Free The Aubrey Rules by Aven Ellis

that my parents are still married, and I’m an only child.
    “So how did you get the house sitting job?” Beckett asks, shifting himself so his arm is draped across the back of the sofa. And as he does, his arm ever so lightly grazes my sweater.
    My nerves jump in response. That simple move is torture. For him, he’s stretching, but for me, he’s so physically near, so close, his cologne drifts over me again. But at the same time, since he’s not interested, he’s so far away in reality and I know I’m getting in over my head tonight.
    I should redirect him to the business conversation. But as I study his large brown eyes, the ones who are so interested in hearing what I have to say, I can’t. I just can’t.
    Or more to the point, I won’t.
    “Well, when I came here to visit, I returned home and told my parents I was in love with Chicago,” I say, taking a sip of my wine. “And I said I wanted to move here when I graduated. My parents were all about helping me live my dream, so when my mom found out how much apartments were, she came up with this option. You live in a luxury property with a minimal rent, all utilities paid, to keep the home in show condition. You see, she’s a real estate agent, and she uses a staging company in Seattle. I worked for them last summer, when I turned 21, to get my references for the Chicago branch of the company.”
    “So you move into someone’s house until it sells?” Beckett asks.
    I nod. “Yeah. Now, most of the time you supply some of your own furniture, but it has to match the feel of the space. Right now they wanted a super contemporary vibe for this condo, so mine is in storage and the staging company provided my current furniture. I probably won’t see my furniture for a while since mine is eclectic. My stuff is more suited to a quirky brownstone.”
    “So how long have you been here?”
    “Since I moved here in December,” I say. “So I’ve been basically living out of my suitcase since I arrived. So far, though, no contract offers have been made but I think the unit is overpriced for the market.”
    “If it sells, you move, right? Do you know where you’ll go?”
    “Wherever they assign me,” I say. “Could be anywhere in the city.”
    Suddenly I realize something. If this condo sells, I’ll move away from Beckett.
    I don’t want to be away from him.
    Shit, what the hell is wrong with me? I take another gulp of wine and try to clear my head. I barely know Beckett . This means nothing to him so why am I even going here?
    “This is a smart plan,” Beckett says, bringing me out of my thoughts. “You get to live in the nicest places in town but at a fraction of the cost.”
    “I do,” I say. “You should have seen this one house I lived in last summer in Seattle. It was a floating house.”
    “Floating?” Beckett says, his eyes lighting up.
    “Yes, it was a house moored on Lake Union,” I explain. “It was a luxury home on the water. So incredibly cool. Two stories, boat slip, sunlight in every room. And best of all, it had a rooftop garden. I loved having coffee up there at night, where I could look out over the water and see the stars overhead.”
    “Nice,” Beckett says. “I’d love to have seen that.”
    “I have pictures of it on my Connectivity page so you can,” I say. “We need to connect by the way.”
    “We do, don’t we?” Beckett says, his eyes focused on mine.
    Oh, boy. I’m feeling flushed, and it sure as hell isn’t from the wine I’m sipping.
    “Okay, we’ll connect before I go home,” I say, nodding. Again, funny. Normally I’d reach for my phone and do it right now, but with Beckett, I enjoy talking to him. Watching his expressive face. I don’t want anything interfering with this time together tonight.
    “So what’s the downside to home staging?” Beckett asks.
    “I have to be super neat, which isn’t my strong suit, but it’s worth it.”
    “If the contents of your purse are any indication, I can see