9. Cowboy Up #2
I nod noncommittally and pull my hand free. “I should’ve asked for Jules’ input first, then relayed that message to you before you did all this”—I look over what could be mistaken for a grade school presentation of the many plaids of Scotland—“…work.”
Jules snorts, causing Pearl to narrow her eyes in her direction.
“And what, may I ask, is so funny?” Pearl makes the mistake of asking Jules.
“I was just thinking that if you’d worked as hard on your design as you are on Holt, I wouldn’t have needed to intervene.”
I sigh internally. So much for making peace.
“This is how this is going to go down, Pearl,” Jules continues. “Mr. West likes her design.” She points to the assistant. “So you’re going to help execute it, or you’re out of a job.”
Pearl’s mouth drops open and her heavy eyelashes flutter like butterflies caught in the wind. “You want to go with a recent graduate rather than a seasoned, award-winning designer?” Pearls laughs, then sobers when she sees Jules is serious. She glances at me.
I can’t help but grimace, my headache increasing at being put on the spot, but I forge on. “I have to say, ma’am, I do like this design the best,” I say, pointing to the assistant’s board.
Her mouth opens and closes a few times, reminding me of a freshly caught bass. If a bass wore bright red lipstick.
“Fine.” She starts snatching up the other design boards.
“I won’t have my name associated with what will undoubtedly be a complete mess.
” She hugs three boards to her chest before realizing the futility of her efforts and dumps them back down on the couch.
“Forget it. I’ll have my people come collect everything.
” She struts to the door, pausing by Jules. “And you…”
Jules says nothing but slightly shifts, squaring her shoulders.
It’s enough to make the interior designer rethink the target of her last bit of venom and she instead turns to her assistant. “Ungrateful girl!”
Pearl’s heel snaps. She drops to one knee, the hand at her throat snatching her necklace on its descent. Beads bounce everywhere.
Pearl has lost her pearls.
The assistant races forward. “Miss Pearl! Please, let me help?—”
“Don’t touch me.” She pushes the young girl away. “You’ve already done quite enough.”
Jules is fighting a laugh, and I find myself wanting to join in.
But really, I can’t see a woman down and not help her, even if I’m keen to watch her go.
In two strides I have Pearl’s elbow in my hand, helping her off the floor.
As soon as she’s able she yanks it back and hobbles out of the room and through the front door.
I stand there for a moment, listening to her car peel out of the drive, wondering what to do now, when Jules pipes up.
“Well, now that that’s taken care of”—she brushes her hands together—“let’s get this shit sorted.”
The flash of her bright smile and the gleam in her eye has me forgetting the throbbing in my foot, my brain now focused on an entirely different sort of throbbing.
And I wonder if I’ve simply traded one evil for another.
Jules
When Holt turns back to the room, his expression looks a bit lost, and for the first time since I’d heard Miss-Pretty-in-Pink-and-Pearls’ condescending voice, I wonder if I overstepped.
After the hour we spent clicking through fancy barn weddings, his worried look had morphed into one of determination. Determined to remodel his outdated decor so that Jackie and Flynn’s wedding is flawless. Even on our already tight deadline.
I wouldn’t have been able to talk him out of it, nor did I try. The house is a bit of a relic.
To get this done we have to be focused. True, I may have taken yesterday’s frustration from my flight drama out on Pearl, but we’re gonna have to make hard choices and not be afraid to hurt feelings.
Me? I do that on the daily. Holt? Well…
Holt is too nice .
If left to his own devices with Pearl, his windows would be covered in horse printed shrouds, all because he can’t tell a lady to take a hike.
Except, apparently, me. I haven’t forgotten about Holt’s little jab at me the other day. But then again, that might have to do with me bringing out the worst in him.
’Cause me? I am not too nice.
Nice at all is probably up for debate, depending on who you talk to.
