“Yes. And don’t give me that look.”
“What look?”
“The look that says you know better than I do! The look I’ve seen on your face a billion times. You don’t know better than I do aboutmyhouse, Brewer.” Delaney’s voice grew louder, more heated. “I might be… I might beresignedto the bathroom situation. Because the tiles and fixtures are objectively beautiful, even though they’re not what I asked for?—”
I rolled my eyes.
“Just like, through sheer luck,” he went on, face bright red now, “I don’tdespisethe creamy color you used in my bedroom, though I will remind you that I specifically asked for sleek white. And yes, I agreed that the refinished floors in the living room look nice, though I still maintain that the vinyl planking I picked out would have looked equally goodandbeen more durable! Me agreeing doesn’t mean you’re right; it means I’m an incrediblyadaptable, easygoing person!”
I stifled a laugh at the idea of Delaney being “easygoing” and restrained myself to a nod. How could he manage to sound so wronged while still agreeing that he liked the end result?
The man was a fucking porcupine, all bristles and quills for no reason I could fathom. But—and this was the part that really got me—he was not the only prickly client I’d had over the years. So why the fuck did this one get under my skin so badly?
And when the fuck had I started thinking his quills were as hot as they were annoying?
This wasn’t like me. I was a calm, steady person. Truly easygoing, the way Delaney claimed to be. I generally wasn’t interested in confrontation, and I’d rather walk away from a situation than fight about it. If someone wasn’t on board with that, I didn’t let them get close enough to get under my skin. But something about this guy, this one particular guy, had burrowed in and stuck there. And it was driving me crazy.
I didn’t get him, I didn’t get my own reaction to him, and I didn’t like it.
I caught a few muttered words as Delaney turned slightly away—something about “power trip” and “ego the size of a planet.”
I bit the inside of my cheek.
If he only knew how much time I spent worrying about his house, how many extra hours I put in to make sure everything was perfect. How I’d driven to four different salvage yards trying to find period-appropriate doorknobs only to come up empty. How I’d spent evenings sketching kitchen cabinet designs that would give him the industrial look he wanted without compromising the house’s character.
But Delaney had decided I was the enemy, and nothing I did seemed capable of changing that. And I shouldn’t care as much as I did.
“The customer is always right, Brewer,” he said, turning back to me. “That’s literallyContractor 101. I hire you, you do what I tell you. Easy peasy. I shouldn’t have to explain this.”
“You really shouldn’t.” In fact, I wished he’d stop trying.
His eyes narrowed, and I could see something vulnerable flickering beneath the bluster. “I… I know what you’re thinking.”
“Again?” I lifted an eyebrow. “So weird how you think you can do that.”
“You’re thinking about that ridiculous contract I signed, aren’t you? The design approval clause, the contractor oversight clause. You’re thinking that means you’re in charge. Well, it doesn’t.” Delaney lifted his chin. “That contract wouldn’t hold up in court.”
I regarded him steadily. The contract was completely standard and definitely enforceable, and I was pretty sure he knew it.
But that didn’t stop him from continuing, “In fact, it should be voided completely since the work was supposed to be finished before I moved in, and it wasn’t. So…” He trailed off meaningfully.
I glanced down at his hand on my chest again, and once more, he snatched his hand away guiltily… but not before we both caught sight of the angry red scar running across his index finger—the result of his ill-advised attempt to move an electrical outlet on his own. An attempt that had flooded his living room when the frozen pipe burst after he’d knocked out power to the thermostat.
Coming after he’d nearly set the place on fire trying to sand a door that was coated in oil-based stain, it was a miracle he hadn’t seriously injured himself.
My jaw tightened at the memory of getting that panicked call in the middle of the night, of finding him standing in ankle-deep water, looking so defeated it had physically hurt to see.
“So,” I agreed, keeping my voice neutral despite the memory.
His chin jutted out. “There’s nothing in the contract that says I can’t work on my own home. I was helping you move things along faster?—”
“You were trying to get things doneyourway… even though I explained why it wouldn’t work,” I countered, my voice coming out gravelly since I was still caught in the memory of what might have happened. “You wouldn’t listen. You justhadto try to do it yourself?—”
“Not because I wanted to,” he insisted. “I’m fully aware that I’m not a DIY guy. That working with tools is not one of my natural gifts. That I wasn’t… wasn’tbuiltfor that. There’s a reason I’m the only Monroe who can’t change his own oil.” He sniffed. “But you’ve driven me to DIY, Brewer. What else is a man supposed to do when his contractor can’t seem to understand basic instructions?”
I shook my head, feeling my calm exterior starting to crack. “It’s not about obedience! It’s not about a power struggle. It’s about safety. It’s about getting your house doneright. It’s about… and please hear these words when I say them… about trusting the person you hired to do the job.” I was closer to losing my cool than I’d been in years, and I hated that feeling. I blew out a breath and finished calmly,“I know what I’m doing, Delaney. Satisfaction guaranteed, remember?”
Delaney’s nostrils flared, and for a second, I thought maybe this time he’d heard me…
