Mr. H.O.A. by Carina Taylor (readera ebook reader .TXT) 📗

didn't seem to understand was that this office would end up the same way as his current team: struggling, burnt out, and in need of a good therapist. It wasn't the office or the brand I'd built for myself that really made my team successful. It was the people I surrounded myself with. I was careful who I took on in my office, and I was willing to do the work to make sure they were the right fit. Every realtor in the Riverly Realty Group had a phenomenal work ethic. They put in the time and effort that made our office stand out.

Sterling? He didn't believe in the old 'time and effort' method. He believed in a quick turnaround and a fast check. He wasn't concerned with accurate appraisals or working with loan officers to help his clients find the perfect fit for them. Sterling didn't have many return customers, which was why I wanted to know where he came up with the money to try to buy the office. Perhaps he didn't even have it and was only talking big, hoping to unnerve me.

The man had an unhealthy obsession with watching me fail. Any mistake I made, whether it was remembering the wrong address or forgetting a couple's sixth child's name, Sterling was sure to remind me.

At least one good thing came of the meeting with Sterling. It was the perfect reminder that it was time for me to find a permanent place to sleep at night. I'd parked my car at the bank the night before, knowing I had a nine o'clock meeting with Sterling and the Stevens. I'd almost been caught.

I didn't need anything spectacular. In fact, I wanted somewhere as affordable as possible.

I knew of a house that might be going to foreclosure in two weeks. Depending on how many people were interested, I'd be able to buy a house sooner than my predicted three months. If the house I was eyeing did go to auction, I'd be waiting, check in hand.

I hated debt—with a passion. Even if it meant a mortgage. Which was why I was careful with my money. When the right house popped up on the market, I was going to buy it—with cold, hard, germy cash.

In the meantime, I needed somewhere to stay, since Mercier decided he needed luxury apartments.

Mercier. 

Mercier seemed to be the center of my troubles. I had not heard from him regarding the deposits.

I opened my laptop and typed another formal email, inquiring after the funds, reminding him that he was the one who decided to demo the building, sight unseen.

Three hours later, I still had no reply.

CHAPTER FOUR

Homeowners Association Rule #29:

Cars made before 2015 must be parked in the garage.

I spent my mornings working at the local Department of Human Services, but late afternoons I got to put on my soccer mom hat and drive my kids around. I loved it.

The overloaded foster system was struggling under the number of kids in Oregon in need of a safe home. It had even gotten to the point where a lot of kids were put up in hotels throughout the state with a social worker until they could find a place.

Sharon and Rob ran the group home where I volunteered. They were a sweet couple that I got to know during my senior year of high school. My best friend Riley had lived in their group home her senior year, so I’d spent a considerable amount of time with them.

They were kind, giving, and busy. There were twelve kids at the home at any given time, so they needed all the help they could get. I spent the afternoons picking up kids from sports and any other extracurricular activities. Sharon and Rob were adamant that each child be involved in some kind of activity after school—whether it was a sport, band, or a book club, they wanted each child to explore a hobby of some sort. We were on summer break, so most of the activities consisted of tennis lessons, baseball, and theater tryouts for the fall play.

I pulled into the drive, honking my horn. Three of the kids, Grace, Payton, and Clay were trying out for the high school drama club and I was their designated driver. Beauty and the Beast was planned for the fall, so tryouts began in June. Surprisingly, the kids were quite good, and I hoped for Grace's sake that she landed the part of Belle. The part she'd been practicing for the entire past month. It was her senior year, and she was looking to add theater arts to her resume. Payton and Clay were both freshmen and would gladly take any part they could get as long as it meant being close to their crushes.

Before I had the chance to climb out of the car to make sure everyone was ready, Payton and Clay came running out of the house, pushing and shoving at each other as they jumped in the van, clambering over the middle seat to sit in the back row.

Another small body climbed into the car.

Maya sat in the middle seat. I turned around to look at her. Black curly hair framed her round six-year-old cheeks. "Maya, what are you doing?"

"Sharon said I could come with you! Can we go to the park?"

"Then sit in the booster seat and get buckled up—and yes, we’ll go play at the park."

With an eye roll and a heavy sigh, Maya climbed into the booster seat. "I'm too old for this."

"No, you're not. Besides, it keeps you safe when we're driving."

Maya grumbled as she buckled herself into the seat. The front door slammed as Grace jumped into the front seat. "Can I drive on the way back?"

"Let me think about that for ten years." I pulled out of the driveway, careful to steer around the pink bike at the end.

"Hey, I'm seventeen. Rob says I can try for my license before school starts."

"Then you let Rob try to survive your driving."

"It was one little scratch. So