Page 14 of Mr. Fixer Upper
“So what can I do for you, Gannon?”
“I was studying my call sheet—”
“Don’t be a smart ass,” she interrupted.
“Do you want to know what I’m doing here or not?” he asked.
She held up her hands in surrender. “Please, continue.”
“I was studying my call sheet when I realized I don’t know you very well.”
“And that’s suddenly a problem?” Paige looked skeptical.
“It is when we’re spending the next few months together, depending on each other.”
“Why wasn’t this an issue last season when we spent three months together depending on each other?”
She was quick and showed only a suspicious interest in his presence. “Who says it wasn’t?” Gannon countered.
He rose from the couch and prowled around her room. Being contrary, she took a seat on a rickety arm chair when he stood. She didn’t bother with any personal mementos, he noted. Neither did he. There was no use carting around pictures or knick-knacks when he spent so much time on the road. Besides, he traveled with his sister, and they usually had a weekend or two that allowed them to head home between states and shoots.
“It’s a problem for me now.”
“Gannon,” she sighed his name out, and it made him wonder how she would sound if she were naked and he was touching and tasting her. He’d never not been physically attracted to her. He’d just come into the show with a chip on his shoulder and a lesson learned about women that shouldn’t be trusted. But it appeared he’d been a little hasty when he’d shoved Paige into that category.
“Did I mention where I was when I had this epiphany?” he asked.
“No. But I’m sensing a punch line.”
“I was enjoying the sunset view of the parking lot from my balcony—”
She swore colorfully, and he laughed.
“How much did you overhear?”
“All of it. You’ve got balls, sweetheart, talking to an executive producer like that.”
“Eddie’s a good boss. He at least listens even if there’s nothing that he can do.”
She shoved out of her chair and got up to walk off her frustration. It was another tell. Whenever Paige was stressed, she had to move. She couldn’t stay still.
“Why aren’t you screaming and swearing at me?” she asked, stopping at the balcony door, her back to him.
He came up behind her, invading her space just a bit, letting her feel him there. She stiffened but didn’t retreat.
“Honest?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“I was more interested in hearing you saying things no network kiss-ass would ever say and getting pissed about whatever scheme they’re cooking up for ratings or dollars.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I may have misjudged you, Paige.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Paige closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of her seat. The plane would be taking off and delivering her team to their next shoot in Maine, and in the interim, she’d grab a few hours of well-earned sleep.
