Page 20 of Mr. Fixer Upper
“Wow.”
“Yeah, you can imagine how unhappy Summit-Wingenroth would be to hear about my pet project.”
“Are you quitting the show?” Gannon asked, suddenly seized by unease. He was just getting to know her. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye when he hadn’t figured her out yet.
She shook her head. “Not for another season yet. Becca and I are saving up so we don’t need to do much if any crowd funding for the production. I need this season and next to come up with my half.”
“You make shit money.”
Paige laughed, not taking offense.
It was true. For the amount of work that he saw her putting in on set, Gannon knew she should have been making almost double what she was.
“We’ve been saving for two years now,” Paige continued. “And shit money is still money. We eat bananas and Ramen and drink tap water when there’s no craft services to be had.”
Gannon leaned back in his seat assimilating the information she’d just given him. So not only was she not a network puppet, but Paige St. James wanted to pull back the curtain and reveal to the world the dirty goings on of television and the women who made it.
“Tell me more,” he demanded.
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When Paige started yawning at the end of every sentence, Gannon decided to let their conversation drop and let her rest. She got the least amount of sleep of anyone on the crew. First to arrive on set, last to leave. She set the example, and everyone else followed suit. When he looked at their little team, really looked, he realized Paige was the glue that kept them all moving, kept them all positive. And he felt like an idiot for not being more appreciative of it.
When her head lolled to the side to rest against his shoulder and she snuggled into his side in her sleep, Gannon wondered if maybe it was time to renegotiate his no women policy.
She was soft and warm against him, and that made him go hard and hot. The sun was setting outside their window as they flew over the mid-west bathing Paige’s face in a golden glow.
He studied her at his leisure now. She had her hands tucked between her knees as if she didn’t trust them to stay still while she slept. Her eyes were closed under the fringe of long inky lashes, and her hair smelled like tropical islands. The worry line that resided between her eyebrows was absent right now. He could see her freckles scattered across her nose and cheekbones.Who knew he had a thing for freckles?
“Don’t you two look cozy?”
Gannon dragged his gaze away from Paige’s face to his sister who was tucking her phone away and standing in the aisle. “We get along better when one of us is asleep,” Gannon joked softly, careful not to jar Paige awake.
Cat was looking at him expectantly.
“What?” he grumbled.
“Iknewyou had a thing for her,” Cat whispered, looking triumphant in her statement.
“Keep your gibberish down, or you’ll wake her,” he threatened.
“And then cuddle time would be over.” She gave him a playful pout. “Admit it. You’ve been into her forever.”
He gave her his best “don’t fuck with me” look, but Catalina King was immune to his temper.
“I’m just trying to get to know her a little better,” he told her. “Some new information came to light recently—”
“That you want to take our little Paige here and make sweet, sweet love to her?” Cat interrupted.
“Shut the fuck up, Cat,” he warned.
She held up her palms, the King symbol of surrender. “I’m just teasing. You know I love her. I’d do a Zumba routine right here and now if you told me you were throwing Meeghan over for Paige.”
At the mention of Meeghan’s name, Gannon stiffened and Paige murmured against his chest.
“I told you before. There is no me and Meeghan. Now, go back to your seat before I throw you in the overhead compartment.”
“Whatever you say, big brother,” Cat said, reminding him that he was indeed two minutes older than she was. “But you could do a lot worse and, in my opinion, not much better than our Paige here.”
