Page 54

She cupped the back of his head and thrilled at the feel of his curly strands beneath her fingers. As his girlfriend, she had the right to kiss him, to touch him, to enjoy moments such as this.

How could heaven be any better?

No need to consider heaven right now, either. Just Maxwell and the thought that he cared about her. Not just a thought. He was proving that this wasn’t a figment of her imagination, that someone could care about her, because she, Eryn Ann Ralston, was worthy.

Heady knowledge.

Chapter

Eighteen

What’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?—”