Chapter Seven

Wilder didn’t normally consider himself prone to violence, but today, he could kill Waverly. Well, no, he couldn’t. For one, it would devastate Virginia. He’d never do anything to intentionally hurt his daughter. For two . . . he didn’t have it in him. He squashed bugs and set mousetraps. That was about as brutal as he got.

So no, he wasn’t going to kill Waverly, but he was mad enough right now that he could give her a good, stern talking to.

“What do you mean she’s not going to be here?” he asked through gritted teeth.

Unfazed by his burst of anger, Renee repeated the message she’d received from Waverly earlier that day. “‘Sorry, guys. Held up in NYC for at least a few more days. Carry on without me. Sounds like the projects are moving forward as planned. Keep up the great work.’”

“‘Keep up the great work?’ ‘Moving forward as planned?’ She hasn’t been here since we did our last round of client walk-throughs. She hasn’t been around to answer any of our questions on the projects in progress, and I can’t remember the last time we compared notes. I wouldn’t say that’s going as planned.”

“I’m not going to lie and say this isn’t inconvenient or that it isn’t a total pain in the you-know-what.”

“Pain in the ass, Renee. You’re a grown woman. It’s okay to say ass. I promise not to tell your mama you swore.”

She giggled a little, but the strain showed in her eyes. He’d wondered if the stress of this whole situation would take its toll on her. Renee had always been easy to work with, but she’d never exactly been a giggler. She was the one who kept him and Waverly in check. The fact that she was starting to slip now—one week into Waverly’s unplanned absence—well, it wasn’t a good sign.

It was funny how even from more than a thousand miles away Waverly could still incite stress on set.

“Okay.” Renee wiped the tears at her eyes and took a breath. “Let’s figure what has to be done and rank it in order of priority.”

“You want me to create a production list and rank it in order of importance?”

“Yes.”

Yeah, that was not going to happen. Wilder hated to be the kind of person who said “that’s below me,” but they had assistants on the show for a reason. They were there so he could focus on what he did best—overseeing the big picture of the project. They could call for Felix, but he’d only be able to tell them what was on the punch list. Knowing all the final details they had to complete before they could contractually hand the home back over was way more information than Renee wanted.

As he contemplated making the list himself, Wilder watched Bailey pull up in front of the office building and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God. Someone who actually knew what was going on.

Balancing a bunch of tote bags and a pile of notebooks under one arm, and a pulp drink carrier of coffees under the other, she awkwardly maneuvered her way out of the SUV. Four cups of coffee. He shook his head. She was still bringing Waverly’s order to work every day on the off-chance she might be there. The woman didn’t leave anything to chance. She’d be perfect for this assignment.

Begging Renee’s pardon, he jogged across the lot to meet Bailey. “Here.” He reached out for the carrier and notebooks. “Let me help you with that.”

“Thank you.” She flashed a grin that was more reserved than the ones she’d given him only a week ago, when they were both dripping with rusty water. Glancing around him, her smile faltered. Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “Is Waverly here?”

“No.” For a second, she looked fit to kill, but she repressed the fury almost as quickly. “She messaged Renee and said she’ll be gone a few days.”

“That’s too late. We’re already behind schedule.”

“Do you by any chance know what our top priorities are?”

“Of course.” She adjusted the straps on one of her bags. “We have two clients who need to pick out their houses. Another two are waiting for our pre-demo design plan.”

“Were any of those things supposed to happen within the next seventy-two hours?”

“Yes.”

“Which ones?”

“All of them.”

He swore under his breath. That figured. Shouldn’t Renee have known both of those things? He glanced back across the lot, where Renee was leafing through pages and pages of materials. Probably, but Waverly had thrown her for a loop. She wasn’t exactly playing her A-game. In the meantime, they were going to have to help her out. He had no doubt she’d snap back to her usual organized self once they had a plan.

“Listen . . . Renee is a bit confused about where we can even begin with Waverly out for a few more days. I hate to ask, but can you help me?”

“Absolutely. Anything. That’s what I’m here for.”

And that’s what he was hoping she would say.

When they reached Renee, he wasted no time handing her a cup of coffee. He said nothing but waited while she took three swallows.

