Mr. Fixer Upper

by Lucy Score

  “I don’t buy it entirely,” she admitted.

  “So why are you wasting your time with us drivellers?”

  She went quiet on him, and he could feel her withdrawing on him. “Oh, no, princess. No shutting me out. What you whisper in my ear on this plane stays here. Besides, I told you about my nonni.”

  She sighed, and he knew he was close to winning.

  He pressed his luck. “How about this? You can tell me, and I will have no outward reaction whatsoever.”

  He had her. “You won’t ask any questions? Make any inappropriate comments?”

  “When have I made any inappropriate comments?”

  “I don’t know? Maybe when you called me ‘princess’ at my job for the last year.”

  Gannon took her hand and traced an x over his heart. “Cross my heart.”

  She studied him. And Gannon watched those cool blue eyes calculated the risk as her hand held steady over the thrum of his heart. She tried to tug it away, but he held fast.

  “Ugh. Okay,” Paige finally agreed, yanking her hand out from under his. Gannon leaned in, all ears.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” she demanded.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re going to take a bite out of me.”

  “See how much fun it is to say what’s on your mind?”

  She cleared her throat, ready to deliver a lecture. “Gannon, I need you to behave. I’m not about to start flirting with the star of my show. I’ve worked my ass off getting here, and I’m not going to have that derailed by people starting rumors about me and… you.”

  “I am behaving,” he argued. “I’m just waiting for my assistant director to stop stalling and tell me what she wants to do with her life that’s not reality TV.”

  She dropped her head back against the seat. “No outward reaction whatsoever,” she reminded him.

  “None,” he confirmed.

  “I want to produce and direct.”

  Gannon didn’t move a muscle. Paige met and held his gaze, but he didn’t break. She looked away and primly opened her book. Her disinterest in his reaction lasted all of thirty seconds.

  She slammed the book shut. “Okay. I’ll allow a small reaction.”

  “Then that would be ‘duh.’”

  “Duh?”

  Gannon shrugged. “You should already be a director. You had two years on Andy, and I like the guy, but the only reason he got it and you didn’t is because he’s got a dick and family relations. You end up doing half of his job anyway.”

  Paige blinked.

  “Cat and I pulled for you this season, but Andy’s the nephew of one of the suits, and they’re grooming him for one of the bigger shows.”

  “Well, hell.” Paige’s breath whooshed out of her, tension slipping from her slim shoulders.

  “It’s a tough industry for women,” Gannon said. “The network wanted to give Cat her own design special between seasons, and she turned it down because she didn’t feel confident enough to demand to call the shots yet.”

  He could see Paige’s wheels turning. “It’s hard to imagine Cat with a confidence crisis,” she mused.

  “She wanted a little more experience under her belt before she said yes to anything else. She enjoys all this a lot more than I do. Eventually, I’ll get back to just contracting, but I think she’ll make this a long-term career.”

  Paige cocked her head, a smile playing on her pink lips. “You know, I’m not regretting our seating arrangement as much as I thought I would,” she admitted.

  Gannon laughed softly. “I’ll cherish that compliment always. So what do you want to produce?”

  “What makes you think it’s not a reality show?”

  “Ha,” he snorted. “You have about as much tolerance as I do for the shit. You’re just too professional to show it.”

  She didn’t bother confirming or denying, but Gannon knew he was right.

  “I’m still working on what kind of project I want,” she told him.

  She was lying to him. Those guileless blue eyes were looking down at the book in her lap again.

  “But you have to have some idea,” he wheedled. “And I trusted you.”

  She blew out a slow breath and stared at the seat in front of her. “My roommate and I are saving up to produce a documentary on women in the television industry. Pay gap, gender stereotypes, sexual harassment. And then we’ll flip it and look at women who have broken through to pave the way for the rest of us.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, you can imagine how unhappy Summit-Wingenroth would be to hear about my pet project.”

