CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Paige?” Mel’s voice carried through the door.
“I’m going to murder her,” Gannon muttered. “She’s a dead woman.”
Paige slapped a hand over his mouth. “What’s going on, Mel?” she called. She shot Gannon a warning look and jumped out of bed.
“Billie just called from the site,” Mel yelled through the door. “Said she couldn’t get through to you. The furniture truck just showed up and is blocking the street. It’s gotta be unloaded ASAP, or we’ll get cited for obstructing traffic.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” Paige muttered yanking on a pair of shorts and a tank top. “I’ll be out in a minute,” she called through the door.
“Meet you in the parking lot,” Mel said.
“Goddamn it.” Paige pulled a tank top over her head. “I hate this job.”
“For the love of God, woman, please put on a bra,” Gannon begged. “If I know you’re braless under there all day, they’re going to have to pixelate my crotch in post-production.”
Paige paused, glancing down his body and raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know if they have enough pixels.”
He grabbed her by the waistband of her gym shorts and kissed her hard. “This isn’t over,” he promised.
“It better not be.”
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It was chaos, but they managed to get the damn truck unloaded and moved before traffic control came in with their stupid pink ticket and fat fines. Of course, they had to drive the truck around the block, reload some of the furniture, and then unload it again for the stupid cameras, but Gannon was in a good enough mood that he didn’t bitch about it… much.
Four hours of sleep and one hell of an orgasm left him feeling pretty much on top of the world. And getting to spend his day staring at Paige in those little blue gym shorts and her #BeastMode tank top while she managed eight thousand details? That wasn’t so bad either.
There were a lot of things that surprised him about Paige, none of which disappointed him. She was tough as nails, gimping around the set without letting her injuries slow her down. She was a goddess in bed. Independent and smart-mouthed, she could handle him no matter what his mood. She never made any demands of him, at least not beyond work. And there? Paige challenged him to be better.
His only regret was waiting an entire year before really getting to know her.
When Kings of Construction started, he’d deliberately kept himself out of the production side of things, preferring to focus on his sister and his guys instead. They’d been through it all with him, had stood by him, and had earned his loyalty. He needed to make sure they came first.
But trying to ignore Paige, and any other network or production company drones, for the entire first season had been a mistake. He’d missed out on too much time with her, and he could have nipped the whole Meeghan Traxx debacle in the bud long ago. That grated him. He’d been lazy there, avoiding and ignoring the situation, and now it was a volcano ready to blow.
He’d fix it. But first, he had plans for Paige.
They had a few days off coming up, and he was planning on spending them in bed with her. That thought kept him obnoxiously amiable on set.
He didn’t even put up a fuss when Paige made him reassemble the canopy of Malia’s bed after she found out cameras hadn’t caught him putting it together. He was in too good of a mood to bother. It appeared the mood was contagious.
Mother Nature showed her sense of humor by replacing yesterday’s rainstorms with brilliant sunshine and drenching humidity. His crew busted their asses through the final hours before the reveal, whistling off-key pop songs and ribbing each other.
The air was filled with the scents of fresh paint and carpet, of newness.
The production crew, for the most part, let his guys do their thing and recorded load-in. By this point in filming, the focus was on Cat and her design crap. Cat could swing a hammer as well as he could, but because she had “lady parts,” she’d been labeled the show’s designer.
There was very little to do in the house. Brunelli’s crew had done such a good job, Andy had them undo a few of the things they’d done to get shots of Gannon and Cat furiously working up to the deadline to finish the house. Another little lie that added to the story. Hurry up and finish Cancer Kid’s house, he imagined the show’s teaser would hint.
Paige’s mantra ran through his mind. One more season.
Unlike his sister, who was mugging for the camera while she frantically reattached vanity drawer pulls in the master bath, he was not cut out for TV. With one more season’s paycheck, he could keep his grandfather’s company out of the red and finally get back to his own life, his own dreams.
His gaze traveled to Paige, hovering in the doorway just behind Louis as he filmed. She was beautiful. Not punch-in-the-gut fashion model beautiful. She was no Meeghan Traxx, thank God. That was a mistake he’d never make again. That kind of beautiful came at a very steep price with very little return.
Paige, on the other hand, was the kind of girl you wanted to take home to bed and would have no qualms inviting her to Sunday dinner at the parents’. She was real. Irony of ironies, he’d gotten into reality TV—the fakest thing in existence—and met someone he had real feelings for.
He scrubbed his hand over his head and looked away. One night with the woman, and she apparently called a monopoly on his every waking thought. Would she try to bail on him after shooting wrapped for the season? Would he let her?
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Reveal day was a different kind of chaos than all the construction shooting. They weren’t rushing to complete. They were frantic to capture every tear, every shocked expression, every delighted “thank you.” And when things weren’t accomplished in the first take, it was Paige’s job to keep the energy and excitement up so that subsequent takes rang true to viewers.
Carina and Malia were en route according to Mel’s text. So they had twenty minutes of nail-biting tension on set, keeping the volunteer army cordoned off across the street with their handmade signs and exuberant enthusiasm. Paige had learned in the past that it was best to keep Gannon and Cat in the production truck or craft services tent until right before the family rolled up. Otherwise the crowd sometimes got a little too enthusiastic. Last season, two middle-aged women had jumped the barrier and tried to take Gannon’s t-shirt... while he was wearing it.
Security on reveal day had beefed up since then, and Paige did her best to keep the energy high and the talent safe.
