Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
W hat’s with the boss man?” Tory stage-whispered to Janessa. “He hasn’t stopped smiling all morning.”
Maxwell turned and gave his worker a mock glare. “I’ve smiled before.”
“Once a day, whether he needs to or not,” quipped Janessa. “Just kidding, boss.”
“Hey, I’m not that bad.” Was he? He didn’t think so.
“Nah, just focused. It’s all good.”
Janessa had been with the team since their move to Montana, and Heather had trained her in her current capacities. Had Heather thought he was too focused? Was that why she’d turned in her notice back in spring? She’d said it was because she’d met someone back home. She’d introduced her fiancé to Maxwell at Graham and Cadence’s wedding in September and told him she hoped he’d attend their spring wedding.
He’d wondered for a while after she left if he’d missed a cue because work consumed all his mental energy. Might he have captured Heather’s attention and love if he’d been more available, more watchful? The question paralleled that of his parents’. Dad had let their marriage slip from inattention. Work had been his mistress. Still was.
Maxwell shook his head. Meeting Eryn had made him thankful Heather had left on amicable terms. He’d never felt for Heather a fraction of how he felt for Eryn, but the worry still niggled that he had too much of his father’s nature in him. How did a guy keep his life in balance?
“…lost in his own little world,” Janessa continued.
Maxwell snapped to attention. “Okay, does anyone have questions about your tasks for today, or is this just pick-on-Maxwell hour? We’ve got deadlines on this project, so hop to it.”
“I’ve added paint to the next pick-up at the hardware store,” Janessa said. “We’ll be running out of Foggy Forest by the end of the day, and I’ll need more for Cottage Four.”
“I saw that.” Jordan nodded. “I need more drywall screws and another #2 bit, along with drywall for Cottage Six. If anyone has anything to add, I’ll get a delivery up here for tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll double-check the other paint supplies.” Janessa dusted her hands together.
“Steve?”
The tiler frowned at Janessa. “I think I’m good on tiles and grout for the next two bathrooms, but I’ll check.”
See? This crew all but ran itself. They didn’t even really need Maxwell.
As the group dispersed from their informal meeting, Janessa stopped beside him, her eyes twinkling. “Have a good date yesterday, boss?”
“Sure did. And I don’t feel the slightest bit of guilt for ditching you all to keep working while I took a day off.”
“And why should you?”
“Why should I feel guilty?” Maxwell stared at her. “Because I pride myself on working harder than the rest of you put together.”
She smirked. “You do that, anyway. How many hours have you put in on the treehouse designs, and we won’t even start building for six months?”
“Uh… lots.” Innumerable, in fact. “But that doesn’t count, because it’s not today’s boots-on-the-ground project.”
“The treehouses will never be boots on the ground, boss.”
Maxwell reared back. “You don’t think they’re viable? I assure you, they totally are. There’s this place in Oregon?—”
Janessa smacked his arm. “It’ll be boots in the sky. Treehouses aren’t on the ground. Sheesh, I can’t believe I had to explain that to you.”
“There’s a jokester in every crowd.” Maxwell rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you say you had a ton of painting to do today?”
“Sure do, but I can’t pass up the chance to check in with you.”
He stared at her. Was she insinuating?—?
“Not like that, Maxwell the Great. Good grief. One woman bats her eyelashes at you, and you think the entire female race wants to elbow her out of the way and have their chance with you.” She walked away.
“Janessa?”
She turned back, eyebrows lifted. “Did I go too far?”
“Kind of.” Dad certainly would have fired her on the spot for impertinence and lack of respect for authority, but Maxwell hadn’t run his business that way. He’d focused on running a tight ship but with camaraderie. Didn’t a little razzing count for that? “Do you really think I’m full of myself?”
Janessa eyed him. “Not in a bad way,” she said at last.
“Is there any other way?”
“Sorry, boss. I shouldn’t have pushed your buttons. The paintbrush is calling me.”
