Chapter Three

Wilder pulled his black Ford F-150 into a spot in front of a diner about a mile away from the Round Rock house. It was barely six, and the streets were about as empty as one might expect given the early hour. There was one other vehicle, a truck like his. Felix must be there already. You could always count on Felix to be prompt. That was one of the reasons they’d had to hire him—even without an interview. There was no other person Wilder wanted to work with as their local contractor behind the scenes.

They’d been friends for longer than either of them could remember. It would have been insulting to make him go through the usual machinations. Not that he would have complained if it had been necessary. Felix would have shown up for his interview—a few minutes early, because on time is late—wowed Renee with his expertise and casual, good ole Texas boy charm. And she would’ve hired him. Wilder had saved everyone the time and effort by putting his foot down.

When Wilder stepped inside, Felix was already settled in a booth. He had the menu spread open, but left unread, while he scrolled through his phone.

“Isn’t it a little early to be answering work email?”

Felix glanced up, and an easy grin spread across his face. He rose and cuffed Wilder’s shoulder. “Is it ever too early to get some work done?”

“It is if you don’t want to give your clients the wrong impression.” Wilder gave him a quick pat on the back, then slid into the booth across from him. “If they think you’re up and willing to work before six, well, they’ll want you up and at work before six.”

“Don’t worry.” Felix flipped his phone around to show Facebook on the screen. “My customers are still blissfully unaware of my early morning habit. My freedom is safe for another day.”

“I should’ve expected no less from you. How’s business?”

“Steady. About to get busier.”

Wilder glanced up to meet his gaze. “We’re not putting you in a bad place, are we?” That’s something he hadn’t considered when he’d insisted they hire Felix and his crew as their lead crew for the season. “Because—”

“Are you kidding? The guys are excited about becoming celebrities. Well, at least famous in Texas.” Felix shook his head. “They’ll be there morning, noon, and night to get the work done for you. And for a chance to be on your show. Some of the guys are already anticipating how many girls they’re going to get with their new celebrity.”

“They realize the camera crews aren’t always around when work is being done, right? That the bulk of everything happens behind the scenes.”

“I’m not going to tell them if you don’t.”

The waitress arrived at the table to take their orders. Knowing this could be his only real meal of the day, depending on how the crew tour of the house went, Wilder ordered a full breakfast. Steel-cut oats with a banana and almonds, scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, a side of fresh fruit, and a coffee. Felix said nothing but lifted his eyebrows in silent judgment while he ordered pancakes, bacon, eggs, and hash browns. It was the same breakfast Wilder would’ve ordered a few years ago.

“So,” Felix said, once the waitress left. “How’s Virginia?”

“She’s great. Perfect.” Wilder pulled up photos on his phone and flipped through them. “She’s excited that she gets to spend some time with her Uncle Felix for the next few months.”

“She looks a lot like Waverly. That’s a good thing, by the way. Life’s hard enough without the poor girl having to look like your sorry ass.” He swiped to a photo of Virginia wearing more ice cream on her face than she’d managed to eat and he chuckled. “But there’s enough of you in there to keep it interesting.”

“There’s never a dull moment where she’s concerned.”

“Do you think your parents will be up to visit often?”

“My dad has a couple of projects in the works, so he’ll be up on weekends.” Felix handed the phone back, and Wilder slipped it into his jeans. “But from the sounds of it, my mama won’t be a stranger. They’re taking Virginia for a couple of weeks.”

“Is your mama going to put that nanny of yours out of work?”

“I hope not. We’ll need her when we head back to Toronto.”

“And good help is hard to find these days?”

“Something like that.” Wilder leaned back against the torn orange pleather covering the booth, enjoying his last moments of calm before the filming storm began. “We’re bringing in our new assistant designer today.”

“Oh yeah? Anyone I know?”

“Doubtful. She hasn’t worked on any big projects since her internships—and you were still in New York back then.”

“No recent big work? And she’s who you hired?”

