Playing House

by Laura Chapman

  “Why? Why pretend—why create the illusion you’re together if you’re not?”

  The answer was obvious. It was for the show. She imagined the DN would rather feature a couple than business partners. She understood that, but it was disappointing. She wanted Wilder to be better than someone who made his decisions based on the five-figure paycheck that came with each episode. That—even more than the revelation—shook her.

  “Before you decide to hate me, can I explain?”

  She stared down at their linked hands. Her mind was a blur of questions, but she wasn’t sure there were enough answers—at least not the ones she wanted to hear. And after he told her everything, how could she go on pretending she was still in the dark? How would she ever look at Wilder or Waverly without seeing “LIAR” and “HOAXERS” floating over their heads?

  It wasn’t fair, but she could probably get over Waverly’s deceit easily enough. For one, she didn’t know her that well yet. She was her boss—and one who only talked to her about work. For another . . . her part in this scheme wasn’t that surprising. She was driven enough to do whatever it took to succeed.

  But Wilder . . . Bailey wanted him to be the simple Texas boy who stumbled upon success after working hard for it. His thumb glided across her knuckles absently. Despite the double dose of shock, despite the emotions waging a war inside her, his calloused thumb scraping against her knuckles sent a shiver of lust through her.

  “Okay. Explain.”

  Releasing his hold, Wilder sat next to her on the blocks. “Waverly and I started dating when we were in our early twenties. We met on a job site. She was a design assistant and I was the contractor. We started a renovation firm together using both of our skills. That part’s true.”

  She bobbed her head to show she was listening, but she didn’t speak. Not yet.

  “After setting up in New York City, we moved to Toronto to start another branch of our business with some help from her dad. The business grew, but the relationship didn’t.” He let out a humorless laugh. “The opposites attract deal of ours makes for great TV, but it didn’t work in our relationship. We broke up but decided to keep working together. A month after we split, she found out she was pregnant.”

  “With Virginia?”

  He nodded. “And that’s when everything changed.”

  “I can imagine it did.” She moistened her lips while she bought another second to think. “Having a baby changes everything.”

  “This was the same time I found out Waverly had been shopping us around to different networks with hopes of getting a show. The DN offered us a deal, and Waverly wanted to take it. I wasn’t so sure. They were offering a lot of money, and it would give our business big exposure. Still, I was fine with the work we had. I didn’t want to have my face plastered on TV or in magazines.”

  He scratched the back of his neck, then let his hand fall to the side. “When I told Waverly we should maybe focus on what we already had—and figure out how we were going to raise the baby together—she said she’d already accepted. And she would find another contractor-type if I didn’t want to come along. By then, they’d already figured out how the show would work. We’d be in a different location each season, with two seasons filming each year. If I didn’t agree . . .”

  “You wouldn’t get to see Virginia. Not often.” Her heart pitched. “You agreed so you could be with her?”

  “I’ll do anything—even be on a TV show and pretend to be married to Waverly—if it means getting to be with my daughter.”

  “So how does the work side of your business work?”

  His brow creased. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re away from New York and Toronto a good chunk of the year filming. She stays at the project house. You stay in a hotel. You fix up the project house. Then you help homeowners repair their current homes or help them find new ones. I get that side. But what happens when you go back to Canada or New York? What do you do then?”

  “We still have small staffs up north running our shops. They do smaller projects—usually only a couple of rooms—planning, then building the renovation. They also oversee most of the product line and fulfill the orders that come in on our website.”

  It all made some kind of sense. On TV, it seemed like they were super involved with their business interests back home. But she supposed they were no different than any other moguls in the making. As she’d learned, what happened in real life usually looked a lot different than what you saw on TV.

  Watching her closely, Wilder let out a breath. “Say something.”

  “What am I supposed to say?”

  “Anything.” He reached for her again but stopped. “The truth. Whatever is on your mind.”

  What was on her mind? Wilder’s revelations had her more perplexed than resolved. But on some level, she got it. She understood how Wilder ended up in this situation.

  She maybe even admired him a little. That was mind-blowing, because lying tended to make her skin crawl. Yet the only thing her skin was doing at that moment was still tingling from when his hand held hers. She supposed this wasn’t a straight-up lie. And she supposed she preferred this scenario—him pretending to be in a relationship when he was really single—to him being good and truly taken and her lusting after him.

  The lie wasn’t so black-and-white. It was done in the name of good. While her father told lie after lie to cover his running around on her mama—then kept up the practice to get out of spending time with his daughters—Wilder was lying to make sure he could be with his daughter. To keep his family together.

  While her mind worked through everything Wilder had just told her, there was one question that rose to the top.

  “Why are you telling me?”

  “What?”

  “Why tell me now? You could have easily come up with some story about how you prefer the privacy of working out in the motel gym to being at one of the chains or something like that. Why tell me the truth?”

  “Because . . .” He ran a hand over his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. “I needed you to know.”

  Her heart flipped. “Why?”

  His hazel eyes set on hers. “You know why.”

