Mr. Fixer Upper

by Lucy Score

  But she had Gannon at her back, Cat at her side, and a fresh bourbon in her hand. She could get through anything.

  Watching episodes with the cast, crew, and post-production was more entertaining than alone at home. Jokes and ribbing flew fast and furious. Even seeing her on-camera interviews wasn’t too horrific. And when Meeghan Traxx slid out of her SUV, there were more than a few boos thrown out around the bar.

  It was a relief when it was over. Viewing it wasn’t quite as painful as living it, and Gannon’s firm grip on her hips kept her from running screaming.

  Cheers went up around the bar when the final credits rolled. One of the production company honchos got up and made a toast thanking them all for their commitment and how they were all part of the same team. No one was buying it, but it was par for the course.

  Gannon’s biggest fan Raymond caught up with her when she was putting her coat on.

  “A really stellar season, sweetie,” he said gripping one of her hands between his two bear claw palms.

  It was now or never. “I hear Andy is moving on to another show,” she said.

  Raymond dropped her hand. “We’re hoping you’ll play a valuable part in the hiring process,” he said, cheerfully spouting words that they both knew had no meaning here.

  “Let’s cut to the chase, Raymond. I’d like to be considered for director.” Trigger pulled.

  Raymond looked at her like she was a little kid who had just announced she wanted to be a hot dog when she grew up. He screwed up his lined face in a mask of sympathy. “Well, the thing is, we need someone we can count on as a director.”

  “What have I ever done that led you to believe I couldn’t be counted on? I was on set the day after the accident,” she reminded him.

  “Well, now. I don’t want to embarrass you, but a little birdy told me you had to leave the set because of Meeghan.”

  Paige took a cleansing breath in through her nose and out through her teeth gritted in a smile. “You did your best to humiliate me on camera all season long for ratings, and I stayed and did my job because I’m invested in the show, in the families we serve, and in the Kings.”

  “That’s another consideration. I understand that you and Gannon have a relationship. But that doesn’t entitle you to director.”

  “Just like it doesn’t entitle your college dropout nephew to a VP position in marketing?”

  Raymond sputtered and blustered, but Paige plowed on. “Listen, Ray. Me not having a penis doesn’t hinder me from doing that job. Though the fact that Summit-Wingenroth has never hired a female director for any of its regular shows does make me wonder if you believe that genitalia is a requirement. I love working on this show, and I’ll be the best damned director you’ve seen on it yet if you give me the chance.”

  “I really think we’d be more comfortable if you’d spend another year or two as field producer.”

  “I wouldn’t be. It’s taking a step backward from where I am now, and you’ve been pleased with my work on King’s Castle. So really what you have to decide is whether you want to look for a field producer and a director for next season or just a field producer.”

  Raymond harrumphed, his cheeks flushed.

  “Look, Raymond. I’m not trying to be a hard-ass here. I’m just telling you that I’m your best choice. You know it, I know it, and everyone in this room that I’ve worked with for two years knows it, too. Think about it.”

  She patted him on the arm and strutted away.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  The chilled bottle of champagne was a spontaneous purchase as were the mouthwatering brownies she’d found in the tiny scrap of bakery the market offered. After all, they were celebrating. Tomorrow was reveal day. Gannon would have his new home all to himself once the crews packed up and went their separate ways.

  Paige had volunteered to pick up dinner and enhanced her salad choices with a hearty beef stew and fresh rosemary rolls while trying not to think about the “separate ways” thing too much.

  Things were moving fast. Gannon’s publicist had dropped the bomb that Meeghan and he had “parted ways several months ago”—a move that the production company had insisted waited until after the season finale aired—and that he and Paige were happily dating. Once the triangle was down to just two people, interest had cooled considerably. It was just days later that Summit-Wingenroth offered Paige director for season three of Kings. That news was followed immediately by the Welcome Home’s Network that Meeghan Traxx’s show was not being renewed for another season.

  Paige tucked everything into her market bags and sent a wave to the clerk on her way out the door. It was a friendly shop in a cute neighborhood walking distance to Gannon’s apartment. The new house, too, she supposed. Just in the opposite direction.

  She started down the block deciding she could pack mule everything back to the apartment without calling for a Lyft. The night was cold. Autumn had slipped away when they weren’t looking and left the icy bloom of winter in its place. Christmas was in less than two weeks, and Paige had maintained her tradition of ordering all her shopping online and having gifts shipped directly to the recipients.

  Well, except for Gannon. She’d picked up a few items here and there for him. And then felt silly about it. They hadn’t even discussed Christmas. She didn’t even know if she’d see him on the day. They’d been so busy, so… committed. She’d spent more time with Gannon in the past weeks than she had any other person in her adult life. They worked side-by-side together all day into the night and then hurried back to his apartment for supper, showers, and sex.

  Shooting on King’s Castle wrapped tomorrow with the reveal. It would take most of the day to shoot, but it was all coming to an end. And Paige was going to miss it. The house, the crew, seeing Gannon every day. That was the part she was dreading the most.

