,” Gabi pointed out when they took the position behind Josie’s car.

“Why?”

“We could have at least looked at the upstairs.”

“To serve what purpose? You didn’t like it.”

“We still could have taken the time to let Josie show us the rest of it.”

“I don’t like wasting my time.”

Gabi turned her gaze out the window. “I don’t remember inviting you to join us.”

“I’ll be living in the home for a year and a half, too, Gabi. I’d like to know what I’m spending my money on.”

“Is that right? You didn’t mention the need to approve the purchase of the new home during our negotiations.”

“We didn’t settle on an approximate price of a new home, either . . . but that doesn’t mean we can’t come to a quick resolution for our temporary home.”

“Temporary for you, a little longer for me.”

He glanced over the edge of his designer sunglasses and caught her eyes. “You choosing our home doesn’t mean I’m giving you a month to find it.”

Josie slowed and indicated a turn into another tree-lined drive; this one had the gates a little farther inside the property line.

“It won’t take a month.”

“It will if you let your agent show you crap.”

They parked behind Josie and started over.

Instead of letting her emotions show on her face, Gabi pasted on a smile and made comments about the next two homes they visited. The colonial wasn’t her style, the Spanish revival didn’t hit the mark.

Hunter followed behind her during the tours and kept his desires to himself.

She didn’t lie well, Hunter decided. Her plastic smile and overexaggerated praise for each property kept them in each house a little longer than needed.

Ms. Fortier would stop at some point and ask, “So you think this is the one?”

Gabi would hedge at that point with a complaint that the kitchen wasn’t large enough or the outside space didn’t flow with the inside.

The woman was stalling and Hunter knew it.