“That was great.” Renee smoothed a stray hair away from Waverly’s shoulder. “People will get a kick out of your lack of reverence for Texas and its landmarks. Keep it up.”
“Great.” Waverly stepped away, waving off Renee’s prodding. “Are we finished here?”
If Renee was fazed by Waverly’s dismissal, she didn’t let it show. “I’d like to get a shot of you and Bailey discussing your plans for updating the fireplace. Make it sound like it’s something you’re coming up with off the top of your head as a surprise for Wilder.”
“Got it.” Waverly checked her phone. Her first sincere smile of the day spread across her face. “Can we take five? I have to return a call.”
“Can’t we—”
Waverly was out the door, whispering to whoever was on the other end of the line, before Renee could finish her request. That was the way it always seemed to be. Wilder and Waverly were all business on camera. They were flirtatious and bantered. They had chemistry. Then the second they were done with a shot, there was so much distance. Sometimes literally. Maybe there was trouble in paradise. Maybe this was the cost of fame—romantic distance. Maybe they were just going through a rough patch. It wasn’t Bailey’s job—or even in her best interest—to question their relationship, but that didn’t keep her from wondering.
Watching helplessly as Waverly left, Renee mouthed an apology to the crew before turning to Bailey. “Sorry. But at least this gives you a few minutes to prepare for your big on-screen debut.”
Oh God. While she’d been busy watching Waverly and Wilder, she’d forgotten she was supposed to play a part in the next scene. Once again, her eyes wandered to the camera still perched on the cameraman’s shoulder.
“What should I do?”
“Be yourself.” Renee squeezed her shoulder. “Just be your pithy self and you’ll be great.”
What was that even supposed to mean? Bailey would have asked, but Renee had already turned to chase after Waverly. She probably wanted to keep Waverly’s call to ten minutes if possible.
Well, fine. Bailey could figure out what she meant by “pithy” on her own. She’d start by googling “pithy.” She was so absorbed in reading the definition—“concise and forcefully expressive,” which so wasn’t her—she almost didn’t notice Wilder staring at her. Almost.
“Nervous?”
Is the Pope Catholic? Does the sun rise in the east and set in the west? Is Ryan Gosling the hottest thing to ever come out of Canada? Or maybe it’s Ryan Reynolds. It’s definitely one of the Ryans, though. (Sorry, not sorry, Waverly.)
Rather than give an outright answer and admit she was terrified, she gave a half shrug. Pithy. She probably needed to come up with some clever, but not show-stealing, lines to say on camera. She could still feel his eyes on her, even though she tried ignoring him. It was easier not looking into the camera lens than it was to pretend she didn’t notice how well he looked with a tool belt slung around his hips.
It was particularly difficult with him standing there with his thumbs hooked into his distressed jean pockets.
“Want to run through a couple of potential lines?”
Her eyes flew to his. “Really?”
“Sure. It’ll be fun. What do you have worked out already?”
“Well . . .” She took a deep, calming breath through her nose and pulled her shoulders back far enough to do her mama proud. “This fireplace actually has a lot of potential.” She ran her free hand over the mantle the same way Wilder had moments earlier. “All it needs is some sprucing up.”
Wilder nodded encouragingly. “But isn’t it an ugly-as-sin monstrosity that should be gutted along with the kitchen?”
“Structurally, it’s in great shape.” Kneeling, she motioned for him to follow her lead. “It just needs a good sweeping. Wait till you see what we found behind this gross facade.” She pulled off one of the pieces to reveal an original late nineteenth-century hearth.
Wilder let out an appropriate whistle. “Hot damn.” And impressively, he sounded legitimately thrilled and tickled considering he and Felix were the ones who’d discovered the hidden treasure during their preliminary walk-through.
“We can definitely work with this. We’ll build a new mantle.”
“Maybe a solid piece of native cedar. We could put some chunky candlesticks on it.” Her heart fluttered imagining how good that would actually look. “Create an even cozier setting.”