She was checking her watch for the eighth time when her phone rang. It was the third call from her sister. She’d avoided the first two, sure that Lisa was just reaching out to give her a follow-up grilling on how her injuries were healing.
She debated briefly and answered. “Hey, Lisa, now’s not a great time.” She said over the sound of an anxious crowd.
“Do not hang up on me,” Lisa snapped. Her sister didn’t sound like her usual dispassionate self. She sounded… human. And excited.
“What’s going on?” Paige asked, pressing the phone tighter to her ear to hear over the noise of the crowd.
“Listen, you know how mother and I feel about your career choices,” her sister sighed as if she carried the weight of her sister’s disappointment every day. “But maybe there is something to it.”
“Your approval means so much,” Paige said dryly.
“Don’t be a brat. I’m trying to tell you something important.”
“Then stop putting it in a thesis and cut to the chase. I swear medical school has ruined your ability to communicate.”
“Sloane Kettering is starting a pediatric cancer trial, and I think Malia could be an ideal candidate.”
“What?” Paige hadn’t meant to yell the word, but she wasn’t sure she’d heard her sister right.
“Look, I follow Cat King’s blog—”
“Why?” Paige interrupted.
“Because you’re my sister, and I like knowing what you’re up to,” Lisa huffed. “Anyway, I saw the outtakes of Malia talking about her cancer. I passed it on to a colleague, Dr. Singh. He’s young but brilliant, and he’s got this trial that’s getting started here in New York. Anyway, long story short, the trial starts in three weeks, and we need to talk to Malia’s mother and doctors like five minutes ago.”
Paige’s world blurred into a whirl of paint fumes and power tools. Words like stem cells and remission floated to her from far away.
“Lis, this would be… incredible.”
“Yeah. No kidding. Now give me the mother’s number.”
“Geez, okay. Look, we’re getting ready to shoot right now, so Carina’s going to be pretty busy.”
“Just get me ten minutes with her. Today, okay?”
“Today. Yeah. Keep your phone on you.”
“So are you sleeping with him?” Lisa asked, changing subjects as abruptly as a senior citizen changed lanes in Miami.
“What? Who?”
“Gannon King.”
“I didn’t think TV gossip reached your bubble,” Paige muttered.
“That’s definitely not a no.”
“I’m kinda busy here.”
“Mom’s certainly not thrilled with the idea, but if you’re going to date in that world, you could do worse,” Lisa said drolly.
“I’ve gotta go, Lisa. I’ll call you later with Carina.”
“Talk soon,” her sister signed off.
Paige disconnected and hugged the phone to her chest. She deliberately ignored her sister’s interest in her sex life and chose to focus on the good news. If anyone deserved a miracle, it was the Dufours. This could be so much bigger than a nice place to call home. She felt like she was going to explode with excitement.
A tug on the hem of her tank top had her jumping out of her skin.
“Ashton!” Paige was delighted to see the little boy grinning up at her. Flanked by his parents, he was dwarfed by the huge bouquet of flowers he held.
“Miss Paige, we brought you these,” he said, holding the bouquet up to her.
“For me?” Paige buried her face in the lovely blooms.
“We can never thank you enough for keeping Ashton safe,” his mother, a lovely brunette with a shy smile, told her. “If it weren’t for you…” she trailed off, and her husband slid an arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently.
Ashton’s father, tall and lanky with his son’s blue eyes, smiled. “We’re indebted to you. If there’s anything you ever need in Portland, all you have to do is ask.”
“Thank you. I’m… speechless,” Paige admitted.
“You got a lot of boo-boos,” Ashton announced studying the visible bandages on her arms and legs. Paige wished she’d worn jeans.
“Just some bumps and bruises,” she assured him.
“Was I brave, Miss Paige? Mama says I was.” Ashton danced from foot to foot in new dinosaur sneakers.
She crouched down in front of him. “You were very brave,” Paige agreed. “You stayed calm, and that made me feel calm, too.”
He grinned and threw his arms around her neck, squishing the flowers between them. Paige laughed and returned the tight squeeze.
“Five minutes out,” Andy announced over the headset. Paige released Ashton and stood up.
“The Dufours are on their way. Are you staying for the reveal?”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Ashton’s dad promised. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get the signs for Malia ready.”
They hustled off, leaving Paige with an armful of flowers and damp eyes.
“If you go get the Kings, I’ll find some water for these,” Sam volunteered, appearing at her side.
“You’re the best, Sam. You can never leave this show.” It was a threat she made weekly and interchangeably.
He grinned, his Colgate smile blinding. “You say that to all the PAs.”
She headed off to the craft service tent and found Gannon and Cat tossing popcorn into each other’s mouths across a table.
“We’re ready for you guys,” Paige called.
Cat caught a kernel with her mouth and shot her fists in the air. “Popcorn Mouth Catcher Champion!”
Gannon tossed a handful at his sister. “I demand a rematch.”
“The rematch can wait for a few hours,” Paige said with mock sternness, picking kernels out of Cat’s hair. “Meanwhile there’s a crowd of two hundred waiting to be dazzled by you two.”
“Tough job,” Cat said, applying a shiny pink layer of lip gloss with a handheld mirror. “You ready, big brother?”
“Let’s get this over with,” Gannon sighed. It was his trademark reveal day rally cry, and Paige had often joked she was going to get t-shirts made with the saying on it.
He followed his sister out and gave Paige a smoldering look promising naked, sweaty things to come as he sauntered past.
It was going to be a really good day.