Wilder nodded slowly. Now that they were inching closer and closer to the start of everything, he was beginning to have some concerns. He’d gone with his gut before with iffy results. He hoped hiring Bailey Meredith wouldn’t be another one of them. “We never want to hire someone too established.”

“Because it creates conflict with Waverly?”

“Something like that.” Wilder sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “Anyway, she’s coming to look at the house. Waverly’s just back in town herself.” Which was part of his reason for being nervous, he supposed. “It’ll give them a chance to get to know the project. We’ll ask her to brainstorm concepts on the fly. See how she does.” Wilder hesitated a second before adding. “If there’s anything about her that strikes you as off . . .”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you keep a lemon around while I’m on the clock.”

The waitress returned with their meals, effectively ending the conversation. And that was just fine, because Felix had Wilder’s back. And unlike Waverly, he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the show’s future.

***

Quitting her job had been easier than anticipated. She’d drafted her letter of resignation from her sister’s couch in Austin, then turned it in first thing Monday morning. It took her supervisor until just before lunch to respond via email.

“Congratulations on the new job. While we appreciate your giving us two weeks, the higher-ups and I agree that there’s no need. We’ll pay you through the end of the month, but you can leave at the end of the day.”

They hadn’t actually fired her—she’d already quit. Still, it felt like they were sending her a big “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out” farewell.

And so her last day at DLS came and went with as little fanfare as the rest of her time there. A couple of the junior designers took her out to lunch. They begged her for details on the new gig—particularly if her new employer was hiring anyone else—but dropped it by the time the server delivered their lunches. After, they said their good-byes and promised to keep in touch. They made the promises because that was what people did in those situations. Even when they knew they’d probably never speak again. At least, not outside of the occasional Facebook comment or message.

At the end of the day, she packed up the few personal items she’d stashed in her cubicle and left the building. She hadn’t looked back.

Renee had been all too happy to have her start a week earlier than planned. Apparently, there were all kinds of pre-filming details to figure out, and they needed every bit of help they could get.

The extra time between jobs also gave her a chance to pack up, move out, and clean her apartment in Dallas. As planned, she’d listed most of her furniture and unsentimental belongings on Craigslist and made a decent return to pad her savings account. She carefully packed the essentials—her clothes, toiletries, laptop, and a small pile of books—to take with her. The rest went into boxes for storage in her mama’s garage.

She’d officially moved to Austin over the weekend. Paige had offered her the couch for the duration of the filming. While Bailey had appreciated the offer, it hadn’t made sense to accept. It wouldn’t take long for the two of them to want to tear each other’s hair out if they were crammed into the one-bedroom condo. One week, tops. In the end, it hadn’t been necessary. As part of her contract, the production company would put her up in one of the motel rooms reserved for the shoot.

It would be good to have her own space. After living alone for most of a decade, she valued her privacy.

She particularly appreciated her privacy right now. She pulled her compact SUV in front of a sprawling, Victorian house. A crew—she assumed they were a mix of production and construction based on the equipment they were unloading—scurried in and out of the house. It was at that moment she realized uprooting what little life she had in Dallas had been the easy part of this whole thing. Showing up at the job site had been a little harder. But getting out of the car . . . that was going to be a task of monumental proportions.

If there was ever a time to give herself a pep talk, this was it. I can do this. I can prove I’m worthy of this job. I can prove I wasn’t crazy by moving here. I—

A knock on the SUV window interrupted the flow of her pep talk—and gave her heart a start. She swiveled to find Waverly’s face filling the window. She offered a friendly wave and gestured for Bailey to join her outside.

It wasn’t too late. She could flip her ignition back on and hightail it to the highway. After a quick pit stop at the motel to pick up her meager belongings, she’d hit the road and go . . . somewhere. What she’d do for money or lodging, she didn’t know, but she’d figure it out. Or she could suck it up and do this job.

