Page 86 of A Marriage Pact for the Cowboy

“Something interesting?” She trailed him to the bedroom door.

He strode in and unfolded the quilt lying across the foot of the bed. The quilt…

Eryn gasped.

Maxwell shook it out and held it up. “Some of the fabric is the same as in the prototype for the table runners.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

He laughed. “Did you make my quilt?”

“Wow.” She shook her head. “I sewed that for a woman who ordered a custom quilt from the fabric store in Gilead. She wanted it for her mother-in-law in Chicago. That was five or six years ago.”

“I’ve been snuggling with your quilt for four years. I can’t believe it.”

“I can’t, either. What a crazy coincidence.” Eryn traced her fingertip down the tiny stitches. “I only sewed the patchwork top, then Zoey hired someone with a quilting machine to finish it up. And it was stashed in the attic of a house you flipped?”

“Along with several other quilts and a whole raft of other things. The house owner had died suddenly, and her family just wanted rid of everything in one go, after they’d taken the heirlooms they wanted, I guess.”

“It looks as good as new.”

His eyes crinkled. “I’ve taken good care of it.”

She laughed but couldn’t take her eyes off the quilt. “I always loved this one. I doubt I can get the exact fabrics for the table runners — I just whipped that up with scraps I had left over. I’ll need to go shopping.”

“Whipped that up?” Maxwell laughed.

“Hey, you just ‘whipped up’ a mosaic design for the broken tile in that bathroom.” He’d finally shown her around the cottages on Ladybug Lane the other day.

“That’s true. And it looks pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

“I’ll say it for you, if needed.”

“You know what looks good? You do. You rocked that presentation.”

“I couldn’t have without your help. The graphics helped a ton.”

“It was all you, sweetie. That was just the cherry on top.” Maxwell gathered her in his arms and kissed her tenderly.

No, his love was the cherry on top.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

Maxwell adjusted his bow tie and smoothed the scarlet cummerbund. He’d once called it red, and Paisley had corrected him. He’d been more careful after that. He studied himself in the full-length mirror and flicked what might have been a piece of lint off his tuxedo’s black sleeve.

Someone tapped at the door, and he turned toward it. “Yes?”

It opened, and Weston and Jude entered, wearing tuxes similar to his. Weston tugged at his tie. “How do you get used to being choked?”

“Choked?” Maxwell laughed and crossed the space. “Let me adjust that thing for you. Paisley tightened it right up?”

Jude snickered. “She’s making sure you remember who’s boss.”

Weston sneered at his brother. “You’re just jealous.”

And Jude actually shut up and turned away. Huh.

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