The jolt of caffeine was like a light switch. “We need to come up with a strategy for handling the filming today and tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Bailey nodded, like she was trying to jolt her own brain into thinking faster. “This might seem like a dumb question—”

“I’ll take dumb over nothing,” Renee muttered.

“But does Waverly absolutely have to be in the clips with the customers?” Bailey winced when Renee and Wilder stared at her blankly. “I knew it was stupid, I just—”

“We need a designer for these meetings,” he explained gently, so she wouldn’t take offense to their reaction. “I can maybe handle the tours on my own. We can make up some story about Waverly—or God forbid Virginia—being sick and her needing to take a little time off. If you can do the designs—”

“I can,” Bailey said confidently.

“Of course you can. If you can oversee the designs—and pull anyone you have to in to help—I’ll film the tours with the homeowners.”

“But what about the on-camera design meetings?” Renee asked.

“Who’s up next?”

She read the names of two customers. One needed to see the plans for the house they’d just bought. The other wants a consultation to renovate their existing home. As far as client proposals went, both would be pretty easy. Easy if they had a designer.

Bailey pulled out a tablet and showed Renee the proposals for both homeowners. She gave an overview of the vision, explaining the price points and other factors for consideration. Without realizing it, she’d gone into pitch mode. She was selling the ideas, and doing one hell of a job at it.

That settled it.

“We don’t have a choice.” Wilder took a healthy gulp of his own cup of coffee. “Bailey will have to go on camera for these meetings. I can’t do it without a designer.”

“I can’t. That’s Waverly’s job. She’d kill me.”

“No, she won’t. She might not like it, but it’s her own damn fault. We can’t slow down production any longer because she’s . . .” He stopped himself just short of saying, “Because she’s screwing the network executive.”

“Because she’s what?”

“Because she’s not here.” It was the truth, if only part of it.

“It wouldn’t be right.”

“It wouldn’t be right to keep these nice folks from getting their dream homes just because Waverly bailed, would it? We can’t reschedule them. This show doesn’t work if we don’t help our clients get those dreams.”

“That’s true. What kind of explanation will we give?”

“What do you mean?”

“What will we tell the homeowners? The cameras?” Bailey gestured toward the production crew members loading up their equipment for the first job site where they’d film a segment that afternoon. “They’re going to need an explanation for why some random person is talking the customers through the possibilities instead of Waverly.”

“We say she has the flu.” They swiveled to face Renee, who had been watching their somewhat heated exchange from a safe distance. Now that there seemed to be less danger of getting burned, she stepped forward. “We tell the homeowners and the viewers that poor Waverly contracted the flu while she was on her way home from promotional work for the book tour.”

“But they barely know me.”

“That’s easy.” Renee rubbed her gloved hands together for warmth, or in excitement. “You’ll already be introduced to the viewers in earlier episodes as Waverly’s assistant. Given the way things have gone this season, we were probably going to have to increase your on-air time no matter what. This just forces the story line a little earlier than anticipated.”

Bailey still didn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure that backstory will work? Won’t people be able to figure out Waverly wasn’t anywhere near Texas—or her book tour—if they check their calendars?”

“No one knows the exact details of our production schedule. Heck, half the time we don’t either.”

Wilder let out a short laugh and caught a glimpse of humor on Bailey’s face, too. Good. She was softening up. He just needed to nudge her a little more. “You’ll be great at it. I’ll be right there next to you every second of the shoot. We’ll go over everything before we say it. We’ll do multiple takes—we usually do. We’ll get it.”

“Well . . .”

He gripped her by the shoulders, relieved when she didn’t flinch at the contact. “You’re our only hope for getting this show back on schedule. You know the proposed design concepts better than anyone else. They’re your designs.” Almost like he was watching a wall crumble down on demolition day, he could see Bailey’s reservations slip away. He lightly brushed her shoulders. “This will be an undisputed design for your portfolio. Consider this episode—this project—security for your next job.”

“What if I don’t know what to say?”

No matter how much confidence she might have in her designs, Bailey didn’t have that need for fame that drove Waverly to be on camera.

But she still had a personality that would shine through. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

“This is just like the other times. Only instead of it being you and me or you and Waverley, it’s you and me and a couple of our new best friends.”

