Page 102 of Mr. Fixer Upper
He grabbed his beer, violence in the movement. “Look. I get it. I do. But who exactly are you helping by backing down from the fight? What do you gain from staying away from me? You’re in the position to be fighting shit like this, not bowing down to it and accepting it as law.
“Are you just going to do a documentary pointing out all the double standard shit? Or are you going to show women how to stand up to that garbage? From this penis-wielding guy, I think you’d be doing a disservice to your audience if you only show them how to identify a problem, not solve it.”
Paige flopped back against the couch and covered her face with her hands. “Part of me wants to argue with you, and another part of me wishes I was recording this so I could use it in the film.”
The silence dragged on, both of them wallowing in their own thoughts.
“Want more wine?” he offered.
“God, yes.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“Paige!” Gannon’s voice bellowed in her headset.
“Geez! What? You don’t have to scream. You’re wearing a damn microphone.” She regretted ever giving him the headset when he wasn’t shooting scenes.
“Can you come down here? I need you to look at something.”
“I’m sure the rash is perfectly normal, Gannon. But if it would make you feel better, you should think about getting it looked at by a medical professional.” Paige joked for the benefit of the others listening in to their conversation.
“The kitchen tile, princess. Not my impressive and rash-free anatomy,” he shot back.
Paige smothered her laughter and signaled for Bradley to keep an eye on the B roll they were shooting for the backyard landscaping. A crew of sub-contractors was out there whacking away like it was untamed jungle.
“Oh, that Gannon.” Nina, one of Paige’s camera crew, shook her head, her shock of platinum blond hair with purple streaks, falling across her forehead. “He’s quite the character.”
Paige pointed a stern finger at Nina. “As your boss, I forbid you from being on his side.”
Nina shrugged. “It’s kinda hard not to like the guy, you know?”
Yeah, she knew.Paige was well aware of Gannon’s appeal. She just wished she only had her inner conflict to deal with, not everyone else’s opinions.
She made her way down a floor on the in-progress staircase to the main living level. She’d done her best to stick to her guns since their conversation two weeks ago, but Gannon’s words echoed in her head on repeat. And damn if she didn’t feel just the tiniest sliver of doubt creeping in.
Had she walked away from him because it was easier than standing up for what she wanted? What kind of a feminist was she if she only wanted to call attention to double standards and unfair treatment rather than actually fight them? Or was she just too far under Gannon’s sexy spell to see things clearly? That was a possibility that deserved examining.
She’d tried to explain the conversation to Becca, but when Becca announced they should interview him for the docu, she’d given up. It was a complicated situation that she seemed to be intent on complicating.
“You roared?” Paige said, picking her way around sawhorses holding two-by-fours and piles of discarded copper pipes.
“What do you think?” he asked pointing at the spread of cabinet, countertop, and tile samples. He stood in the middle of the gutted space that would be the new state-of-the art kitchen.
“What do I think of what?”
“What would look good in here?” He was impatient, hands on hips, shoulders tense.
“It’s your house,” Paige reminded him.
He closed his eyes, blew out a breath. “Just humor me.”
He’d asked her opinion here and there on other things in the house. Flooring, paint colors, light fixtures. She studied Gannon and the space. White cabinets were the trend, but this space and Gannon King didn’t need trendy. They required substantial, solid, masculine.
“Cabinets,” she said, pointing at the black walnut sample in an espresso stain two steps down from black. “Counter tops, light and clean. Probably quartz so you don’t have to seal it every year. One of these,” she said, waving her hand over two nearly identical samples of white quartz with gray veining.
He crossed his arms, brought a hand to his mouth, and watched her thoughtfully. “Backsplash?” he asked, giving nothing away.
She examined the samples, weighing and rejecting each one. Too feminine, too contemporary, too boring. Paige shook her head. “If you want my opinion, none of these. You need something with texture that fits with the rest of the building. Brick. But in a rough finish, nothing too smooth. Something that plays off of the exterior. It would be a pain to clean, but it would look really good.”
