That was something that kept him up at night. What happened when Virginia started school? Would they continue to uproot her every six months and put her in a different school? Like she was a military brat moving from base to base? Did they hire a tutor and have her study in a room at the project house while they made a TV show?
He heard that’s what child actors did on TV shows. While they might pretend otherwise, that’s essentially what she was. They’d made her part of their TV show. She was a recognizable face to their fans. They’d made that decision for her before she was old enough to have a say. It was something he and Waverly had decided together. The producers had pitched it. They thought having Virginia on-screen as a visible link between the two of them would help sell them as a couple. With his eyes and nose and Waverly’s hair and lips, there was no denying she was theirs.
That disproved the naysayers who occasionally wrote out their conspiracy theories on message boards. Technically, they were right to doubt whether or not Wilder and Waverly were a couple, but they were wrong to general opinion.
At the time, it had made sense to put Virginia on the show. They’d made sure she wasn’t on-screen too often. They never showed anything too personal. Still, they’d given her a media presence. He’d always wondered if that had been the right decision.
Especially now that she was older. They’d been nomads her whole life. Maybe it was time to plant roots so she could have a chance at a normal childhood. Or at least as normal as any childhood could be.
That was another conversation for yet another day. He and Waverly would have to at least be in the same room to make a decision that big. He’d have to keep his cool when they did. He would. That was Wilder: Mr. Cool.
***
After two episodes of the game, Bailey no longer thought she was going to die. But she also wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever be able to walk again. The room spun too much when she tried to stand.
The opening credits rolled for the third episode, and Felix turned to Bailey shaking the bottle of tequila. “Do we dare another episode?”
“Yes.” She propped herself up on the pile of pillows on the couch. “But this is our last one.”
“That’s what people always say.” He shook his head. “That’s how the DN gets away with showing these same episodes over and over again.”
“Suckers.”
He snorted and topped off a row of shot glasses. She gaped at him. “I remember this episode. Trust me. We’re going to need all of these in the first thirty seconds.”
She groaned but pushed herself up to hunch over the coffee table. She wanted to be ready to play when the time came. Sure enough, within the first thirty seconds, Waverly decided to take down a wall at the project house, and Wilder talked about what made the hardwood floors in this particular house so important.
(Spoiler alert: It was because they were original, and the house dated back before the Civil War. This house was in a battleground state so, duh, history.)
Still gasping for breath after the back-to-back shots, Bailey’s phone started ringing. She checked the display on the screen and frowned.
Noticing the change in her demeanor, Felix asked, “Who is it?”
“Wrong number.” Because it had to be a mistake. There was no other reason her father would call, unless it was an accident. More likely than not, he’d hit her number by mistake. Or maybe he’d seen “Bailey” in his cell phone and couldn’t quite place the owner of the number.
She hadn’t heard from him since she’d graduated from grad school. He’d texted to say he was sorry he couldn’t make it but he was depositing an undisclosed sum of money into her account as a gift. She’d been tempted to send the money back without comment. She almost did. Then she recognized how stupid it would be to throw away cash when she had a pile of debt. So she’d made a large payment on her student loans and decided not to give the man who’d helped give her life another thought.
Her phone rang again. She nearly ignored this call before realizing it was a different number on her display. Ignoring the drama unfolding on the screen (“Can you believe the previous owners covered those hardwoods?” Time for another shot.), she answered.
“Heeeeee-eeeeeeyyyyy.”
Paige chuckled. “Sounds like someone is having a little bit of fun on a Friday night.”
“I am.” Her eyes widened. “Oh shit. I should have called to see if you wanted to hang out with us.”
“Us?”
“Felix and me.” She waved at her partner in crime, who had taken an interest in the phone conversation. She covered the receiver and theatrically mouthed, “It’s my sister.” “He’s the carpenter. We’re playing this really fun game, and you’d totally love it.”
Felix paused the show and mouthed back, “Tell her to come over.”
“You should totally come. We’re hanging out at the motel. We have plenty of . . .” She glanced around at the half-eaten pizza, breadsticks, and junk food littering the coffee table along with their drinks. “Carbs. You can come have carbs with us.”
“Funny you should mention . . .” Paige trailed off. “I actually took a chance that you might want some company tonight . . . aaaannnnnddd . . . I’m standing outside the motel.”
Bailey let out an excited whoop and a promise to meet her in two minutes. She hung up and caught Felix watching her closely, an eyebrow raised.
“Everything okay?”
“Perfect. My sister is already here.”
“No shit?”
She nodded. “Let’s go get her.”
It took both of them working together to find the motel lobby—there were a lot of hallways. She bet people got lost there all the time.
Paige was pacing back and forth in the lobby when they finally located it. Spotting them, she froze. What was she—Oh. She was staring at Felix. Like he was a piece of meat. And he—Bailey let out a sigh—was looking at her like he’d like to sample whatever she was offering. Even in her drunken stupor, she could practically feel the heat transmitting between them. It was already on, and they hadn't even said one word to each other.
