“I told you,” Bricker said smugly. He chuckled and turned toward the door to the dining room, adding, “Welcome to the land of the living. Now get cooking.”
Alex felt incredibly relaxed for the first time in weeks as she drove from one restaurant to the other. She had a real and very hunky French chef serving up her recipes, Bricker was filling in for the missing waitress, and all was right with her world. She continued to feel happy and worry-free right up until she arrived at the new restaurant and entered to find the painters busily painting the dining area.
The papers Alex was carrying slipped from her fingers, and a curse slid from her lips as she peered in horror at the three lime green walls already done.
While the curse she’d used was one that would have made her mother wince, the painters didn’t react to it at all and carried on working.
“Stop,” she said finally. “Stop dammit!”
One of the painters shifted on his ladder to dip his roller in more paint, and it was only then Alex noted the earbuds in his ear. Her gaze slid to the other two painters to see that they wore them as well. All three were listening to iPods or some other small MP3 player and hadn’t heard her.
Cursing colorfully again, Alex rushed forward to tug at the pant leg of the nearest man. Startled, he nearly tumbled from the ladder but caught himself at the last moment. Ripping the buds from his ears, he scowled at her furiously. His name was Bill, and he was a big burly guy, intimidating as hell … or he would have been if she weren’t in such a temper.
“What the hell are you trying to do? Kill me?” he barked.
“No, but you’re killing me,” Alex snapped back and waved toward the painted walls. “What is this?”
“It’s paint, lady,” he growled, glaring at her. “You hired us to paint and we’re painting.”
“I told you to wait until I got back,” she reminded him grimly, and silently berated herself for not completing that phone call she’d been starting when Justin and Cale had arrived. She could have asked them what color the paint was or insist they wait until she returned. Instead, she’d put the phone down and forgotten all about it until now. Not that the painters probably would have heard the ringing with their iPods on anyway.
“We did wait,” Bill snapped. “You’ve been gone more than four hours. We finally decided we’d best get started, or we’d be here all night.”
Alex ground her teeth together. She’d only intended on being gone an hour at the most, but with everything that had happened, the time had gotten away from her.
“When an hour and a half passed with no sign of you and not even a phone call, we started painting,” Bill snapped angrily.
“The wrong color,” she shrieked back. “Does this look like White Sand to you?”
“No, it looks like walls,” he snarled.
“I mean the color,” she said furiously. “The paint is supposed to be a soothing off-white called White Sand, not lime green.”
He frowned at her, and then glanced around the room briefly, before shaking his head. “This is the paint they delivered, so this is the paint we used.”
“It’s the wrong paint,” she said grimly.
“Well, that’s not my problem,” he said stiffly. “Call the store you bought it from and complain to them.”
“You’re damned right I will.” Alex whirled away in a temper, slipping her bag off her shoulder to dig inside it for her cell phone as she paced across the room. When she realized the other two men, earbuds in and oblivious to what was going on, were still painting, she snapped, “Make them stop.”
Grunting with displeasure, Bill climbed down off his ladder and moved to the nearest man. Alex then turned her attention to her phone but paused as she realized she didn’t know the number. She needed a phone book,or the bill, she thought, and rushed through the dining room and then the kitchen to get to the office.
Alex found a copy of the delivery invoice lying on top of her otherwise empty desktop. She snatched it up, noted that yes, the receipt did say White Sand paint and that the store number was at the top.
Alex plopped her purse where the invoice had been and punched in the number to the paint store, her temper simmering, but she managed to maintain her cool as she explained her problem to the efficient-sounding woman who answered. She even managed to keep her temper under control when the woman said she would fetch the manager and put her on hold. However, after fifteen minutes on hold, she was practically foaming at the mouth. When the manager finally picked up, Alex tore into him over both the mix-up and being on hold for so long. The manager started out trying to soothe her, explaining that he’d taken so long because they’d had to get the delivery papers from the driver.