It was a ridiculous thing to say, but it worked. The last brick fell over. He had her.

“Okay. I’ll do it.” She let out a shaky breath. “Oh, God. I’m so nervous I might throw up.”

“Please don’t. It turns off the homeowners.”

Bailey was still grinning at the idea of losing her breakfast in front of an audience when they left for the job site a few minutes later. She was going to be okay. No. She was going to be perfect. She was a natural. He could already tell.

***

“I know, I know I’m late,” Paige speed-apologized as she slipped into the chair across from Bailey at the restaurant. “I got caught up grading tests and totally lost track of the time.”

“A teacher’s work is never done.”

“No kidding.” She flipped open her menu without sparing it a glance. “So, how are you? I swear, I talked to—and saw—you more when you were living in Dallas.”

“I know—that’s my bad. I’ve been working through my weekends.” Bailey was basically running on adrenaline alone at this point. But it was okay. Every time she stepped inside one of the houses and saw the progress, a fresh jolt of energy flowed through her. “Waverly is doing some book and product line stuff back east, which means I get to be more hands-on with the design side of things right now.”

She hadn’t told her sister—or anyone—that she was actually on-screen a lot the past few days. Her shots could always end up on the cutting room floor. She didn’t want to disappoint anyone if it didn’t pan out. And if it did, well, it would be an exciting surprise.

Paige would probably be even more proud of Bailey for making a few appearances on TV than she had been when she earned her master’s degree.

“I can’t wait for Waverly’s book to come out,” Paige gushed. “I’m sure it will be ah-mazing.”

“Why would you read it? You hate doing any work around your house.”

“I don’t hate it. I just don’t need to do any of it because I have so many . . . friends who like doing those sorts of things. It would be rude to deny them the fun.”

“Uh huh.” Bailey highly doubted these “friends” were getting much joy from fixing her sister’s toilet and removing gobs of hair from the shower drain. And “friends” seemed like an awfully innocent way to describe the list of men whose hearts she had broken in the past decade.

The list was kind of alarming. Not that there was anything wrong with a woman playing the field. Especially when she went about it in a safe and responsible way. But Bailey worried about why her sister wouldn’t let a man get close to her—except in the bedroom. She’d only studied intro to psychology, so she was no mental health professional. Still, it seemed like she was tallying up the men and keeping them at arm’s length to avoid getting hurt the way they’d been when their father left.

She’d tried talking it over with their mama once. Instead of offering any insight, she’d begged Bailey not to bring up any of their extracurricular romantic activities again. A mother, she’d reasoned, didn’t need to know some things.

So Bailey was left to worry about her sister, and any repressed feelings, alone.

“Any dirt to spill?” Paige asked.

“Absolutely not. Remember that confidentiality agreement I signed? It’s still in effect.”

“Can you at least tell me how the show works? No spoilers, of course, and nothing that will get you in trouble.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“Please.”

Somewhere along the way her older sister had turned into the annoying and bratty little sister.

“Okay . . . you already know the basics. Wilder and Waverly move to a new town where they find an old home to fix up and eventually flip.” What she didn’t know, and what Bailey couldn’t tell, was that money really wasn’t a factor with that house. While Wilder and Waverly would have audiences believe they’d be destitute if it didn’t work out, their family was set. They had homes in Toronto and rental properties in New York—where their renovation and design businesses were actually located. The house on location was considered a business expense by the network.

“Have you seen this season’s project house?”

“Yep. It’s a beauty.” And so far, it was a money pit, which they’d counted on. They’d already discovered structural damage. Or rather Bailey just discovered it. They’d learned about it during the inspection. That was another little TV myth she wouldn’t be busting for Paige anytime soon. As she’d always suspected, most of the “structural flaws” weren’t some big mystery that suddenly appeared.

“Who is on your crew?”

“Wilder and Waverly, naturally, and this season they’re bringing in a new contractor. His name is Felix. He’s sweet and charming. I guess he and Wilder go way back.” There were also the countless crew members and assistants running around doing most of the work while the talent filmed their segments.

“Do you have any customers yet?"