Her hand gripped the keys, but instead of turning, she glanced back at the house. It really was quite pretty. Granted, the intricate woodwork had seen better days. And if she had to, she’d bet the foundation needed reinforcement. She doubted anyone had lived there in years. Neglect usually meant you could count on all kinds of pests and rodents—not to mention rotted wood and mold. All of that could be fixed, though.

She wanted to see what was waiting inside.

Her curiosity was the push she needed to overcome her stage fright. Taking a deep breath to ease her racing heart, Bailey grabbed her bomber-style jacket and oversized hobo bag, and slid out. The unusually cold wind almost knocked the wind out of her. Waverly, she noticed, didn’t seem fazed. She wore a light jacket, which she left hung open.

“Morning,” she called out over the wind. “Did you get settled in?”

“Yes, thank you.”

With her elbow, she gestured at Bailey’s purse. “That’s a great bag.”

“Thanks.” The bag had been her biggest financial splurge after getting her first grown-up job. She’d almost had to breathe in a bag after she’d handed the cashier her credit card, but it had been worth it. “I like having a purse big enough to carry a notepad, my tablet, and a hammer if need be.”

“A girl after my own heart.”

Bailey wondered what more she was supposed to do or say next. Renee asked her to show up at this spot at eight—but nothing else. Out of habit, she’d brought two coffees—one for Waverly and one for herself. She’d checked with Renee to find out how her new boss took her coffee. She wasn’t sure if being a design assistant meant being a life assistant, too, but she figured she’d err on the side of caution on her first day.

“I heard you take yours with two Splendas and a splash of soy.”

Waverly’s eyebrows shot up. “I do—thank you.” She caught Bailey’s shiver and grinned. “Let’s take these inside.”

Bailey nodded, grateful to get out of the cold, but still said nothing. Again, she didn’t understand the kind of dynamic Waverly wanted from an assistant. She wasn’t sure what was an invitation for a question or when she should be quiet.

While they moved forward, Waverly chatted over her shoulder. “Usually Wilder likes me to wait for him to set up first, but screw that. Who’s really in charge here?”

That, Bailey knew, did not require an answer.

Keeping a close distance, she followed Waverly up the cracked path to the house. Bailey took quick mental notes of her surroundings. The exterior needed a lot of work. The sagging roof and missing gutters made her think they’d find the inside in similar disarray. They stepped through the front door, nearly tripping over Wilder Aldrich, who was measuring the entryway.

“Hey!” He sprang to his feet and out of their way. “What did I tell you about waiting until I gave you the all clear?”

“You were taking for-frickin’-ever, and some of us were freezing our tits off.” She pursed her lips and took on a warrior stance, seemingly daring him to say something else.

Conceding victory to her, Wilder turned and flashed an apologetic grin at Bailey. “Hey.” He offered a hand. Warmth permeated through the thin material of her glove. “Welcome to Casa de Waverly.”

Giving him a smug grin, Waverly sipped her coffee and faced Bailey. “Do you have a smart phone?”

Bailey stared blankly for a second, still dazzled by seeing Wilder up close. But she quickly snapped to attention and dug her phone out of her coat pocket.

“Good,” Waverly said after inspecting it. “While you’re on the job, I’d like you to snap some photos for our social media accounts. I’ll want to vet everything before we post it, but we need to start building the buzz for the next season while we’re filming. In exchange, we’ll cover your phone payments to take care of your data usage. Understood?”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Now . . .” She pulled out her own phone. It was the latest model that had come out on the market a month ago. With all of its reported bells and whistles, it put Bailey’s poor phone to shame. “I’m going to make a quick call. I’ll be back in a few minutes, and we can get started on,” she gestured around her, “this mess.”

She spun on her heel and waltzed out of the room, cooing into the phone.

Wilder cleared his throat, and Bailey turned to give him her full attention. She estimated he was only a couple of years older than herself—maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. He looked younger in real life than he did on TV. He was leaner and a little shorter—though she still had to crane her neck a little to meet his gaze.