  Sure, as director of the new season of Kings of Construction, she’d have the pleasure of working with him every day again, but that wouldn’t be until April. Late April. Between now and then, she and Becca would be crisscrossing the country and burying themselves in hundreds of hours of interview footage.

  Would he wait for her while she lived her dream?

  She was finally doing it. All those years paying her dues were going to pay off, and she would lead a project that she could be proud of regardless of how it was received. She was both excited and terrified.

  Her phone vibrated against her hip, and she shuffled bags to dig it out. It was a text from Gannon.

  Meet me at the house. Need to show you something.

  She frowned. That sounded like a problem to her. Were they missing furniture? Did something get damaged with the load in? Crap. She hoped it was something they could at least shoot around.

  I’m a couple blocks away. Be there in ten.

  She looked at the time. If there was some kind of cosmetic issue, hardware stores would only be open for another hour or so, she gauged. She hauled bags and ass around the corner and down the street.

  On the bright side, she wouldn’t have to wait until tomorrow to see the finished product. She’d missed the entire afternoon of load in today to shoot with Gannon on location at a thrift shop. They shot a cute bit with him shopping with Cat and Nonni for décor. The world didn’t know it yet, but it was going to fall in love with a seventy-two-year-old.

  Paige had been planning on sneaking out of Gannon’s bed and into the house obscenely early in the morning just to get her own personal tour of the space to make sure nothing essential was missing on the call sheet.

  But she could scratch the early call from her list now as the house loomed in front of her. On her approach, it looked as though every light in the house was on making the entire place seem warm, inviting. Gannon might regret that, she laughed to herself. After having so many people in and out of the house for the past four months, he would probably prefer to throw the deadbolts and enjoy the solitude for a few weeks.

  The lights they’d chosen in the courtyard, the ones that per
fectly complemented the black iron lanterns on either side of the front door, cast a gold glow over the brick and beckoned her inside. She trudged up the front steps under the weight of the bags and was thankful when the doorknob turned easily in her hand. She deposited the bags inside the door and sighed.

  It was perfection. The long, low leather couch faced the fireplace with its brick surround and rough-cut oak mantel. The cheery gas fire chased the chill from the room. The flat screen TV—not nearly as colossal as the one he’d chosen for the second floor sitting room—was on and showing the King’s Castle logo.

  The coffee table, which looked suspiciously like her own, stood between two overstuffed armchairs in a soft oatmeal fabric. The floors, oh the floors. The original hardwoods had been unsalvageable on this level and Gannon had gone with a nearly gray random width plank to lighten the space. It flowed from the front door all the way back into the kitchen.

  He’d added just a bit of drama by painting the walls on this floor a shade of sea blue. It played against the gray of the flooring just as she’d thought when he’d shown her the samples. Rich, masculine, and peaceful. Gannon could come home and breathe easy here, shutting out the rest of the world on the other side of the front door.

  She moved into the dining space, which was now open to the living room and kitchen. Between each room, he’d done casement openings with grand pieces of trim stained to match the original woodwork of the rest of the house.

  The dining table and benches he’d built were here as well as the buffet and finished shelves. He’d been right about the metal shelf supports. Again, masculine and contemporary, playing off the historical building. On the wall opposite the buffet was a gallery wall of family photos.

  Paige frowned, stepping closer. There was one of her here. The one he’d had in his apartment. And another. This one snapped from behind while she helped Francesca with the dishes after their pizza celebration. There were others—Cat and Gannon growing up, their parents mugging for the camera on the hood of a station wagon, and a large framed black and white photo of Francesca and her groom on their wedding day. Pop, she presumed. Paige pressed her fingertips to the frame. With Gannon, family would always be front and center where they deserved to be.

  In her mother’s dining room was a lovely Kara Walker original in black and white.

  The realization swift and hot caught Paige unaware.

  Her mother hadn’t let anything stand between her and success. Not her daughters and certainly not her relationship. She’d known what was important to her, what would get her there, and what would take her further away from it.

  But was Leslie St. James happy? A loud voice inside Paige asked the question. Was happiness the same as success?

  The answer inside her was a resounding “no.” Success wasn’t the same as happiness. Neither was satisfaction, and that’s where her mother had made her fatal mistake.

  Paige stared at Gannon’s wall and felt her heart turn over. There was a shot of the two of them standing on the front steps of this very house grinning at each other. The doors were open, and she could just make out the chaos of a filming day within. He’d put her on his wall, pulled her into his family, and made her fall in love with him.

  She’d had no intention of letting any of it happen, yet here she was with a full heart and a need to tell him, tell the world!

  Paige pressed a hand to her chest. Instead of an ache, there was a glow as warm and true as the rising sun. She loved him, and this is how it felt. Knees weak, she sank down on the bench at the dining table and tried to catch her breath.

  She could do this. She could love him and film her documentary and make a difference. She could do it all. Somehow. It didn’t have to be one or the other. She would find a way to make it work.

  There was so much they needed to talk about. Living arrangements, for instance. There was no way in hell she could go back to her teeny apartment knowing Gannon was rattling around here with four gorgeous floors all to himself.