  With those whispered words, the fluttering in her heart moved down to her stomach. She fought a grin. Was this Wilder’s way of saying he liked her? And how juvenile did that sound? “Like” her. Regardless, if this was Wilder’s way of saying he had feelings for her, too, it was a mixed bag.

  Even if Wilder was legally free to crush on, it was still way too complicated. Even Paige—with her ability to compartmentalize emotional connections with physical desires—would be hard-pressed to figure out how to navigate this situation if she was in Bailey’s boots.

  Hesitating, Wilder reached over again and took her hands. “I don’t have some big plan on what I’m hoping to accomplish by telling you this. I just can’t keep lying to you. You . . . matter too much for lies. Even if they’re lies of omission.”

  As if she wasn’t already struggling enough with her feelings and what to do about them, there he went, making it even harder. How was she supposed to be professional on set when she kept wondering what it would be like to lean forward just a few more inches to kiss him? How was she supposed to stop wondering about that now that she knew it could happen?

  ***

  She had taken the news pretty well. Or as well as Wilder could have hoped. When he’d told Bailey that basically everything she’d believed about him was a lie, he half expected her to slug him. He would’ve deserved it. She also could have walked out on the job and told them to find someone else to finish out the season. But she hadn’t. She’d come to work the next day, with a crate of coffees, just like it was any other day.

  Instead of pitching a fit, she’d listened to his explanation, asked a few questions, then excused herself to take a post-workout shower.

  If she was punishing him by making him overthink everything now, well, it was working.

  Naturally, Waverly wa
s still nowhere to be seen. Renee had come back from the weekend in New York City with a message that his other (on-screen) half would be back soon.

  Their daughter had come home from her latest visit to Sugar Land. The excitement had kept her from missing her mama too much, but that would wear off soon. Waverly still called every day, but it wasn’t the same as having her around.

  He shouldn’t complain too much. It meant more one-on-one time with Virginia. It had also given his parents some quality time with their only grandchild. He should be grateful—and he was—for both opportunities.

  But it couldn’t go on like this forever. His father had told him as much when they’d come up to spend another long weekend with Virginia.

  “At some point,” he’d said, “you and that woman are going to have to come to terms about this life you’ve created.”

  His father hadn’t just meant Virginia. He’d meant the whole thing—their businesses up north and the TV show. Pops was right. They would have to come to terms with all of it. Unless Wilder could figure out exactly what he wanted from those terms, he wasn’t going to be worth much in life negotiations. Waverly had a long history of kicking his ass. If he was going in for a fight, he needed a plan. Until then, he’d keep his mouth shut.

  Bailey stepped into the room, distracting him from his sulk. He couldn’t help but admire the way she easily bantered with one of the crew members putting a fresh coat of white paint on some old boards. The way her eyes lit up and crinkled around the edges. The sway of her hips when she shifted from one foot to the other. The curve of her neck as she reached forward to point out a spot that needed a second coat. He’d like to trace that curve with his fingers, or better yet, his mouth.

  The warmth in his chest moved south. Clearing his throat, he turned back to the fireplace.

  Felix crouched next to him to inspect the mason work. “Not too bad, boss.”

  He grunted a response because he wasn’t in the mood for chitchat at the moment.

  “I’ve gotta admit, I always figured you saved most of the hands-on work for the days the cameras were around.”

  “The work has to get done whether or not it gets screen time.” Wilder swiped another coat of spackle over the chipped brick. He placed another slab of Austin stone tile on it. Bailey was right. The stone was the perfect look for this room.

  “What are you doing for lunch?”

  The sudden shift in subjects had Wilder’s head spinning. “I hadn’t thought much about it.”

  On filming days, they had tables of food set out for the crew. On straight-up work days, they usually sent out for sandwiches.

  “I was hoping you might be up for taking a break to meet someone—a woman I’m sort of seeing.”

  His hand froze with the spackling knife midswipe. He gaped at Felix. “Come again?”

  “I’d like you to meet the woman I’m dating.”

  “That’s what I thought you said. You’re not usually the kind of guy who introduces his flings to his friends.”

  “This one’s different.”

  Felix wanted to introduce a woman. Was it possible he’d sustained some sort of on-the-job injury and this was all some kind of dream? Maybe he should start wearing a hard hat on demolition day just in case. His daughter needs him to be around for at least the next fourteen years or so. He couldn’t afford to scramble his brains.

  “It’s Bailey’s sister.”

  Wilder’s eyebrows shot up. “Didn’t you just meet her on Friday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you’re already serious enough you want to introduce her to your friends?” Wilder shook his head. He wasn’t the one who’d sustained some kind of traumatic brain injury. It must have been Felix. “Ever heard of taking it slow, buddy?”

  “That’s not really an option in this situation.”

  Wilder adjusted one of the stones. “Why not?”

  “I kind of get the feeling I have to make a big impression and fast with this one.”

  “Why?”

  “A few things Bailey mentioned.”

  Wilder turned away from the fireplace. “Bailey told you to make a big and fast impression?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Are you sure she didn’t tell you to run for your life?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “You’re starting to repeat yourself.” Wilder wiped his hands on a rag, even though he’d managed not to get too much of the adhesive mixture on them. “Maybe you need help.”