Maxwell let her go but couldn’t get her words out of his head. He was confident, at least in his business decisions. Less so with women, but then they’d never factored into his life until recently, so he had less experience there. He’d felt like he was finding his footing with Eryn as of last night — that kiss! — but had he seemed too cocky to her, too? Did she feel, like Janessa seemed to, that she needed to fall in line because Maxwell the Great expected it, and it was easier not to resist?
Eryn had resisted, though, unless she’d previously been oblivious to his hints of interest over the past few weeks. Okay, they hadn’t been hints. He’d been fairly straightforward with her from the beginning, as direct as he dared to be before fearing she’d bolt the opposite direction.
Maxwell was accustomed to getting what he wanted. Outbidding his opponents by a dollar? Check. Subcontractors working overtime to meet his deadlines? Check. Designing treehouses for a resort in Montana? Check. Getting the woman of his dreams to look at him with stars in her eyes? Check.
He stared out the window of Cottage Four toward the small lake, where a light drizzle pebbled the gray surface.
Could he keep Eryn’s attention? Not by manipulation or by force. She had to want him — want them as a couple — as much as he did. And she wouldn’t if she saw him like Janessa did, as a conceited but hopefully benevolent dictator.
He couldn’t boss Eryn around. She wasn’t his employee. But he didn’t know any other way to get results. It worked in every other area of life, more or less. And if he’d lost a few times because he’d overstepped, it was no big problem. There was always some other solution.
But not with Eryn. If he lost with her, he’d lost his future. That wasn’t a gamble he was willing to take.
Lord, help him, he had to do this right the first time.
Dad was probably working out at the farm, and Maxwell was in one of the houses on Ladybug Lane. Eryn hadn’t explored out that direction yet, but she didn’t want to disturb him at work. Didn’t want his crew to snicker that she was chasing him if she showed up there for a tour as though it were her right.
She’d written up her notes on all the artisans they’d met yesterday and doodled a layout for the gift shop based on those considerations. But she was restless, tired of thinking about all that.
Work on her quilt design for the ranch? No. Her sketch was too simplistic, too amateur compared to what real artists brought to the table. Did she have enough scraps for a prototype? She’d need to get her sewing machines and notions out of their storage boxes stacked in the loft. It would be better to do that after she and Dad had moved into the farmhouse. Only a couple of weeks to go, if she could wait that long.
Maxwell had divulged his birthday, and it was coming up soon. What was a proper gift for someone in a new relationship? She was probably going to mess this up. Was there anyone she could ask for advice?
In her mind’s eye, her twin mocked her.
But Amelia wasn’t here. If she’d still been alive, Eryn and Dad wouldn’t have moved to Montana. Amelia would have gone to the reunion and caught Maxwell’s eye. After all, he’d been looking for her. He probably remembered their childhood dalliance, too.
Paisley? But Paisley was as outgoing as Eryn was shy. Would any good advice she might offer be worth Eryn putting herself out there?
There was no other way to make friends. Eryn’d had so few of those all her life. Most had been appropriated by Amelia, and Eryn hadn’t fought back. How had she been such a doormat?
Eryn opened her phone. Paisley had put her number in it back that first day and had texted a few times, but Eryn had never initiated a conversation. She was such a loser.
Now, though…
Eryn: Hi! What are you up to this afternoon?
Paisley: I’m in the office down at the lodge, but I could sure use a break. Want to come down?
It was gray and rainy outside, so indoors was preferred, and someone had started a fire in the lodge’s great room fireplace this morning while Eryn was kneading bread. It had looked inviting but, on the other hand, they could be overheard by anyone passing through the lodge.
And she was being a coward. Again.
Eryn: Sure. When’s good?
Paisley: Anytime. Just come to my office when you get here.
Eryn: Okay.
She looked around the little duplex, which was tidy and impersonal with few of their own belongings in view. Then she slipped on her boots and rain jacket and grabbed her umbrella. She tucked her phone and knit slippers in her pockets and headed out the door.
This cluster of staff duplexes must feel like a real community in the heat of summer when every unit was stuffed with workers. Now, many sat vacant or had only one occupant, like Paisley’s.