He nodded. “Good, good. I like that. And we’ll clean up the original brick.”
The more they painted the picture, the more she wanted to bring it to life. “It’ll be like stepping into good old Texas—stunning.”
“Definitely stunning.” His eyes lifted to hers, and her breath caught. He winked, and she was pretty sure she’d never breathe again. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She blinked and cleared the lump out of her throat. “That was it?”
“Yep.” Rising, he offered his hand. Pulling her up, he gave a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “You did great.”
“I did?” She couldn’t seem capable of more than parroting small phrases.
“You were light and breezy—definitely pithy.” His eyes crinkled around the edges. “Your passion for the work shines through and will definitely show up on camera. Just do that—keep being yourself—and viewers will love you.”
“I agree.” Renee stepped forward, back from her journey to find Waverly. She turned to the camera crew. “Did you get that?”
“Yep.”
“Great. I don’t think we’ll need to do a take in here with Waverly after all.”
Panic shot through Bailey. Oh, man. That probably wouldn’t sit well with her boss.
“Are you sure? Wilder and I were just messin’ around.”
“It was perfect.” Renee called for the crew to set the next shot, ending any additional argument.
Wilder lingered behind while the crew moved into another room. His lip curves up. “You’re a natural, kid.”
Even though she was still worried about pissing off Waverly her first week on the job, she couldn’t deny how nice it felt to receive a bit of praise. “Thanks, boss.”
He winked again before leaving her alone to collect the last of her materials—and her composure.
***
It took a few days, but Wilder finally got his wish. Rather than spend a night brainstorming and recapping with Renee, he was retiring for the night with a cold beer and a basketball game. He’d even managed to get back to the hotel in time to watch the tip-off.
As a reward for getting through the mind-numbing first week of filming—and without angering Waverly enough for her to walk out in the middle of a shoot—he was splitting a pizza and six-pack with Felix. He hadn’t even asked for a whole grain crust or light cheese. No, after a long week, he could indulge.
Felix could hardly stand his orders. “It’s not right. All that chick food you eat. It’s not right.”
“Somehow I don’t think womankind as a whole would appreciate your referring to salads and light beer as ‘chick food.’”
“If the shoe fits . . .” Felix leaned forward and swiped another piece of pizza. “You always were worried about being PC. No wonder you defected to the North. You’re practically a Yankee.”
Wilder shrugged off the ribbing and snapped up one of the smaller slices. No matter how many times he explained it, Felix didn’t understand. It wasn’t that he liked watching what he ate. He just preferred it to the alternative: seeing his chubby face and gut blown up a hundred times on billboards. Some might call it vanity. They wouldn’t be wholly wrong.
But until there came a day when his face wasn’t plastered all over TVs, computers, and the like, he’d keep it tight.
“So . . .” Felix drawled out when the last slice of pizza was gone. “What’s the plan?”
“Plan?”
“Your contract is up for negotiation after you finish this shoot, right?”
“Yeah . . .”
&n
bsp; “Are you going to renew and go wherever your ex says? Or are you gonna grow a pair and stick around here?”
That was a good question. One he never let himself ponder too long, because it didn’t matter. So what if every so often the urge to stay put and plant some roots struck him? If that wasn’t what Waverly wanted, too, there was no sense in dreaming. Not if he wanted to be part of Virginia’s life.
He needed to be part of Virginia’s life.
“Don’t know.” He sipped his beer, hoping he seemed indifferent. “We’ll have to see.”
“Look, it’s probably none of my business.”
“Probably not.”
“But I have to ask—why are you so scared of Waverly?”
Wilder sputtered on a mouthful of beer. “I’m not afraid of Waverly.”
“You must be. You let her call all the shots.”
“I do not.” That was a lie and they both knew it. Maybe it was time to come clean—to Felix and to himself. “I’ve tried bringing it up a few times. The idea of not doing another season. Of just staying put in Toronto or wherever.”