He was also more handsome. Not the GQ model, your tongue-sticks-to-the-top-of-your-mouth kind of sexy. But he was hot in the same way the guy you sat next to in Chemistry was. It was enough to distract you from formulas and Bunsen burners every so often, but not enough that you’d ever set the lab on fire or forget to finish your final exam.

So far, he seemed much more serious. Where was the guy who scared Waverly with a stuffed dummy in a closet in the last episode she’d watched before calling an end to the marathon?

He was, she realized, studying her every bit as closely, with those hazel eyes speckled with green. Noting that, she didn’t feel quite as rude taking mental notes on the man in front of her.

At least she looked good. She’d laid out three outfits that morning in the hotel room. The first was a long, silky turquoise tunic that she’d paired with a pair of black leggings and knee-high boots. It was similar to the clothes Waverly favored on-screen—only hers weren’t name-brand knock-offs. Then she had the casual jeans and a gray T-shirt she could dress up with a navy blue blazer. And there was option three: dark wash, fit jeans, a chambray shirt, and a scarf. It was an ensemble that fell somewhere in the middle. It was the one that looked the most like her when she inspected herself in the mirror.

It was the one that felt most like her now in the middle of the foyer.

She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he see a confident young woman ready to tackle major projects adeptly? Or did he see someone who was desperate to create, no matter what happened? Both were correct, but which one shone through right now?

Like a light switch, that triggered something in her. She offered her hand again. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Bailey Meredith.”

“Wilder Aldrich.” He gripped her hand firmly in his, sending another jolt of electricity through her. She nearly jumped back—like she’d been shocked by some old, faulty wiring. But for his part, Wilder seems nonplussed.

“They don’t make ‘em like this anymore, do they?” A slow grin spread across his face. “Renee thinks we’re crazy. But with a little love—okay, a lot of love—this house could be something. What do you think?”

She scanned the foyer, noting the torn wallpaper and holes. More projects to add to their list. But she looked past it, up the three-story staircase that led to the attic. “It’s enchanting. It has more than potential. It has a wow factor.”

Slipping his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, Wilder nodded. “There’s definitely some magic left in this house.”

Her lips quirked, but she kept the humor out of her voice. “Is this the project house?”

His eyebrows flew up. “In your interview, you said you don’t watch any of the shows on DN.”

“I don’t. Not normally. But I figured it wouldn’t hurt to see what exactly I was getting myself into.”

“That’s smart.” His eyes lingered a moment longer before turning back to study the house. “But you’re right. This is the project house. We made an offer last week, and they handed over the keys this weekend.”

She couldn’t control her surprise this time. “You found it last week and you already have the keys?”

“We paid cash and it was empty.” He lifted a shoulder. “That tends to move the process forward a little faster.”

“I suppose it pays to have the cash to buy something straight up.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“So . . .” She glanced around the entryway, noting the staircase leading to the upstairs. “Y’all plan to take out the walls around the staircase to install a wrought iron banister, right?”

With a quizzical look, Wilder slipped the tape measure back into his tool belt and crossed his arms. “We hadn’t talked about that yet, but . . . it’s a good idea. It would really open up the entrance.”

“And it would make a statement.”

“What else would you do?”

She nervously eyed the kitchen Waverly escaped to a few moments earlier. “Shouldn’t we wait for her to get back?”

“She’s on the phone with New York. It could take a while.” He uncrossed his arms and stepped toward what appeared to have once been the formal living room. “Come on. Show me what you’ve got.”

She hesitated a moment, casting one more look over her shoulder before following him. Truthfully, she’d rather check out what they were working with than sit around making small talk. She snapped a quick photo of the claustrophobic entryway and staircase, then headed into the living room to wow her new boss. And she would try—no matter what—to ignore the fact that he might be changing from Chemistry partner cute to GQ cover model hot in her mind.

***

Bailey could hardly talk fast enough for Paige when she called her sister at the end of the first day.

“Tell me everything. Don’t leave out any details.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible. I’m contractually obligated to be quiet about most things until the episodes air. And even then, the nondisclosure agreement I signed says I can’t go blabbing about everything.”

