A/N: So, a while back, I was having a conversation with friends, and this story idea popped up. And as one of the said friends was myonlyheroin, and tomorrow is her birthday, I decided to post the first chapter as an early birthday present for her, as she's been begging me to do for just about a year now. So, I hope you have a very happy birthday, lovely lady!

Chapter 1 – Tentative Tenant

I honestly never saw myself living so far away from Forks. Even when the time came to go to college, and I left for Seattle, the feeling of homesickness was overwhelming. I couldn't wait for the four years to pass so I could return home and to a normal pace.

However, in my junior year, Grandma Swan passed away and left me her duplex rental property in Bellevue in her will. My dad then did his best to convince me that a "podunk" town like Forks would only hold me back and living closer to the city could offer more opportunity for me. I argued with him for a good year, since there was no way I was leaving my dad alone to fend for himself any longer than I had to.

Then I returned home for Christmas in my senior year, and I was blown away. I'd arrived early to surprise him, but it appeared that the tables had been turned. My childhood home was barely recognizable, while still not losing all of its charm. It seemed brighter and more lively, and even those God awful yellow walls in the kitchen, compliments of my mother before the divorce, were now a soft, subtle blue. The only things that hadn't changed were everything that made the house my dad's, such as the fishing paraphernalia all around, the tacky lamp he loved so much standing beside the recliner in the living room that I swore was older than I was, and of course, my father himself, seated upon it and drinking a can of his favorite beer.

The biggest difference, however, was my dad himself. His eyes appeared to have lost about ten years, he was so relaxed, and the smile he wore was brighter than I could recall seeing since before my mom left when I was four.

He was happy, and it wasn't long before I discovered why.

My jaw hit the floor when Sue Clearwater, a woman I had known all my life, walked through the door, arms laden with bags of groceries and calling out to my dad. "Hey, honey, I have a couple more bags in the car, if you wouldn't mind grabbing them while I put this stuff away?"

My wide eyes shot over to my father, and I caught the hint of a blush tinging his cheeks as he passed by me to head outside. I knew he had been seeing someone for a few months, but he had never divulged who, let alone that she had now moved in with him. Later that afternoon, they explained that they had wanted to sit down with me in person and tell me. Knowing how much I had loved Sue's husband, Harry, who had died three years before, they thought it might have upset me. Yet, I couldn't have been happier. Sue was still far too young to bury herself away, and my dad had been so lonely for so many years—they both deserved a second chance at happiness. That feeling only grew as I watched them together over my time at home, seeing how happy they made each other and how well they took care of one another. I couldn't have imagined anyone more perfect for my father, and vice versa—they were even each other's fishing buddies!

Even with the strange ache I felt at the knowledge that my dad really didn't need me to take care of him anymore, it was also the nudge I needed to start looking toward my own future. So that semester, I opted out of the dorm and moved into one side of Grandma's duplex, using the other half to store my things from back in Forks and some of my grandmother's old furniture. Yet, finding a job in video game design after graduation proved a far more difficult and competitive field than I had anticipated, and within a few months, the savings from my part-time job was running dangerously low, and they weren't hiring full-time, either. I considered renting the other half out to help with expenses and property taxes that were coming up; though I'd miss the quiet and extra space, paying the bills and eating were far more important.

Fortunately, it wasn't too long after that decision that I was contacted to do some freelance work, that I could do mostly from home, on a trial basis, which eventually became a permanent position. It was a very small company, just starting out, but it was enough to get my feet wet, so to speak, as well as some experience. It also not only gave me an income and flexible hours but drastically reduced my gas expenditures by not having to commute to the downtown Seattle office every day—thereby eliminating my immediate need for a tenant.

As time passed, though, I began to get restless, being home a majority of the time, aside from the occasional meeting and my morning and early evening jogs. Then every time I mowed the back yard, I couldn't help but notice how boring it was. There was a single, skinny tree about twenty feet beyond my back door, and that was it. Even the grass was patchy at best, and all of that brought the homesickness back again.

My dad had always taken meticulous care of our yard in Forks. The grass was always lush and green in the spring and summer, our shrubs were neat and trimmed, and we had tall, beautiful trees that would litter the ground with leaves in the fall. Some of my favorite memories as a kid was being outside with my dad, raking them into a pile, and then grinning at each other devilishly before running and jumping in the middle together to see how far they would spread out again.

I wanted experiences like that with my own kids someday; not that I was in any rush. I wasn't even twenty-five yet, and it wasn't as if I'd been actively out there looking for so much as a date, but there was nothing wrong with dreaming.

However, there was no way I could do all I wanted to on my income alone, even with minimal expenses. So, I finally decided to clean out the other half, have a yard sale, and post a listing for the rental.

I'd had a few bites over the past few months, but none of them had panned out. Either it was just a little too far outside the city for them, or the rent, while reasonable for the area, was out of their price range, or something. I had almost decided to remove the listing and just deal with my dull yard, when a strange number came across my caller id. Not recognizing it and assuming it was a scam, I ignored it as I usually did, but was surprised when my phone notified me that I had a voicemail, and a rather lengthy one at that—just over a full minute. I selected it and put it on speaker, again stunned that it was an actual person and not some automated message telling me that Windows had expired on my PC…when I owned a Mac.

Nothing could have prepared me for the voice that came through, though.

Hello, Miss Swan. My name is Edward Cullen, and I came across your listing online for the rental property you are offering. Currently, I am in Manchester in the UK, waiting on an immigration process, but I will be in need of a residence when I return in a month. Obviously, I will not be able to do a walkthrough or anything in person before that time, but I had a few questions to ask…"

He finished off the voicemail by leaving his contact information, both phone number and email address, and a soft, somewhat nervous "cheers…err… bye".

Embarrassingly, I had to listen to the message four times. Between his soft, sexy voice and the accent that made it just that much more alluring, I wasn't paying one hundred percent attention to what he said as much as how he was saying it. By the fourth time, I gave myself a mental smack to stop being so shallow and listened to the whole message straight through, jotting down the information.

I debated for a moment whether I should email him first or just call back. Clearly, with an email, I wouldn't have to worry about bumbling over my words and trying to form a single coherent word, but I needed to get over that. Even as only a potential tenant, he would rightfully expect me to be professional and conduct myself accordingly. Besides, just because the voice and accent were pretty, didn't mean the man himself would be appealing.

Boy, was I ever wrong about that.