Not him. Not her. Not happening. It wasn’t a matter of jealousy. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t care who her sister tagged as her next conquest. But he was going to fall for her—they always did. She would leave him brokenhearted. Then Bailey would still have to work with him for the next four or five months while he moped around and asked what he could have done to make it work. No matter how many times she told him he’d done nothing wrong—no matter how often she said the Meredith girls just weren’t cut out for a lifetime of monogamy—he wouldn’t care. In his eyes, Paige Meredith would always be the one who got away, the one who stole his heart, the one who left him a broken man.
Bailey loved her sister. More than anything in the world. But she also understood their limitations.
They weren’t built for happily ever afters. It wasn’t part of their makeup. A person only had to look at their dad—the dick who left his family. Which he repeated two more times before Paige and Bailey even had a chance to get to know their stepmoms.
Then there was their mama. She’d been with Roger for almost twenty years, but she was so jaded by what happened with their dad she’d never been willing to say “I do” again. Not even to a good man like Roger.
Felix seemed like a good man, too. Even if he was eyeing her sister like she was the best present under the Christmas tree. A present he couldn’t wait to unwrap.
Paige wouldn’t mean to break his heart. She never did. If it was any consolation to any of the guys on her ex list, it was never easy for her. She might pretend they came in and out of her life with no problems. But every so often she got a little attached. Things got hard. They’d fight. She’d run away, and that brave facade would crack.
Anyone who said it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all had never met Paige.
That’s why Bailey figured life was easier when there weren’t anyone else’s fee
lings to worry about. That wasn’t being selfish. No, when you were a mess, you were just saving someone else from disaster.
Before she could shout out a warning to either of them, Felix introduced himself. Paige gave her best sultry eye. And Bailey stood in the background, gaping like a goof.
Too late. Her good intentions were just going to have to be enough. She hoped he wasn’t a baby when Paige eventually froze him out. Then again, who knew? Maybe they’d make this a long-term thing. By long-term, she meant it would at least last until they finished principle filming and she no longer had to suffer the fallout.
Maybe she could gently encourage Felix to not be overly demanding and play it cool. She could also not-so-gently tell her sister not to go into full Paige Mode until the fall.
It was a solid plan, actually. One she’d come up with on tequila brain, which made it all the more impressive from her perspective.
“Would you ladies like to head back to the room to play another round of Playing House?” Felix asked, his arm already easily wrapped around Paige’s shoulders.
“That sounds awesome.” Paige flashed a bright smile, before wiggling her eyebrows and mouthing “so hot” to Bailey.
She stepped forward, but her stomach lurched. The idea of drinking more beer and tequila had her insides quaking. “You guys go ahead.” She sucked in a few shallow breaths. “I’m going to grab some fresh air. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
“Are you sure?” For the flash of a second, Paige’s face grew concerned. “You’re awfully pale.”
If she wanted, Bailey could pull the ultimate cock block. She could feign illness—which wouldn’t be much of a stretch given the little bout of post-shots nausea she was experiencing. Paige would take her back to her room. They’d curl up in front of the TV for a Criminal Minds marathon and pretend she’d never met Felix.
Given the way he was eyeing her, and the glances Paige kept sneaking, Bailey would only be delaying the inevitable. If they didn’t hit it off tonight, they would the next time they run into each other. They’d definitely try to run into each other after this.
Bailey waved her off. “I’m always pale in the winter. Go ahead. I’ll see you soon.”
Like in the morning, when Paige texted to find out if they could meet up for breakfast so she could recap the night with Felix. Because there was no way Bailey was going back to his room that night. She still had some mystery with her sister. She’d never walked in on her, and she’d like to keep it that way.
Almost like Paige was reading her thoughts—which was quite possible, given how much time they’d spent together in their lives—the worry slipped away and she wiggled her eyebrows. Yeah, Bailey wouldn’t see her again any time soon.
Felix still had a little grace left in him to play the gentleman. “Are you—”
“Go.”
With a “yes, ma’am,” he and Paige were on their way down the hallway maze. Still wanting to clear her head, Bailey slipped out the front doors and plopped down on the bench. This was better. Fresh air. That’s all she needed. Fresh air and room to breathe.
Chapter Nine
By the time Wilder clocked out of the project house for the night, he’d worked up a good appetite. That was no small wonder—it was almost ten. He hadn’t planned to stick around so late. But he’d gotten a little caught up finishing the trim in the bedroom that would be Virginia’s.
He’d spoken with her that afternoon. By all accounts, she was having a blast with her Nana and Pops again. No surprise there. His parents were born to be grandparents. Wilder hoped she hadn’t picked up too many bad habits that they’d have to break. Again. Waverly would pitch a fit.
The trim in her room was perfect at least. While he was supposed to be the big-picture guy on the projects, sometimes it was nice to get in there and do something so task-oriented. It was productive and tangible. In that moment, it was just him and the coat of paint. It was easy to forget about the countless other odds and ends that had to be taken care of during the renovation. It was also a way to work off the frustration and anger he’d been carrying with him.