“And she said no?”
“Not exactly. But any time she did, she’d make those same old noises about wanting to see the world and take Virginia along with her. That it was my call whether or not I wanted to be on board with it.”
“So she’s threatening to make it hard for you to see your girl?”
“Not in as many words, but pretty much. Yeah.”
“You could go to court. Finally get some sort of custody agreement down on paper with the law.”
He could, but only God knew how a lawsuit would turn out. In the meantime, he and Waverly would be dragged through the court of public opinion, which wouldn’t be pretty. Much as he didn’t want to be the star of a “celebrity” feud, he really didn’t want that for his parents or daughter. He’d like to think Waverly wouldn’t want that either, but these days, it was hard to tell what she wanted or who she was.
As long as that was a possibility. As long as Waverly had the power to control their futures, he’d keep his mouth shut and stay the course. Some things were more important than a man’s own wishes.
Chapter Five
The sun was crawling over the horizon when Bailey arrived at the project house on a Saturday morning. Starting that Monday, they would be handing the house over to the crew while they met with this season’s featured clients. This weekend would effectively be their last chance to walk through the house before the demo crew got to work. They’d been over and over the plans already, but everything had to be perfect.
Eyeing the house, Bailey’s heart pounded hard in her chest. If she stared hard enough, she could already see the finished product. They’d restore its former charm while giving it the modern conveniences a high-dollar homeowner would want. When the season was over, there’d be no doubt they’d left this little slice of Texas better than they’d found it.
Waverly’s SUV pulled up behind Bailey’s, and a pair of long legs clad in skinny jeans stepped out. The Design Network’s designer of the year, stylishly dressed in a military cut jacket, knee-high boots, and oversized sunglasses, raised a hand in silent greeting. One of the rear doors swung open and out came Virginia and her nanny.
Before either Bailey or Waverly had a chance to speak, Virginia rushed forward and threw her arms around Bailey’s legs. Beaming up, she squeezed. “I remember you.”
“And I remember you.” How could Bailey forget after their first meeting? “Did you have a nice visit with your grandparents?”
Virginia’s head bobbed up and down furiously. “I had so much candy. It was the best.”
“She’ll be burning off that sugar rush until she starts kindergarten.” Waverly had to jog to catch up with her daughter. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, I—” Bailey glanced back down to Virginia, who still had her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. “Do you want to go inside?”
“Are you here to help us make the house pretty?”
Charmed, Bailey knelt down to Virginia’s level. “That’s the plan. Do you have any ideas on what we should do?”
Her little face scrunched up thoughtfully before she nodded enthusiastically.
“What do you think?”
“Well . . .” Virginia tapped her chin, the same way her father did when he was speculating for the cameras. “First, we need to fix the holes on this porch. Then, we need to paint it. And the whole house. We have to do somethin’ about the trim.”
Bailey cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Waverly. “Are you sure you need me around when you have this little wonder on your hands?”
“That ‘little wonder’ is the reason we need you around.”
“Come on.” Virginia slipped her hand in Bailey’s and tugged. “I want to go pick out my room.”
Sharing an amused glance with the nanny, Bailey followed orders. Waverly and Wilder might not be her only bosses on this shoot.
***
The next few weeks flew by in a blur. After finishing the plans on the project house, the rehab crew was already at work knocking out walls and reinforcing the foundation. While that went on, Wilder and Waverly met with their first round of clients on camera. As part of the process, they toured dozens of homes and came up with preliminary designs.
Where they went, Bailey went. What Waverly needed done, Bailey did. When the bosses needed something done, she did it, all the while snapping photos for Waverly’s social media profiles. She took her sketchpad with her everywhere and created digital 3-D mock-ups on her tablet.
It meant late nights and early mornings. More often than not, Bailey fell asleep still poring over designs, often still wearing her clothes from the day before. But it was worth it. Every bit of effort brought her a step closer to seeing her designs come to life.