  Gannon.

  He was here somewhere. She started for the stairs and called his name.

  But her phone dinged in her hand drawing her attention to the screen.

  TV in the living room. Push play.

  “Gannon, I need to talk to you!” she yelled up the stairs. His text reply was succinct.

  Just shut up and push play.

  “It’s not like me being in love with you is important or anything,” she muttered under her breath. Resigned to whatever game he was playing, Paige returned to the living room and snatched up the remote she found on the couch.

  She pushed play, and the King’s logo disappeared. In its place rolled raw footage from Kings of Construction season one, episode one. Gannon was standing under an oak tree, arms crossed, giving a one-on-one to the camera when he got distracted by something off screen and lost his train of thought.

  “I’ve loved you since this exact moment,” Gannon’s gravelly voice announced in a voiceover. “You were just off camera, and something Lou said made you laugh. The sunlight was hitting you like you were in a spotlight. You had this ratty hoodie on and gym shorts that showed off about a mile of those gorgeous legs, and then you turned around and yelled at me to hurry it up. I didn’t know at the time that it was love, but my feelings for you haven’t changed since that day.”

  For the second time that night, Paige went weak in the knees. She sank down onto the cool leather of the couch and tried to comprehend. The screen switched to Gannon sitting exactly where Paige was now.

  “So that’s how long I’ve loved you. Twenty-one months, twelve days, and,” he checked his watch. “Ten hours.”

  He gave her that arrogant grin from on screen. “I didn’t want to love you, so I did my best to get under your skin like you were under mine.”

  Clips began to roll of their arguments, including one of Gannon grinning as she stalked off camera away from him. The video continued with Gannon on set wearing a different tool belt than his usual one.

  “This was the day it was two hundred degrees in the shade, and you showed up on set in those short cutoffs and a tank. I had a hard-on all day and had to hide it. I don’t think I was fooling anyone. Not where you were concerned.”

  Paige pressed her fingers to her lips and watched as she came onscreen. It was her first one-on-one, and she was fussing with the body mic. “I don’t want to do this,” TV Paige muttered. Another few seconds of fidgeting, and then she gave an eye roll and a heavy sigh before slapping on her camera smile and delivering the necessary monologue.

  She could hear the smile in Gannon’s voice. “I love how you can be so pissed off and still function like an adult. I’ve learned a lot from you, and maybe I haven’t told you that enough. But I have, and I hope you know that.”

  Her smile was watery now, and she swiped at a tear with the back of her hand. The next scene faded in. It was Gannon on the screen in a large workshop somewhere talking to a welder behind a computer. The camera bobbled, and Mel, face pale and hands shaking, stepped on screen holding a cell phone.

  “What? What is it?”

  Mel took a shaky breath. “There was an accident on set. Paige—”

  He grabbed Mel by the shoulders, and Paige saw the panic in those hazel eyes. “Is she okay?”

  “I don’t know.” Mel shook her head. “Andy texted, and he’s not answering his phone. ‘It’s bad’ is all he said.”

  “Keys!” Gannon yelled.

  Lou panned to Gannon running out the door, and a moment later, tires squealed in the parking lot.

  “That was the night I told you I loved you for the first time. I’d finally figured it out by then. You were sound asleep, drooling on my chest. And I told you. I should have told you every day since then, and I’m sorry I didn’t, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to make up for it,” Gannon said from the screen.

  Paige’s tears were flowing freely now.

  The scene changed again. This time it was Gannon ordering an injured Paige into her chair
behind the camera. And then another of Gannon standing guard during Paige’s one-on-one talking to the camera about the accident. He stood like a bodyguard just off camera, arms crossed, chewing on his thumb nail until he’d decided Eddie was done.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” he interjected briskly. “Come on, Paige. I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

  She remembered it even as she watched it. She argued with him, but Gannon won. While Cat and Rico were packing her into the truck, Lou caught Gannon taking a phone call on camera.

  “No. I’m taking her back,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument for whoever was on the other end. “She needs her rest. You find me anyone on this show or on your damn network that works harder than her. She gave you face time. You got the gory details. Leave it alone, or I’ll make it an issue. You’re not going to exploit her pain for ratings.”

  He hung up, looking like he wanted to crush the phone with his bare hands. But Paige saw him catch a glimpse of her waving from the passenger seat, and his expression softens.

  “Let’s go, princess.” They’d fooled no one, Paige realized. Looking at the footage after the fact, they couldn’t have hidden their feelings from a blind man. There was too much there, and that was worth hanging on to.

  When the scene changed again, Paige flinched. She knew exactly what day it was when she saw herself watching the SUV roll up to the curb. The camera captured Paige’s ashen face when Meeghan strutted up to Gannon and laid one on him.

  “You might wonder why I’m showing you this when you already witnessed it firsthand. What I wanted you to see was this…”

  Meeghan had sauntered over to look at the footage, Paige had taken off, and Gannon had unfrozen. Swiping a hand over his mouth, he wiped the layers of gloss away and stormed over to her.