  “Are you quitting the show?” Gannon asked, suddenly seized by unease. He was just getting to know her. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye when he hadn’t figured her out yet.

  She shook her head. “Not for another season yet. Becca and I are saving up so we don’t need to do much if any crowd funding for the production. I need this season and next to come up with my half.”

  “You make shit money.”

  Paige laughed, not taking offense.

  It was true. For the amount of work that he saw her putting in on set, Gannon knew she should have been making almost double what she was.

  “We’ve been saving for two years now,” Paige continued. “And shit money is still money. We eat bananas and Ramen and drink tap water when there’s no craft services to be had.”

  Gannon leaned back in his seat assimilating the information she’d just given him. So not only was she not a network puppet, but Paige St. James wanted to pull back the curtain and reveal to the world the dirty goings on of television and the women who made it.

  “Tell me more,” he demanded.

  ––—

  When Paige started yawning at the end of every sentence, Gannon decided to let their conversation drop and let her rest. She got the least amount of sleep of anyone on the crew. First to arrive on set, last to leave. She set the example, and everyone else followed suit. When he looked at their little team, really looked, he realized Paige was the glue that kept them all moving, kept them all positive. And he felt like an idiot for not being more appreciative of it.

  When her head lolled to the side to rest against his shoulder and she snuggled into his side in her sleep, Gannon wondered if maybe it was time to renegotiate his no women policy.

  She was soft and warm against him, and that made him go hard and hot. The sun was setting outside their window as they flew over the mid-west bathing Paige’s face in a golden glow.

  He studied her at his leisure now. She had her hands tucked between her knees as if she didn’t trust them to stay still while she slept. Her eyes were closed under the fringe of long inky lashes, and her hair smelled like tropical islands. The worry line that resided between her eyebrows was absent right now. He could see her freckles scattered across her nose and cheekbones. Who knew he had a thing for freckles?

  “Don’t you two look cozy?”

  Gannon dragged his gaze away from Paige’s face to his sister who was tucking her phone away and standing in the aisle. “We get along better when one of us is asleep,” Gannon joked softly, careful not to jar Paige awake.

  Cat was looking at him expectantly.

  “What?” he grumbled.

  “I knew you had a thing for her,” Cat whispered, looking triumphant in her statement.

  “Keep your gibberish down, or you’ll wake her,” he threatened.

  “And then cuddle time would be over.” She gave him a playful pout. “Admit it. You’ve been into her forever.”

  He gave her his best “don’t fuck with me” look, but Catalina King was immune to his temper.

  “I’m just trying to get to know her a little better,” he told her. “Some new information came to light recently—”

  “That you want to take our little Paige here and make sweet, sweet love to her?” Cat interrupted.

  “Shut the fuck up, Cat,” he warned.

  She held up her palms, the King symbol
of surrender. “I’m just teasing. You know I love her. I’d do a Zumba routine right here and now if you told me you were throwing Meeghan over for Paige.”

  At the mention of Meeghan’s name, Gannon stiffened and Paige murmured against his chest.

  “I told you before. There is no me and Meeghan. Now, go back to your seat before I throw you in the overhead compartment.”

  “Whatever you say, big brother,” Cat said, reminding him that he was indeed two minutes older than she was. “But you could do a lot worse and, in my opinion, not much better than our Paige here.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Paige’s phone had been blowing up all morning with calls and texts, but she was knee-deep in prep with their on location general contractor and a denied permit that had to be unbotched before shooting could start the next day.

  Usually they managed a few days to a week between filming episodes, but with twelve episodes to produce this season, the Texas to Maine jump was the tightest they’d ever had.

  The field manager had warned her it would be a big job done on a tight lot, but it would be worth it. So Paige had worked an extra two days for filming into the schedule. And looking at the dingy two-story on a skinny swatch of lawn, they were going to need it. Carina Dufour had purchased the house with her then husband when they were pregnant. The location was ideal. It was a quiet, cozy neighborhood where backyards connected and neighbors called out greetings from front porches. The perfect place to start a family.