Maybe he’d call Felix to see if he was free. He wouldn’t mind a beer and company. He’d worked off his irritation, but he could still use some distraction.
Distraction from wishing he could actually call up Bailey to see if she wanted to grab that beer. She’d been distant since the day the kitchen flooded. Not that he blamed her. Things had gotten a little intense. Even though he knew it was for the best that he kept her in the dark a while longer, he wanted to tell her. Almost as much as he wanted to kiss her.
But like figuring out what to do after this season, it was an issue for another day.
He pulled into the motel parking lot and frowned at the figure seated on the bench outside the lobby. Was that . . .
“Son of a . . .” The source of his distraction was standing—or rather sitting—between him and his beer. Was she barefoot? And where the hell was her jacket? It was too chilly—and late—to be out for nighttime strolls without shoes and a jacket. It didn’t make sense. Bailey was far too reasonable to do something so dumb. Unless . . .
“Shit.” Something must be wrong. Maybe she was hurt or sick. What if someone had attacked her?
That possibility had him racing across the lot and kneeling in front of her. “Are you . . . okay?” He caught his breath between wheezes. “Bailey? Honey, are you hurt? What happened?”
Her eyes lifted to his. “Hey. Where’d you come from?” She reached forward to touch his face but missed her mark. She grabbed hold of his shoulder, and he pulled her upright to keep her steady. The sudden movement sent out a gust of air smelling suspiciously like tequila and beer. Both of which a certain contractor friend of his kept stocked in his fridge.
“Are you drunk?”
She hiccupped. “Maybe a little.”
He gritted his teeth. “Were you drinking alone or did you have an accomplice?”
“A-ccomp-lish?” She hiccupped again. “That’s an awfully big word for a million o’clock at night.”
It took every ounce of his patience not to drag her inside so he could pound on Felix’s door. Her chattering teeth reminded him of where they were and how she was dressed—in an old T-shirt and baggy shorts. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
She beamed up at him stupidly. “You’re one of the good ones. It’s a pity.”
“What’s a pity?” He slipped her arms through the sleeves and zipped her into the jacket.
“That what they say is true.”
“What’s that, honey?” Damn. There he went dropping in that endearment without meaning, again. He was getting sappy on top of being pathetic. “What do people say?” he prompted when she’d become distracted by playing with the hairs on the back of his neck, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine and settling into his gut.
With a sigh, she dropped her hands into her lap. “That all the good ones are gay or married.”
His heart hitched. “Is that so?”
“Yep.” She gave another heavy sigh. “I just wish you weren’t one of them.”
“What? One of the good guys?”
“No. You should be one of the good guys.” Her golden eyes met his. “I wish you weren’t one of the married ones. That’s bad of me to say, isn’t it?”
“No.” He shook his head and took her icy hands into his, rubbing them to share some of his warmth. The gesture sent another jolt of electricity through him, one that was getting harder and harder to ignore. “It isn’t bad of you. And Bailey?”
“Yeah?”
“Sometimes people get what they wish for.” The words sounded smug and stupid once they were out, but he didn’t care about semantics. As of this moment, he was decided. He was going to come clean with her about Waverly when she was sober. He needed to clear the air between them.
He just needed her to focus for a few more minutes until he could prod a few more answers out of her. He opened his mouth
to ask her about Felix, but she covered his hands with hers.
“Do you know what else I wish?” Her voice was low and breathy, stoking the need building inside him.
“What?” he croaked out. Damn. Pull yourself together, man.
“I wish . . .” She inched forward, close enough that her breath warmed his lips. “That I could kiss you.”
He swallowed hard. It would be so easy to lean forward and take her mouth with his. “I’d like that, too.”
She closed her eyes and let out a breath that was almost a whimper. “It wouldn’t be good.”
She was wrong about that. If he had his lips on her, good wouldn’t even come close to describing how it would be. The longer he sat there staring at her, the more he wanted to discover exactly how it would feel to explore every inch of her. All he had to do was inch forward.
No. He pulled back, snapping out of his haze. Even if kissing Bailey right that second wouldn’t complicate everything, she was drunk. She might say she wanted to kiss him, but she wasn’t thinking clearly. He wasn’t going to take that choice away from her.
Instead, he cleared his throat. “Where’s Felix?”
“With Paige.”
“Paige?”
“My sister.” She sighed again and squeezed his hands. “He’s about to become her next victim.”
“Victim?”
“My sister is a smart, creative, and beautiful woman.” Bailey absently traced designs on the back of his hands. It took every ounce of his willpower to focus on her words instead of the tremors she was sending through him with the easy caress. “But she’s a man-eater.”
“Man-eater?” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, irritated at his inability to do more than ask one-word questions in his rattled state.
“She finds men and makes them love her. Then she breaks their hearts. She never means to do it,” Bailey rushed out. “We just aren’t good at these sorts of things.”
Playing House Page 10
