Hopeful-looking paint swatches were taped up on the wall where cabinets should have been.
“This room is cursed,” Dean told him. “First the cabinets Maggie ordered mysteriously went out of stock. Then the tile for the floor came in wrong.”
“It’s not cursed,” she argued. “It’s just completely behind schedule. Two totally different things.”
“Maybe it’s the ghost of Ava Campbell,” Jim said, poking his head into the room. “She might not like you messing with her kitchen. Rumor has it she enjoyed cooking. She’d even send the staff home and cook dinner for the family herself.”
“I think Mrs. Campbell’s ghost will be very happy with the end result,” Maggie told him. “How’d it go upstairs?”
“Both bedrooms are in pretty good shape,” he reported. “Hardwood could use some refinishing, but it’s not an emergency.”
“How about the bathrooms?”
Silas saw Jim wince. “About as bad as yours.”
Maggie sighed. “Better focus on those this week. I’ll be needing them by the weekend.”
Silas wanted to ask what the rush was on bedrooms and bathrooms, but they were still locked in a battle of wills until he was confident that she’d cave. Maybe he looked like a “kicked-back tree-hugger”—his sister’s words—but inside, he had a stubborn streak when it came to justice.
“Can I talk to you?” Maggie asked softly, appearing at his elbow.
Victory was his.
“Ah, crap,” Elton grumbled, digging for his money clip. “I had next Tuesday.”
“I had next month,” Travis said glumly.
His mooney-eyed teenage employee should have known better. “Y’all maybe want to shut it?” Silas said, shoving them out of Maggie’s path.
“Had what?” she asked, eyes narrowing.
“You two making up,” Travis said, even moonier than usual.
She looked like she was changing her mind, so Silas took matters into his own hands and dragged her out of the room, down the hall, and into the newly created powder room behind the staircase.
“Watch the tile. We didn’t grout yet,” she warned, stepping carefully to the middle of two oversize slate tiles.
He shut the door, looked for the light switch, and found the fixture missing. It was a small space and dark except for the light coming in through a slim, stained-glass window.
Silas leaned against the wall and crossed his arms to keep himself from putting his hands on her.
“I don’t know if I want to talk, now that I know there was action on it,” she grumbled.
“If it makes you feel better, I had us making up days ago. I had no idea you’d be able to resist me for this long.”
She pursed her lips, a gesture he found erotically enchanting. “That does make me feel marginally better,” she admitted.
He stayed silent while she ran a finger along the edge of the vanity. She’d gone with a dresser style in here. Painted a dark green with a simple granite top.
“I guess I wanted to say maybe you had a point, and maybe I owe someone an apology. I’m still not sure that someone is you though.”
He grinned. “Wow. You’re really bad at this.”
“Oh, shut up. I still think you’re overstepping into areas where you have no responsibility.”
“But,” he prodded.
“But…” She paused and took a breath like she was working herself up to do something she didn’t want to do. “I’m sorry I worried you. And I’m sorry I took unnecessary risks. And just because I’m saying I’m sorry doesn’t mean that I want to date you or—”
He stepped onto the tiles in front of hers. “I’m sorry for maybe possibly slightly overreacting and scaring you off with my Fix It Better routine. But I want to be the one you call, Maggie.”
“I’m only here for—”
He pressed his index finger to her lips. “I want to be the one you call,” he said again.
Those whiskey-warm eyes were wide, and the flutter of her pulse at the base of her neck fascinated him.
“Can I be the one you call? I’ll accept it if Dean’s the first call. For now. But I want to make the short list.”
She hesitated, and it made him hold his breath. “Okay,” she said finally, against his finger.
He withdrew it. “Then I’m good. Are you good?” he asked.
She looked at him suspiciously, like she couldn’t believe making up could be that easy. “I’m good,” she said, then held out her hand.