Page 34 of Mr. Fixer Upper
“We were just… arguing.”
Cat ignored her lie. “I had a feeling about you two from the very first time I saw you put him in his place. Gannon needs someone who’s not going to kiss his ass. He really likes you.”
“Cat, I don’t want to talk about your brother!”
Cat did a little spin on the floor. “Okay, then tell me about cute polo shirt guy.”
“Why don’t you tell me about tall plaid shirt man?”
Cat lasted two songs on the dance floor before she finally let Paige drag her back to the bar. “It’s my birthday,” she announced at the top of her lungs, and the crowd around them cheered.
Drink tokens started lining up in front of her as if they sprouted out of the bar. Paige slapped one out of her hand. “Uh-uh. Grease and water first.”
Cat picked up a chicken finger and bit into it. “Paige is my baby-sitter,” she explained to Gannon.
“I can see that,” her brother said, enjoying drunk Cat.
Cat stopped chewing abruptly, her face going serious. “Did you know it’syourbirthday, too?”
Gannon looked at Paige over his sister’s head. “How much did you let her drink?”
“Hell if I know. I was distracted.”
“Rico?” Paige waved the cameraman down. “Did you see how much Cat drank?”
He shrugged his shoulders under his purple bowling shirt. “Saw her do a couple of shots with that table of college kids. You see Cat drinking anything, Mel?”
Mel cruised up with a gin and tonic in one hand and a fistful of phone numbers in the other. “Cat? I saw that plaid shirt cowboy buy her a couple of rounds. Oh, and then the bartender gave her some pink frothy drink.”
“Crap,” Paige muttered. Between Marcus and Gannon, she’d shirked her duties. There was no way Cat was coming out of this unscathed. And a hungover Cat during shooting was worse than a sober Gannon.
They lasted another hour at the bar before Paige recognized Cat’s puke face and dragged her out. The bushes in the parking lot took the brunt of it, but Cat promised she felt good enough to not throw up in the van. They all piled inside in varying stages of sobriety and inebriation, and Gannon—sober on his birthday—drove them back to the hotel. Cat made good on her word and waited to throw up again in the hotel parking lot. She waved enthusiastically to the desk worker, slurring out something about birthdays.
Gannon and Paige helped Cat to her room. Paige forced her friend to wash off her makeup and brush her teeth before tucking her into bed. She found Cat’s stash of Gatorade in the mini fridge and left a bottle of it on the nightstand next to a bottle of aspirin. Cat was snoring by the time Paige let herself out.
Gannon was waiting in the hallway.
“She’s passed out,” Paige reported. “But we’d better send Mel or Sam for breakfast sandwiches in the morning. She’s going to need the grease.”
Gannon nodded but said nothing.
“I guess I’ll turn in, too,” Paige said, nerves were making her chatty.
“I’ll walk you to your room.”
She shot him a warning look.
“I said I’ll walk you to your room, not peel your shorts off of you.”
The image he planted in her mind taunted her enough to trip over her own feet as they walked side by side down the hall without touching. He grabbed her arm, righting her, and she pulled away.
She stopped in front of her door and fished the key out of her pocket. “Good night, Gannon.”
“Good night, Paige. Dream good dreams.” That sexy smirk told her exactly what he knew she’d be dreaming about.
She let herself in and shut the door before she could lose her mind and invite him inside. They both knew it was a terrible idea. She had no interest in being publicly linked to him. It would be career suicide for her, and she needed one more season before she could move on from this life.
But it was still tempting. He was tempting.
