Free Undersold by B. B. Hamel

He gave me that grin again, and I laughed.
    “Well, we did have a productive business meeting. Up until the unproductive part, at least.”
    “Those are always my favorite parts,” he said, teasing.
    “Oh, I prefer the business,” I said, teasing right back.
    He laughed. “Alright then, Miss Woodall.” He rocked back onto his heels, stood up, and walked back to his desk. I took a moment to gather myself, and my things, before standing.
    “Have a good day, Mr. Green,” I said.
    See you tonight , he mouthed to me.
    I pushed open his door, and then closed it behind me. Janice smiled as I came out.
    “How’d it go?” she asked.
    “Oh, same as always,” I replied. Inwardly, I was doing cartwheels. I could feel something in my life shift dramatically. I’d be going to Shane Green’s house that night. Janice smiled and nodded, then went back to work like nothing huge had just happened.

13.
    T he car showed up promptly at seven. I knew Shane had worked late from the text he sent me: Stuck in the office still. Thinking of what I want to do to you later. I had a pretty good idea what that was, and it sent my body into thrills trying to imagine it.
    I got into the back and the car started out. He wasn’t there waiting for me, but that made sense; we were meeting at his place, after all. We moved south toward Center City, but stayed on the East side of Broad Street. After a bit we crossed over into the Old City area. This was one of the most expensive parts of Philadelphia: old, historic brownstones, beautiful townhouses and cobblestone streets. It was called Old City because it was the historic district, and it was where the founding fathers lived. I had walked through this area, and even been in one or two of the older houses on tours, but I’d never been in a modern house anywhere near here. It was known as the rich section of the city, and for good reason. It was quiet and idyllic, and every house looked expensively manicured.
    The car pulled over in front of a cute but simple row home at the end of a small side street. Every house here looked well maintained and beautiful, but his wasn’t any different from the others, which surprised me. I halfway expected some ultra modern construction, something new and sleek to go with his tech company vibe. Instead, it was unassuming and simple, and I absolutely loved it.
    “Go on up, ma’am. He’s expecting you,” the driver said.
    “Thank you,” I replied, and got out.
    I walked up the stoop and rang the bell. It was the only modern part of the house: silver and metallic with a small camera. As soon as I hit the button, the door buzzed, and I let myself in.
    The main hall was cramped but lovely. All hardwood floors, dark and smooth, freshly waxed, plus period-appropriate early American furniture—or at least what I guessed was early American. I had no idea, but whoever did the decorating nailed the feel. It was all wood and more wood, with old brooms, bottles, and other objects I couldn’t identify.
    “I’m in the kitchen,” I heard Shane call out. “Straight ahead, and to your right.”
    I walked down the hall, passed paintings of landscapes and boats, all yellowing and slightly worn. I didn’t recognize any of it, but it was beautiful. I appreciated that Shane wanted to keep his house in the spirit of the area, and cultivated a very appropriate feel. I turned right and the hallway opened up into a large, ultramodern kitchen, all clean lines and stainless steel. It was a bit of a contrast to the more antique feel of the front of the house, but it still somehow seemed natural. Standing in front of the stove was Shane in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark wash jeans, and an apron. He smiled huge as I walked in.
    “You look amazing,” he said, and moved toward me.
    “You look better. That apron really brings out your eyes,” I said with a small laugh.
    “Oh this old thing?” He closed the distance between us, grabbed my hips, pulled me