Page 15 of Bad Boy Bachelor Christmas
He arched an eyebrow and stared up at me. “Could you be any more cryptic?”
The house was gorgeous. It had plenty of character with all the original fixtures inside, including original hardwood floors stained in a deep cherry color, matching crown molding and window trims, multiple built-ins in various rooms of the same wood, high ceilings, and a grand feeling of opulence.
“When are you listing it?” I asked.
“Stagers are coming in this week. Then I want it on the market for the first week of December. Why?”
“Put some lights on it.”
“Huh?”
“Christmas lights.” I handed him back his phone. “You’re selling someone their future home. At the end of the day, you’re selling a feeling, right?”
He blinked at me.
I chuckled and clamped a large hand on his shoulder. “Listen, as soon as you stop thinking of your listings as items to sell and more as moments and memories for your clients to make, you’re going to close more deals. I know it’s a weird mental shift, but creating afeelingfor your buyers is where the money is at. If you’re going to show this property during the Christmas season, deck it out. Literally. Lights. Maybe a tree in the large bay window in the front. A reindeer or two on the lawn. It needs more curb appeal.”
He grumbled. “I hate when you say smart things.”
Maurice turned from the stove with two plates of steaming omelettes accompanied by perfectly cooked bacon and slices of multigrain toast. My mouth began to water immediately, but I frowned when I saw Justin’s generous serving.
“You don’t need to give him so much food,” I told Maurice before patting the top of Justin’s head. “He’s just a little guy. Scrape some of his onto my plate.”
Justin swatted my hand away. “Fuck off.”
Maurice set the plates down on the island. “It’s always so nice when you visit, Justin.”
“At least someone appreciates my company.” Justin tucked in to eat his meal, drawing up a stool and brandishing a fork.
Maurice’s gaze, full of humor, flicked to me. “It’s like having kids in the house all over again.”
I chuckled.
“Hey,” Justin said.
My chef eased his way out of the kitchen. “You two eat up. I’ll be back at lunch. Oh, and Justin?”
Justin looked up with a mouthful of steaming hot omelette. He fanned his mouth and grimaced in pain. “Yes?”
“North is right. If you want someone to spend millions on a house, show them the home itcouldbe.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Neither of you are realtors, you know. I shouldn’t come here looking for advice.”
“Then why do you?” I asked.
“Because you’re a billionaire,” Justin admitted. “Obviously, you’re doing something right.”
“Smartest thing you’ve said all morning. Now eat up.” I clapped him hard on the back, rocking him forward on his stool, and pinched his tricep. “You need to bulk up for the winter season.”
Justin scowled playfully but ate his eggs. When I only had a few mouthfuls left, he coughed and sputtered and nodded to the kitchen doorway. I hadn’t even heard her come in, but Winter stood there, bundled up for the cold, a turquoise knit scarf around her throat that brightened her complexion and showed off her rosy cheeks.
“Morning,” she said somewhat shyly. “I’m sorry to interrupt. North, could I speak to you for a moment?”
Justin cleared his plate and got out of his chair, claiming he had work to do on the heritage house before giving Winter a gracious nod and slipping out.
I invited her to come sit, but she stayed standing on the other side of the island.
“Yes?” I prompted.