  Unfortunately, the marriage hadn’t lasted, and down to one income and facing an ongoing health crisis, the dreams of renovations and a comfortable family home were put on the back burner.

  Blah beige siding and mud brown shingles added no more curb appeal to the home than the chipped wrought-iron scroll work holding up the crooked porch roof. Inside, it was spotless but dated. There were too many too-small rooms chopping up the layout and rendering the house practically useless. And taking a second leave of absence from her job, Carina had no hopes of beginning renovations on her own. She never stopped dreaming, though. At least not according to the Pinterest board she’d been happy to share with Paige.

  Cat, of course, had been thrilled with Carina’s fearless design taste. The color and texture and creativity had sent Cat into her design software creating and re-creating each room until it was perfect.

  They were all in on this one, Paige thought. No one complained about the tight schedule or the optimistic construction plans. Her team was just as invested in the family as the locals were. There was no way any of them were leaving Carina and Malia with anything less than the beautiful home they deserved. So nothing, not even the torrential downpour that left crater-deep mud puddles everywhere overnight, would slow them down.

  Paige blew out a sigh of relief when Billie, office manager and wife of Brunelli Construction president, gave her the thumbs up.

  “Okay, great,” Billie said into her cell phone. “Thank you. We’ll send someone down to pick up the permit right away,” she said, disconnecting the call.

  “Fixed?” Paige asked hopefully.

  “All set,” Billie said, wiping the imaginary sweat from her brow. “Good to go for tomorrow.”

  “Thank God,” Paige said, pulling her phone out to send an update text to Eddie and Andy and wondering again why her phone had ten missed calls and twenty-two texts. She’d just hit send when she spotted Gannon dragging Cat her way.

  “Oh, wow,” Billie breathed, staring at Gannon. “He’s even hotter in person.”

  He sure is, Paige agreed silently.

  He was wearing gym shorts and a faded t-shirt that looked as though it had seen a hundred washings and still had every inch of his broad chest memorized. Those golden eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, and the scowl on his face gave her a giddy rush of adrenaline up her spine. She’d been avoiding him since the plane landed last night and she woke up with her face plastered to that spectacular chest.

  She wasn’t one to wake quickly in the first place, and waking up to that face? To all that masculine heat? She had stared up at Gannon dazed for longer than necessary until he reached over and gently nudged her gaping mouth closed.

  “Hey, guys. Have you met Billie? She’s Brunelli’s office manager and Mrs. Brunelli.”

  Gannon’s frown softened marginally. He offered Billie his hand and a “nice to meet you” before introducing his sister.

  Cat looked guilty, and Gannon looked furious. Paige hoped whatever it was wouldn’t derail shooting.

  Star-struck or, more accurately, Gannon-struck, Billie excused herself to go take care of some vague errands. Paige had a feeling the woman was going to go stick her head in a freezer to cool off from her first encounter with him.

  “So what has you dragging your sister to the set a full day early?” Paige asked, addressing her question to Gannon.

  “Cat has something she’d like to tell you.”

  Cat pouted. “I don’t see what the big deal is—” she began.

  But Gannon was pulling her phone out of her grasp and handing it over to Paige. “She’s sorry,” he said, his voice short.

  Paige raised an eyebrow and looked down at the screen.

  “Oh, shit.”

  Cat’s Instagram account was open to a picture of Gannon and Paige on the plane. Paige’s head nestled cozily on his chest. Beams of the setting sun from the window held them like in a kind of spotlight. He was looking down at her, his expression soft, almost tender. Paige’s gaze flew back to his face. He wasn’t soft or tender now.

  “I didn’t know she took it,” he said quietly.

  “I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Cat began again. “Everyone loves the picture.”

  Cat looked back at the phone. “Oh, my God, Cat.” There were sixty thousand likes and a few hundred comments.

