Page 65 of A Marriage Pact for the Cowboy

“Yes, sir.” But the guy didn’t look happy about it.

That made three of them. Maxwell gestured toward his truck. It offered privacy in clear view of anyone who cared, including Steve. “Janessa?” He held the passenger door.

She climbed in with a huff and crossed her arms over her chest. “That is a moron who cannot read directions.”

Maxwell settled in the driver’s seat and closed his eyes, asking the Lord for patience and wisdom. Maybe he should have done that before he leaped into the fray. “What kind of orders are we talking about?”

“The tile for each room in each unit is clearly on the work list. Am I not correct?”

“Uh… I believe so.” That was Janessa’s department. Maxwell mostly looked for empty holes on the master sheet.

“He put the bathroom tiles for Cottage Four in Cottage Three’s bathroom!”

They weren’t all the same? Tiles were cheaper by the pallet. Right. He vaguely remembered this discussion from before Heather quit.

Let Janessa not follow in her predecessor’s footsteps by leaving him in the lurch. Maxwell needed an experienced interior designer on staff.

“All the tiles are somewhat similar, aren’t they?” He could hope.

“Not remotely. The colorways are unique to each cottage. Heather and I specifically chose modern aesthetics to deliver distinctive vibes for each one.”

Maxwell massaged his temples. “How far into tiling is he?”

“The master bath is finished, and he’s started the hall bath.”

Ugh. “Can you just swap the palettes?”

Janessa glared at him. “Only if you want my team to repaint everything and Jordan to tear up and reinstall flooring. He’s got a good start in Cottage Three’s great room.”

Was this really the end of the world if the tile and paint color weren’t an absolutely perfect match? Although, like Janessa, he prided himself on attention to detail.

If he’d spent as much time at the project as usual, this would probably not have happened, but he’d been distracted by cascading blond hair and shy blue eyes and hanging around the dining hall.

“Can Steve rip out the tile?”

“He says only with a hammer.” Janessa spat out her reply. “And that he can’t promise there wouldn’t need to be drywall repairs. I bet he’d damage the walls on purpose to spite me.”

If she’d come at the guy in this tone of voice, he probably would. “Steve’s the best tiler in this part of Montana.” Maxwell really, really didn’t want to have to hunt for another with similar experience.

“What good is that if he’s rogue?”

“Rogue?” Maxwell rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It was probably an honest mistake.”

“I doubt it. He hates me.”

He could sympathize with Steve at the moment. “Look, you’re the designer in charge of this project. If you weren’t neck-deep in a personal tiff with Steve, what would you recommend? Sounds like we have a few options. One, live with it and carry on.” His personal preference.

Janessa huffed.

“Two, he rips out the tile, breaks a few, and we have to order extras out of Chicago and wait a few weeks. So, we’ll be held up and in need of minor repairs to the walls. That’s if we didn’t buy the tail end of that lot of tiles. They may be completely irreplaceable.”

She narrowed her gaze at him, her jaw set.

“Three, you repaint, and we swap the palettes as best we can. Paint is relatively cheap and available. Yes, it will set us back several days with the extra time, and I know the labor is on you. Any options I’ve missed?”

“The one where you fire Steve, or I quit?”

“I do not believe that is an option.” He met her gaze as evenly as he could. Waited.

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