  “Come on, man. She wants to meet you.”

  Oh. Wilder understood the situation now. Bailey had mentioned her sister was a big fan of the show. By now, she’d probably already filled Felix in on that tidbit. He wanted Wilder to get in there and be his bait. That was messed up. He couldn’t do something so degrading for both of them.

  Wilder’s stomach whined, a painful reminder he’d only grabbed an apple for breakfast. He could go for something more substantial than a salad for lunch. “Are you buying?”

  “Seriously? You pull in six figures a year and you want me to buy you a sandwich?”

  “Make it a burrito, and we have a deal.”

  Felix’s face twisted into a frown, but realizing he’d backed himself into a corner by showing all of his cards too soon, he offered his hand. “We have a deal.”

  Wilder took it. Instead of giving him a firm handshake as planned, they ended up in some sort of impromptu arm-wrestling tournament using an upside-down tub as their base. Wilder took the early lead and was about to pin Felix’s arm, when, drawing on some unforeseen energy reservoir, Felix overpowered him and gained the lead. Not ready to admit defeat, Wilder bit down on his lip and added extra force.

  A small crowd gathered around. Crew members placed their bets. A fair number sided with Wilder. Their loyalty to Felix apparently only went so far. Out of the corner of his eye, Wilder caught Bailey and Renee make a wager of their own. His eyes narrowed into slits. There was no way Renee would bet against him. She knew where her paycheck came from, which meant . . . He couldn’t believe it. Bailey was cheering against him.

  She met his fiery gaze. Her lips twitched, giving the slightest hint of a smile.

  Oh, it was on.

  More determined than ever, Wilder sucked in a breath and, using every ounce of power, he slammed Felix’s arm down. The crowd let out a mixture of cheers and jeers while Felix shook out his limp hand, wincing. Wilder didn’t have the energy to gloat. There was a chance he might have torn a ligament somewhere in his arm.

  Ignoring the throbbing ache, he looked for Bailey again. He was ready to give her grief for hitching her cart to the loser. The reproach halted as she took twenty bucks from Renee.

  His jaw dropped. “You bet against me?”

  Renee had the grace to look a little guilty. “She gave me really good odds.”

  “What were the terms?”

  “She got twenty if you won, and she’d pay out eighty if you lost.” Renee shrugged. “It seemed like a good way to score some fast cash if Felix ended up sneaking in a win.”

  “Hey!” Felix shouted. “I almost had him.”

  Wilder watched Bailey tuck the bills into her back pocket without saying anything. Catching his stare, she winked. Well, hot damn.

  Pushing himself up, he offered Felix a hand. This time, they used the leverage to help each other stand. They were both still sore enough, and Wilder doubted either would challenge the other to a rematch any time soon.

  While cash continued to change hands around them, Bailey stepped forward. “Nicely done. Even if you had me worried there for a second.”

  “Nah, I had him all along.” Wilder shrugged and winced at the pain that shot through his shoulder. Bailey noticed the grunt but said nothing. “I’m usually a safe bet.”

  “Is that so?” Her eyes sparkled, and she turned to Felix. “Is Wilder coming to lunch with us?”

  “You’re coming, too?”

  “Of course. I can’t expect Felix to do a prop
er job of introducing my sister. He barely knows her.”

  Before Felix could offer any insight on the subject, Wilder casually slung an arm around her shoulder, pleased when she didn’t pull back. “Come on, Bailey. This man is going to buy us a round of burritos.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Bailey discovered Waverly was back in town when she pulled up to the craftsman house in North Austin and found her boss pacing the front porch. It was such a shock to see her—in the flesh—that Bailey did a double take. No one had expected her today. Granted, as Wilder pointed out during lunch the other day, no one knew when to expect her. She’d been MIA for a couple of weeks and hadn’t revealed much of her plans in the handful of texts and calls she’d placed from New York City.

  Still, after a couple of weeks balancing both jobs, it was a relief to see her. It was also a relief that Bailey had stuck to her routine of coming to work with an extra coffee just in case.

  Incidentally, Bailey was probably going to suffer the effects of caffeine withdrawal. For weeks, she’d been drinking her usual cup of coffee and Waverly’s. In all likelihood, she’d end up with a twitchy eye or a serious need of a nap without her double dose.

  Hearing Bailey’s arrival, Waverly strutted down the steps and the cracked walkway to meet her.

  “Hey, welcome back.”

  “Just what the fuck have you been trying to pull?”

  Bailey blinked in shock. Apparently, Waverly had seen the dailies and knew Bailey had been called in as a sub. That said, there’d been no pulling of any kind. She’d been following orders.

  This was a stepping stone. The ticket to bigger and better things. She needed to do well on the Playing House crew if she wanted to someday open her own interior design business. Doing well wouldn’t be enough. She had to wow Waverly; otherwise, nothing else mattered. Reminding herself of that was enough to drop her blood pressure and let the comment slide.

  Determined to keep her emotions in check, Bailey handed over a coffee cup as a silent peace offering.

  Waverly shakily snatched the cup. Then, jaw clenched, she hurled it at Bailey’s SUV.