Even in the late October drizzle, the ranch was pretty. The leaves had fallen and been raked away or been pummeled into nearly colorless, sodden blobs along the roadway. The lake lay gray today with wisps of fog hovering overtop, the mountains around them obscured by low clouds.
The vibe was still completely different than Kansas. The rain fell downward instead of sideways, to start with. The lack of blasting wind was a pleasure.
Eryn passed the corner to Pegasus Lane and walked the rest of the way down the hill to the lodge with its wisps of wood smoke rising from the stone chimney. The huge log building with its wide covered decks and impressive views never failed to amaze her. How was this her life?
She was so lucky — no, blessed — to live here now. To be dating Maxwell Sullivan.
Yeah, she needed Paisley’s advice on that score. She shook out her umbrella and closed it before heading in the door to the office wing. She hung it on a hook and removed her wet boots, pulling her slippers out of her pockets then putting them on. She rapped lightly on Paisley’s door.
“Come on in!”
Eryn poked her head inside and blinked at the plethora of stuff smothering every surface. The walls were lined with whiteboards and bulletin boards covered with doodles and charts and business cards and brochures. A bouquet of balloons trailing ribbons was tacked to the corner of a half-empty shelving unit, the contents of which appeared to have erupted across a folding table in the middle.
This was a scary place, but it seemed to work for Paisley. It would never work for Eryn.
“Let me just wrap this up.” Paisley’s fingers danced over her keyboard.
“Want a hot chocolate? I can make a couple and meet you by the fireplace.” There certainly wasn’t any place to sit in here.
“Oh, perfect! I’d love that. I just need two minutes.”
Which would probably be five or ten, but that was okay. Eryn had nowhere else to be. She backed out and headed into the dining area.
Nadine glanced up from deep in the kitchen. “Hey there!”
“Hi. I just want to get a couple of hot chocolates if that’s okay.” She indicated the machine next to the coffee carafes.
“Sure. Are you meeting Maxwell?”
“No, Paisley.”
“Oh.” Nadine seemed disappointed. “There are cookies out for snack time, so help yourself. Thanks for making them.”
Eryn smiled. “Part of my job.”
“And everyone is thankful.” Nadine chuckled. “Having your help is making things easier. I hadn’t realized how barebones things got around here over the winter.”
“Oh. You’re welcome.” It was nice to be seen as more than a pity project. Eryn fixed two mugs of hot chocolate and set them on a tray along with four chocolate chip cookies. She carried the tray into the great room and rested it on a live-edge end table.
“Hey, thanks. You shouldn’t have.” Bryce dropped into the chair on the other side and reached for a mug.
“I… uh…”
“Oh, no. Are you expecting my brother?” Bryce’s hand hovered above the tray as he looked at her with eyebrows raised.
“No. Paisley.”
“Oh, in that case…” He rolled his eyes and rose to his feet. “I never hang around where I’m not wanted. But, you know, when you get tired of stick-in-the-mud Maxie, you know where to find me. I’m the fun one.”
If Bryce awaited a reply, he wasn’t going to get one. Eryn remained standing beside the end table and stared at him, keeping her expression as impassive as humanly possible.
“Fine. I get it.” He backed away, both palms toward her. “You think that won’t happen, but it would take a miracle, you know. All he knows how to do is snap his fingers and make things happen. It gets old.” Bryce pivoted and strolled away, whistling.
Paisley jogged around the corner and dodged around Bryce before dropping into the seat he’d vacated. “What was that all about? Mmm, chocolate chip cookies. My favorite.”
“Bryce?” Eryn was trembling as she lowered herself into the other chair. “He was… flirting?” Guys didn’t flirt with her. And if this was what it was like, she hoped one never did again.
“The jerk can’t help it.” Paisley shook her head. “I’m glad you texted me. I needed a break in the worst way. What’s up?”
Eryn, you need a girlfriend. Just spit it out.
“It’s Maxwell’s birthday in a couple of weeks, and I don’t know what to do.”
Paisley’s face brightened. “Oh, girl, you have come to the right place.”