Page 55 of A Marriage Pact for the Cowboy

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?

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