Her designs. She got a thrill thinking about them that way.
A month ago, she was getting coffees for a senior designer and secretly sketching designs that would never be considered, let alone used. Now, her ideas were actually being put to use.
Okay, she was still picking up coffees for her bosses on the way to the job site every day. Who cared about busywork like that when she was doing what she loved?
Balancing yet another crate of cups—each labeled for its recipient—Bailey struggled with the front door. She had to get just the right grip or risk losing her design materials and the coffee.
“Hey!” She turned to watch Felix jog from his truck to meet her. “I’ve got it.”
She stepped back and gave him an appreciative grin while he opened the door. Safely inside, she dropped her bag and handed over the cup with his name scribbled on the side.
“Oh, man. You really don’t have to keep getting me coffee.”
“Want me to hold on to this then?”
“No.”
“Then just take it and say, ‘Thank you, ma’am.’”
He took the offered cup and mumbled, “Thank you, ma’am.”
She glanced around the empty foyer. “Where are the bosses?”
Felix removed the lid from his cup and blew on the dark liquid before taking a small sip. “Doesn’t look like Waverly’s in yet. But the other boss is probably in the kitchen.”
Bailey left him with his drink and moved toward the back of the house. On the way, she delivered coffees to Renee and her production assistant and a few of the guys from Felix’s crew.
With only three coffees left, she hovered in the doorway just outside the kitchen. Sure enough, Wilder was there, kneeling in front of the massive stone fireplace. She swallowed hard, wishing her heart didn’t pound a little harder whenever he was around. If the message boards were to be believed, she wasn’t the only person crushing on the totally unavailable Wilder Aldrich. But unlike the other women—and men—out there, she had to get a grip because he was her very real boss.
She cleared her throat and Wilder glanced over his shoulder. “Hey.”
“Hey. Where’s Waverly?”
“She’s gone.”
Bailey almost dropped the coffees but regained her wits in time. “What do you mean she’s gone?”
“I mean,” he went back to testing the brick around the fireplace, “she grabbed a flight to New York last night for . . . an impromptu meeting with the network execs.” Wiping his hands on his jeans, he rose to his feet and pointed to the coffee. “Is one of those for me?”
She nodded dumbly and handed his cup over. “But if Waverly isn’t here, what am I supposed to do?”
“Help me move on to the next phase of this project by coming up with your brilliant designs.” He raised his cup in silent toast. “Thank you, ma’am.” His eyes sparkled just enough to let her know he’d been eavesdropping on her and Felix.
“No problem.” Could her boss really just skip out of town in the middle of a shoot? Without even sending a text or email? “But . . .”
“What would you do with the fireplace? Assuming everything with it is structurally sound, and knowing the homeowners’ tastes, what would you do?”
Bailey chewed on the inside of her cheek and considered. “If it’s structurally sound, I’d paint the brick . . . white . . . and add a new mantle. Maybe some rustic wood with a dark finish.”
Wilder nodded. “Do you have your sketchpad and tablet?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. We’ll draw out your ideas, and we’ll add it to the work list once we get the homeowners’ blessing.”
“Shouldn’t we check it over with Waverly first?”
“Bailey Honey, she isn’t here, and we can’t sit around and wait.” He squeezed her shoulder on his way to the other side of the kitchen to carry on his pre-demo inspection of the house. “When she’s gone, we do things your way.”
Following after him, she wasn’t done voicing her concerns. “But what if she doesn’t like my ideas?”
“Then that’s the price she pays for scheduling all of these last-minute meetings with network execs. But you don’t need to worry. We trust your judgment. You know the market, and now you know the customers. We trust you.”
Leaving her to consider his vote of confidence, he called out a greeting to Felix, effectively dismissing the conversation. She supposed it was a good thing her bosses trusted her implicitly to do the right thing. She could come up with designs, good ones, on her own. But she still couldn’t shake the fear that Waverly might not agree.
Playing House Page 6