“Come on. We’re related—by blood.”

“I’m sorry . . . I have the contract right here, and there isn’t a sister freebie clause. I should have negotiated that into it. My bad.”

Paige gave a disgruntled grunt. “Well, can you at least tell me what Waverly and Wilder are like to work with in real life?”

“They’re both focused and driven.” And unlike on-screen, there was a lot less playful bickering behind the scenes. Most of their interactions that day were task-oriented. Aside from a couple of teasing remarks—which were borderline hostile—they kept it professional, almost cool. “Waverly was a little terse, but—I think that was more from her wanting to be productive than because she isn’t nice.”

“So, she was nice?”

“Sure. She has a great eye for design.”

There, that was a tidbit. Not necessarily an original one, considering the headline on her latest magazine cover had “An Eye for Design” as its headline.

“What about Wilder?”

“He’s . . .” Well, he was different than she’d expected. “He’s friendly—what you’d expect from a good old boy born and raised in Texas.”

“Perfect. What else?”

“He’s not as silly as he seems on camera. And I think he’s actually smart.”

“Did you think he’d be stupid just because he wears a tool belt?”

“Of course not. I just mean that his intelligence doesn’t always come through on camera. You have to admit, on the show he seems like more of a goofball who takes orders from Waverly.”

“But he doesn’t in real life?”

“No. He’s an equal parts decision-maker.”

That seemed to mollify Paige. “You’re the luckiest person I know, you realize that, don’t you?”

That was a pretty loaded question given how little her sister actually understood about these shows. Bailey had been on lots of renovation sites, and even she’d been surprised with how much went into the projects featured on these shows. Thinking back on her day—including her aching feet and the fatigue that was making it difficult to keep her eyes open—it’d be easy to worry she’d made the wrong choice taking this job.

But she didn’t. Because while she was more tired than she’d been since college, it was also the most fun she’d had in a long time.

“You’re right. I’m pretty damn lucky.”

***

He would’ve rather gone back to his motel room. Flip on the game. Crack open a beer. Zone out until it was time for bed. After a twelve-hour day on the job site, that pretty picture in Wilder’s head sounded like heaven. Instead, Renee had insisted on calling a final pre-filming meeting with him and Waverly. At least she was feeling generous enough to let them do it over dinner.

His stomach rumbled. He hadn’t had much since breakfast. Just a sandwich and some veggies around noon. He could eat. His beer and basketball could wait another hour.

He longingly skimmed over the descriptions of at least a dozen variations on a hamburger and fries and ordered a Cobb salad without the bacon—though it hurt him to do so. It was too late in the day for that much grease. Especially when they were starting filming again. Apparently thinking along the same lines, Waverly ordered a green salad with grilled salmon and no dressing. Shaking her head at their vanity, Renee unapologetically ordered fish and chips with an extra side of tartar sauce. His stomach grumbled in envy, but he fought the urge to call the waitress back to the table so he could get the black and blue burger instead.

Sliding the menu back behind the metal napkin holder, Renee folded her hands on top of the table. “I think we made the right call hiring Bailey.”

“I agree.” Waverly wiped down her part of the table and silverware with a moist towelette. “She has great ideas and a fresh perspective. She didn’t take much prodding to give her opinion, which is good. We don’t have time to waste on indecision and delicacy.”

“Not if we’re going to stay on schedule,” Renee agreed, sending them each a warning look. “The execs won’t be too happy if we go over again like we did in Nashville.”

“That was a fluke.” Waverly waved her hand dismissively. “Our clients were too indecisive, and the local designer wasn’t much help.”

“That’s why we need someone like Bailey. No,” Renee interrupted her own train of thought. “It’s why we need her.”

It had been a smart decision to hire her. They had a full episode order for this season, which meant a lot of work during the next six months. They needed the best on their team, and Wilder’s gut had been right this time. He’d known the moment she opened her sketchpad.