“Some.” More like all of them. Plus, they already owned the homes they were fixing up. Unlike on TV, the production team lined up the “customers” for the season before Bailey even saw the job listing for an assistant designer. Regardless of what happened on-screen, most of the houses shown on TV weren’t actually on the market. The home they “choose” to renovate was actually one they’d already bought. It had to be done to get filming completed on schedule. The home-buying industry and process were just way too complicated to leave anything to chance. “I bet you’ll like a lot of the work you’ll see this year.”

“I just can’t get over how many houses they do in a season—and they film two a year. I wonder how they get it all done.”

“With lots of organization and hard work.” Plus, they had a dream team of experienced worker bees who did most of the work when the cameras weren’t rolling.

“What an amazing opportunity for you.”

“Yep.” On that point, at least, what Paige saw on the surface was the truth. This whole show was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Bailey.

“Are there any hotties working on the job sites?”

“Please tell me you aren’t thinking about staging a drive-by so you can add some fresh meat to your Rolodex of men.”

“Of course not. No one uses a Rolodex anymore.”

“Paige . . .”

“I’m kidding. I just thought that maybe there was a special someone—or better yet someones—on the crew who could make your stay in Austin more enjoyable.”

Bailey’s mind automatically shifted to Wilder and his strong shoulders and fit physique. She bet he could—nope. Delete. She could not go there.

“I’m not really in the market for a man,” Bailey said, before she could take his biceps under serious consideration. “I’m working.”

“You’re never in the market for a man—whether or not you’re working.”

“To each their own.” Much as she worried about her sister’s romantic entanglements, Bailey understood the feeling was mutual. Or rather, Paige worried about Bailey’s lack of romance. They’d probably never agree on that score. It would probably be best to change the subject, and as swiftly as possible. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“Actually . . . it’s less of a what and more of a how.”

Paige spared her an annoyed look. “Okay, how?”

“Well . . .” Bailey stretched out the word to drive her even more nuts. Some things never stopped being fun even when you were a full-fledged adult and your mama wasn’t around to tell you to stop. “How would you like to come spend a day on the job site sometime when we’re filming?”

Paige dropped her menu. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

“Will Wilder and Waverly be there? Can I meet them?”

“If you like.”

Paige let out a shriek and ran to the other side of the table to throw her arms around Bailey. “You are the best baby sister ever.”

Bailey hugged her back and grinned. It was nice. Teasing her sister wasn’t the only thing that never got old.

***

In the production office, Wilder couldn’t stop staring. The way she tilted her head while she was thinking. The easy, full laugh that seemed to erupt from within her whenever someone cracked a joke. The passion that poured from her when she explained her vision for a project. Bailey had it all. As expected, she was a natural on-screen. And there in the production room, where he was reviewing some of the footage from the past couple of days, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face.

Fortunately, there was no one around to judge him for gawking. Well, no one besides the editor running the feed, but he was distracted with selecting clips to show Renee first thing in the morning. Before she’d left for the night, she’d said she hoped there wouldn’t be any reshoots. From what he’d seen so far, her wish might come true.

In the shot now playing, Bailey had her laptop and tablet out to show the homeowners her plan for their future great room.

“Wilder and his team will remove this wall and install an I-beam for support. That will open up this area, which will be more functional and make the whole space seem even bigger.” Excitement glowed on her face. “We can upgrade your cabinets to something custom—I’m seeing a dark finish. Those would look great with the subway tiles and paint colors we’ve talked about. And, boy, will it sing to those hardwood floors.”

Wilder couldn’t help but grin at her enthusiasm. He caught the editor doing the same while making a note of the time on the display. Bailey would probably be a little embarrassed to be caught on camera geeking out over floors and cabinets, but she shouldn’t. It was cute.

“It’s all going to look stunning with the natural light you’ll get through the new windows and sliders we install.” She blinked and quickly added, “Waverly and I know you’ll love the way this looks when it’s done. You’ll get so much function out of it.”

The homeowners were every bit as captivated as Wilder was watching the performance. It wasn’t just her designs or what she was describing. They were pretty great, but also standard. It was her passion—her genuine love for the project and her desire to make it happen—that grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go.

Wilder absently rubbed his chest—not even realizing he was doing it for a full minute. He stared at the screen, her face flush with excitement. Yeah. She had him.