Hungry For You(18)

Unfortunately, Alex wasn’t in the mood to be soothed. She barked out that someone should have let her know rather than leaving her hanging, and was angry enough she feared she might have thrown in an insult about the ineptitude of the woman who had answered the phone and himself for not thinking of that. Whatever the case, that’s when the manager stopped being soothing. He announced coolly that according to the delivery papers six cans of White Sand paint had been ordered and delivered and he had a signature on the papers indicating that this was the case and all was in order.

Alex immediately snapped that it certainly wasn’t

White Sand on her walls. Unfortunately, she might have included another insult or two there. She certainly wasn’t very diplomatic. Really, it had been a very stressful couple of months, and she was feeling a bit like a woman on the edge at that point.

Her attitude won her a moment of chilly silence that was followed by the manager’s announcing coldly that he would be more than happy to replace any unopened cans of paint remaining. However, she would have to look to the painters for reimbursing her for the paint already used since they had signed for it … and thank you for shopping with us.

It was the dial tone that sounded after he hung up that snapped Alex out of her hysteria. She listened to it dully, all her anger running out of her like air draining out of a balloon. She sat on the desk, staring bleakly at the unpainted walls of her office and then slowly hung up. Alex knew she’d reacted badly to this latest problem, but dammit, there hadn’t seemed to be a day that had gone by without one problem or another cropping up in the months getting this restaurant ready. She was starting to think the damned thing was cursed.

Taking a deep breath, Alex held it briefly, and then slowly let it out and tried to focus on what needed doing rather than what had happened so far. The tables and chairs were arriving tomorrow, so the dining room had to be painted tonight. She had the painters, she needed paint … and quickly since she doubted the painters would be pleased to sit about kicking their heels for long.

Fine, Alex thought grimly, she would rush to thenearest paint store, buy the proper paint, as well as primer since the lime green was bright enough she doubted the White Sand would cover it, bring it back, and set the men back to work.

Feeling somewhat calmer, she headed out of her office to find the painters. They were in the dining room where she’d left them, but the ladders were gone as well as the rest of the painting paraphernalia and the men themselves were heading out, carrying the rolled-up drop cloths.

“Wait a minute,” she cried, hurrying after them. “Where are you going?”

“To grab a beer,” Bill announced, stomping to the van parked in front of the restaurant and tossing the drop cloths in the open back door.

“But what about the restaurant?” Alex asked with renewed panic. “You have to finish painting.”

The man slammed the truck’s back door and turned to her with irritation. “You said it was the wrong paint and we were to stop painting.”

“Well, yes, but I’m going to go get the right paint and—”

“Nope.” The man spun away to walk around to the driver’s side door.

“Nope?” Alex echoed, and then hurried after him. “What do you mean, no? I need the restaurant painted tonight. The tables arrive tomorrow.”

“Lady, it’s Friday night. We ain’t sitting around twiddling our thumbs waiting on you to buy paint, and then working our arses off until midnight to get the job done.”

“But the tables come tomorrow,” she repeated plaintively.

“Then I guess you’d best get painting, because we aren’t.” He dragged the door open and climbed up behind the steering wheel. He then tried to pull the door closed, but Alex was in the way. Pausing, he scowled at her. “This job has been nothing but a pain in the ass from the start. We were nearly done here and ready to go when you came in and stopped us.”

“It was the wrong paint,” she pointed out with disbelief.

He ignored that and continued, “On top of that, we were actually supposed to do this job last week, but you rebooked and we nearly killed ourselves finishing other jobs over the last couple of days to make time to come here today.”

“The wrong carpet was installed, I had to have it redone, and the only day the installers had available was the day you guys were supposed to come,” she explained quickly, glancing past him as the other two men climbed into the van. Neither of them would even meet her gaze. It seemed they weren’t eager to get stuck here either.

“And now you’re claiming the wrong paint arrived,” Bill continued dryly, drawing her eyes back to him. “It seems to me either you’re the one making mistakes, or the Big Guy upstairs is trying to tell you something.”