FYI, don’t talk to my high school calculus teacher. I swear I didn’t superglue all his office supplies to his desk the day after he’d given me detention for talking in class. I may have supervised, but I didn’t actually do it.
Moving on.
The assistant is still clutching her clipboard like her boss had her pearls. Let’s hope she has more gumption than her stance suggests.
I square up to her, looking her straight in the eye. “First things first. Can you handle this?” I gesture to her board and then the rest of the house. “Or do we need to call in another firm?”
The assistant bites her lip but says nothing.
Deep breath, Jules. Just because you’re still shaken from yesterday doesn’t mean you need to yell at a co-ed. “Okay, let’s start this again.” I walk over to her and stick out my hand. “I’m Julie Starr. And you’re Missy?”
“Melissa,” she answers, standing up straighter, chin out.
I nod my head at her firm tone.
“My name is Melissa. Miss Pearl just liked to call me Missy. Even though I repeatedly told her my name is Melissa.”
Pleased to see some fire under her ass, I smile. “Missy is a stupid name anyway. Melissa is way better.” I’m rewarded with a return smile, and some of tension I’ve been carrying since jumping into this shit show eases from my shoulders.
“And what’s your name?” I ask the guy who was also too chickenshit to say anything to Pearl.
“Ray, ma’am.” He reaches out for my hand as a grin flashes under his gray mustache. Reminds me of a short-haired Sam Elliot.
I shake his hand. “Don’t call me ma’am. Jules will do.”
His smile falters, but he nods.
I look back and forth between Ray and Melissa. “You think you two can handle all this?”
“I have my own company,” Ray says. “I just sometimes work with Pearl’s design firm.
” He looks over the winning design board.
“This won’t be too hard. We aren’t changing the layout.
The biggest change is getting rid of this half wall and widening the entryway from the foyer into the living room.
Everything else is more or less cosmetic, with the floor plan staying the same.
” He blows out a breath, nodding. “Yeah, I can handle all the construction you need, in the time frame you need, if the price is right.”
It’s my turn to nod. “Well, Ray, as you can obviously see, I am a total badass.”
Holt snorts.
“But I am not a banker or a West, so you’ll have to talk numbers with this guy.
” I thumb over to Holt’s direction and then look at Melissa.
“But the answer I really need is from the new grad.” Even though I didn’t like Pearl, I’m not going to saddle Holt with some green behind the ears sorority sister.
I stare hard at Melissa, and I’ve been told being on the receiving end of my stare is no joke.
“I’m going to be straight with you, Melissa.
Due to Pearl’s godawful taste, the fact that your design is the only one here that doesn’t make me want to vomit plaid, and the tight timeline we’re under, you’ve got yourself an opportunity here.
” I look the girl up and down, infusing my look with all the hardassness of my military training instructor at the Air Force Academy.
“This will either be the start of an amazing career for you or your downfall. So think carefully. Can you handle it?”
To give her credit, she doesn’t cry, nor does she jump at the chance. She takes the time to actually think about what I’ve said. And that right there lets me know I’ve gambled well.
Melissa nods to herself and thrusts out her hand. “You’ve got yourself a designer, Miss Starr.”
I take her hand, pleased that her grip remains firm as we shake. “Jules, Melissa. Call me Jules.”
There’s a beat of silence before a deep Southern drawl has my toes curling on the hardwood floor.
“So do I actually get a say in any of this, or what?”
I adopt a look of nonchalance when I face Holt. “Did you want a say in this?”
He points to the design board Melissa had created and looks to the assistant. “Is my house going to look more or less like that?”
“Yes sir,” she answers, and I swear the girl grew about three inches since Pearl left.
He turns to Ray. “And will it be done in three and a half weeks?”
“You got it,” Ray says, rocking back on his heels.
Holt frowns, but nods. “Then no, I don’t need a say.”
A smile takes over my face, and I’m sure I look somewhat devilish as I rub my hands together. “Awesome then. I’m in charge.”
Just the way I like it.