Now that he’d actually met her in the flesh and worked alongside her, it was even more obvious. She was the best person for the job. And there was something about her. Something he couldn’t quite explain. But it told him she—like their project house—had a lot of potential to be great. Bailey was different. He’d felt it standing next to her. Despite her initial quietness, which had flown out the house’s ramshackle door the second she went into designer mode, she exuded energy.

She was an intriguing and unexpected puzzle. He liked puzzles. “I agree.”

“Do you?” Renee asked. “You’re not concerned you might butt heads with someone who also has big ideas?”

“When has my coming to blows with the designer ever been a problem?”

Waverly snorted. “Never. Once you get over your little pouts about time and money, you rally and do what you’re supposed to like a good boy.”

“I don’t mind a little argument now and then with the designer if she—or he—has the skills to back it up.” He lifted a shoulder. “Bailey has those skills. And the guys on Felix’s crew liked her.”

His buddy had made sure Wilder knew before they’d called it a night. Half the crew was ready to get down on one knee and propose to the woman after she’d passed around candy bars while she brainstormed ideas with them. Her pretty face hadn’t hurt either.

“Good.” Renee flipped open her laptop as Waverly’s cell phone chirped its shrill ring. She checked the display and her face lit up.

“Sorry.” She held up the phone. “I have to take this.” Without waiting, she grabbed her jacket and stepped outside, cooing, “Devon, hello. What a nice surprise. I can’t wait to tell you about . . .”

Once they were alone, Renee lifted an eyebrow. “Did she say Devon?”

“Yep.”

“Devon. As in—”

“You’ve got it.” Wilder toyed with a straw wrapper on the chipped table top. “She was lying about being surprised. He calls every day around this time. I figure he’s making the commute home and looking to kill some time in traffic.”

“But I thought he’s . . .”

“He and his wife have been separated for about a year. They’re talking to lawyers. One of them will be filing for divorce any day now.” Or at least that’s what Waverly said when she’d told him about her new boyfriend.

“How long has that,” Renee gestured outside, “been going on?”

“I guess they hit it off when we were doing our press push a few months back. They’ve kept in touch. One thing led to another and . . . there you go. She’s been spending more time in New York with him. And he’s flown up to Toronto a couple of times.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

If he was being completely honest, no. It meant more daddy-and-daughter time for him and Virginia. Rather than say that out loud, he gave another halfhearted shrug. “It’s not really my business.”

“Waverly is sleeping with the network’s East Coast programming director, the man who is all of our boss’s boss’s boss, and it’s not really your business? What if they break up? What will happen to the show?”

“You’re right. It’s not ideal.” He ran a hand over his tightly cropped light brown hair. “But Waverly doesn’t butt her head into my romantic interests, and I try not to pay much attention to the guys she dates. We broke up years ago. Our relationship is purely professional. Well, and we have Virginia. But otherwise—”

Renee folded her arms across her chest. Her face pinched together like she’d swallowed a sour grape. “I knew it was a mistake to bill you guys as a married couple.”

“It wasn’t your idea. It’s what the network wanted.” Devon himself had suggested it when they had their first meeting. They’d tried to explain that, while they had a child and business together, they were no longer a couple. “And technically, neither of us has actually ever said we’re married.”

“Yeah, but it’s implied constantly.” Renee sighed. “They figured you’d appeal to middle America better that way. And we all know that’s our demographic. I get the reasoning. But I wasn’t in those talks. If I had been . . . Why? Why did you agree to go along with the plan?”

It was the first time she’d asked him straight out why he was willing to lie—even if through implication—about their relationship. They’d worked together on three seasons of Playing House. She was a colleague and a friend, but they’d never had this conversation.

“We needed to expand our business. The construction market wasn’t great after the recession. We had a baby to support. It seemed like a good idea. And . . .”

“And?”

“And it’s what Waverly wanted. I wanted to keep her happy.”

Renee’s face softened. She nodded because she understood why he’d move heaven and earth to keep Waverly happy. More, she knew who it was really all about. Virginia.

“I hope you two know what you’re doing.”

“We usually do.”