  “I’d remortgage my house if I could have Gannon King look at me that way.”

  “Trouble in paradise for Meeghan and Gannon?”

  Paige silently handed the phone back to Cat, her heart thudding in her chest. This was bad, very bad. She was behind the scenes for a reason. Gannon had been spot on when he talked about what a boys’ club the industry was. If people thought in any way that she and Gannon were having some kind of an affair, she could kiss being taken seriously goodbye.

  “I posted pics of a bunch of us on the plane. But this is the one everyone got excited about.” Cat chewed on her lip, finally sensing that there really was a problem. “I thought you were being oversensitive,” she said to her brother.

  “Paige, would you like me to explain to my asshole sister why this picture shouldn’t have been shared?”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice yet. The panic was clawing its way up her throat.

  “This photo makes it look like there’s something going on between the two of us,” Gannon snapped. “If people start to believe that, Paige’s ability to do her job is compromised.”

  “I don’t see how—”

  “If they think she’s fucking her way to a job, no one’s going to take her seriously as a producer. She’s going to get passed over for good projects and forced into taking jobs for assholes who think they can score with her.” His voice had risen by the end of his explanation, and while Paige was impressed that he really got the ramifications, she was mortified that they were drawing more attention.

  “Oh, shit! Paige, I swear I didn’t think—”

  “Damn right you didn’t think,” Gannon cut her off. He was good and pissed, and now Cat’s lip was trembling.

  “Okay, let’s just take a breath,” Paige ordered, regaining her voice and forcing down the panic. Panic never helps, her mother’s cool voice reminded her.

  “Take it down, Cat,” Gannon snapped at his sister.

  “The thing is, I don’t think I should,” Cat said, her eyes beseeching Paige. “If I take it down, it’s going to look like we’re trying to hide something. Regardless of whether or not there’s anything there to hide.”

  Paige sighed
and shoved her hand through her hair. “Cat’s right. You guys don’t need to worry about this. I’ll deal with it.”

  Gannon’s phone let out a shrill noise. It sounded like a security alarm. He made a grab for it, and when he nearly fumbled it, Paige spotted “Meeghan” on the screen. He hit ignore and shoved his phone back in the pocket of his mesh shorts.

  “Same team, princess,” he reminded her.

  Her phone rang. Eddie. She swore under her breath before walking a few paces away and answering.

  “Hey, the permits are all in order,” she said by way of a greeting.

  “Yeah, I got your text. Good job…” He trailed off, and Paige knew, she just knew, that this wasn’t a checking in call.

  “So, I just got a phone call from the minion of a suit,” Eddie said.

  “Uh-huh.” Paige didn’t trust her voice to say more than that.

  “They saw the picture of you and Gannon on the plane.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “They loved it. And the footage of you reaming him out in South Carolina? It was a hit. So they want you mic-ed.”

  “What?” Paige found her voice.

  “They want to include you in the storyline. You butting heads with Gannon played really well. They want you to be kind of a behind-the-scenes, in-front-of-the-camera part of the show.”

  “What?” She was shouting now and didn’t give a flying fuck who heard her.

  “It comes with a bump in pay. A small one. But you’re part talent now.”

  “Eddie, there’s no way in hell—”

  “Oh, hey,” Eddie interrupted. “Heading into another meeting. I gotta go.” He disconnected, and Paige had to fight the urge to throw her phone into the mud puddle in front of her. She won. Barely. And shoved the phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She stared down at the muddy water and counted to five. When that didn’t work. She counted to twenty.

  They were essentially writing her into the story as a love interest for Gannon. Her career as she knew it was officially over.

  “Paige?” Cat’s voice was tentative behind her.

  Paige didn’t turn around. “Yeah, Cat?”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s fine. I’ve got to go take care of some things,” she told the Kings without looking at them and, much the same as Billie, wandered away claiming vague important tasks.