Page 72 of Mr. Fixer Upper
Her gasp fogged up the windshield. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think I have no mental faculties whatsoever, and I’ll just decide that I’m fine being the other woman?”
“I expect you to trust me! Do you honestly believe that I’d put you in that position? How can you think that?” Volcano Gannon had just erupted. But this time, it wasn’t Paige’s job to calm him down and refocus him.
“Trust you? Yourgirlfriend—that I asked you about repeatedly—showed up on set to surprise you, suck your face off, and then I saw you dragging her into your hotel room!”
That shut him up for a second. “Ah, Christ. That wasn’t what it looked like, Paige.”
The look she shot him would have felled a lesser man.
He clenched and relaxed his fists, took a deep breath and then another. “Look, I know exactly how it looked and how that sounded. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry you were ever put in that position. But I thought you knew me. I thought you trusted me.”
“You aren’t making any arguments about the facts, Gannon.”
“What the fuck do you want me to say? That that,” he gestured in the direction of the hotel, “could never on its best day be real? That it never was anything and that it kills me that you don’t believe me or that she thought she could come in here and stir up trouble for you so she could get attention and ratings? She’s a fucking piranha, and she’s nothing to me. It was the network, and I told you that.”
She felt it, that unwelcome spark of hope burst to life inside her aching heart. But she shook her head, trying to ward it off. He lied. He made her look and feel like a fool. Her job, her reputation, was at risk because he’d played games with her.
“Don’t shake your head, Paige. That was never real. But what I feel for you and what I think you feel for me? That’s fucking real. I need you Paige. I…”
He trailed off fighting the words.
“Just say it,” Paige murmured, staring woodenly at the dashboard.
“I love you.”
She took the words like a hit, crumpling in on herself. Nothing he could have said could have produced more pain than those words.
“I had my suspicions,” he continued. “But when you walked off set today, I felt like I was watching my life walk away. And I knew. I love you, Paige, and you’re killing me by not trusting me.”
“Don’t you dare say that! Not now, not because of this. That’s cruel, and that’s one thing I never thought you were,” Paige said with a sob. No, she didn’t want the hurt. She didn’t want those words as an apology. She wanted to get back to the anger. It was safer, meaner.
She reached for the door handle, but Gannon was grabbing for her over the console. “Don’t go.” She heard the desperation, the pain, and hated how her skin heated at his touch.
“You can’t go,” he said as if he’d made the decision for her and that was that. She shoved at his hands, but he was pulling her back. When she turned to tell him exactly how much she hated him in that moment, his mouth was so close.
Looking back, she couldn’t remember which one of them made the move, but in one heartbeat they were fighting each other, and in the next their mouths were fused together. There was so much heat, so much anger, in the kiss.
It felt mean and desperate and needy. His hands were everywhere, and it vaguely registered to Paige that hers were greedily trying to drag him across the console to her. Sheneededhim like oxygen.
His lips bruised hers, teeth dragging over her, tongue delving into her. “I love you, Paige. I love you so fucking much.”
She barely heard the words over the racket of her heart pumping thickened blood through her veins. She tasted something salty but didn’t care. She poured herself into the kiss. But it was Gannon pulling back.
“Honey,” he breathed, his voice ragged with pain. Gannon dragged his thumbs over her cheeks, and it was only then that Paige realized she was crying. “Please don’t cry. You’re killing me, Paige.”
He pulled her to him again, but this time it was to cradle her against his chest. He kissed the top of her head, and her heart broke just a little bit more. This was the Gannon she knew, the Gannon she wanted. But who was the man who dragged Meeghan Traxx into his hotel room?
He couldn’t be both.
“Take me back to the hotel, please,” she said, her voice flat as she looked away from him and leaned against her door.
“Paige—”
“I can’t do this Gannon. You obviously have things that need to be worked out, and I can’t risk my reputation on a mess like this. Not when I’m so close to really doing something.”
Without his warmth, she felt cold, empty. Alone.
“This isn’t over.”
