Page 46 of Mr. Fixer Upper
There was a slight pause. “That’s correct.”
“Then I imagine you can hypothesize how berating your daughter after a physical trauma might not be the right call.”
Dr. St. James sputtered on the other end of the line. He could hear it. The anger, the worry in her tone. She cared. She just didn’t know how to show it. Sometimes his own mother, a tough Italian broad as she liked to tell everyone, was the same way.
“Paige is going to be okay, by the way. Pretty banged up, but she’ll live and so will the boy whose life she saved.”
“I didn’t realize—”
“Look, Paige needs more sleep. Why don’t you call back this afternoon, and I’d suggest leading with ‘Are you okay?’”
“Mr. King,” she began.
“Gannon.”
“Gannon, I appreciate that you’re looking out for my daughter, but I find your tone disrespectful and entirely uncalled for.”
“I was just about to say the same to you,” he yawned. “I’ll tell her you called and asked about her. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” Gannon hung up the phone.
He swiped his hand over his face. It looked as though he was officially awake for the day. As much as he wanted to stay in this bed with Paige, he needed to get back to his room before anyone saw him sneaking shirtless out of hers. Gannon didn’t care much about appearances, but it would upset Paige if people knew he’d spent the night with her.
He’d play ball. For now.
He switched on the bedside lamp and gave himself a moment to study her. The bruising on her face and the bump looked even worse now, mottled purple and blue. The violent evidence of her injuries still managed to work him up. He could have lost her without ever really having had her. This was no potential fling. These feelings were real and deserved to be explored, for both their sakes.
They were officially dating whether Paige liked it or not, whether she acknowledged it or not. And he wasn’t leaving her side.
“Paige,” he whispered her name. She murmured something in her sleep, and he took the opportunity to lean closer, his lips brushing her ear. “Princess.”
“Mmph.”
“Paige, I’m going back to my room.”
“You’re leaving?” she croaked.
“It’s almost morning.” He brushed her hair back from her face avoiding the bump on her head.
“I’m getting up.” She murmured, but her body looked like it was refusing to acknowledge her words.
“Why don’t you get some r—”
Paige rocketed into a sitting position and tried to cover her yelp of pain with a yawn.
“You’re going to hurt yourself all over again.”
She gingerly scooted herself to the edge of the bed but seemed in no hurry to attempt standing. She had to be hurting. Every visible inch of her was black and blue. He could only imagine what her muscles were screaming at her right now.
“I have to get to the set,” she said, refusing to look at him.
Gannon rolled his eyes and walked around the bed stopping in front of her. He nudged her chin up. Or at least tried to. Her gaze seemed to get stuck somewhere around his crotch, and then he remembered he was wearing only his underwear.
“Eyes up here, princess.”
The grumpy look she gave him did his heart good. She was going to be okay. If she took her recovery seriously, but he’d help her with that.
“About this going to the set—”
“I’m not staying in bed all day while everyone else works and worries,” she said defiantly.
