Page 83 of Mr. Fixer Upper
A waiter wandered by with a tray of champagne, and Drake snagged two glasses.
“The only thing I saved you from was a very public civil suit that she would have filed against you for breaking her nose. It would ruin the nose job she got last year.”
Paige lifted her glass. “Meeghan’s plastic surgeon thanks you.” He mirrored her toast, and she drank deeply. If Drake hadn’t stepped in, she very well could have done something epically stupid. One season of too much exposure to Gannon King, and he’d turned her into a reactive, temperamental woman.
“Can I offer you a piece of unsolicited advice?” Drake asked.
“I feel that I owe you. Advise away.”
“Don’t take it personally. Yeah, the network’s pulling strings to make you dance, but they’re not doing it to hurt you or humiliate you. They’re just doing it to drum up ratings and sell more advertising. They use everyone as they see fit. It’s nothing personal.”
She knew it. Just as she knew not to take her mother’s constant judgment personally. But knowing it and not letting it eat away at her? Two entirely different things.
“I appreciate the advice,” she said, not willing to delve further into it.
There were photographers and cameramen mingling in the crowd, and Paige felt exposed. There was no sign of Gannon or Meeghan, but she didn’t want to look too hard.
“So what do you think of the place?” Drake asked, sweeping his hand toward the glass and metal staircase that led to a second floor.
“It’s impressive,” Paige said diplomatically. Her tastes didn’t run to industrial formal. She preferred warmth, character.
He leaned in conspiratorially. “You can tell me it looks like a James Bond villain’s lair. It won’t hurt my feelings.”
She bit her lip. “That’s exactly what it looks like.”
“I’ll tell you a secret. This place belongs to the network president. He bought it and decided he wanted it gutted, and what better way to save a buck or two than have your own network handle the labor?”
“Angus Pearson made you renovate his place?” Paige gasped.
Drake looked around them and suppressed a shudder. “I tried to guide him in a more human direction, but he was insistent, and he has horrific taste. So I went with it with a dose of irony. There’s a concrete urinal trough in the master.”
“There isn’t!” She laughed and then covered her mouth when she noticed a photographer turn in her direction.
“Oh, there is,” Drake insisted. “I’ll show it to you.” He guided her toward the monstrosity of a staircase, a warm hand resting lightly at the small of her back. She felt it, that tingle, that awareness, that crept up her spine andknew.
He was there at the foot of the stairs, hazel eyes boring into her with heat and frustration. A day or two’s worth of stubble graced his excellent jaw. Gannon’s broad shoulders gave shape to the navy blue blazer he wore. The white Oxford shirt was tucked into jeans tight enough to display his muscular thighs to their full advantage. He was so raw, so male, that even dressed in business casual, there was a predatory air about him.
She felt like he sucked all of the air out of the room, and she was left struggling for oxygen.
“Paige,” he said, leaning in and brushing a kiss over her cheek. His lips singed her skin.
“Hi, Gannon,” she said weakly. Cameras clicked away in the background.
Drake offered his hand. “Gannon King. I don’t think we’ve officially met at any of these things. I’m Drake Mackenrowe.”
“I try to get out of these things whenever possible,” Gannon said. His tone was light, but Paige felt like the weight of his gaze was crushing her.
“Do you ever do any commission pieces? I’ve got this idea for a buffet and no knowhow,” Drake said raising his flawless hands.
“It depends on the customer.”
“It’s for my grandparents. Fiftieth wedding anniversary’s coming up.”
“Gannon has a soft spot for grandmothers,” Paige said quietly.
“I’ve got a soft spot for a lot of people,” he countered, eyes boring into her.
“Liar.” Cat shimmied up in a designer dress worn with her typical careless perfection. “My brother doesn’t like most people,” she told Drake with a wink before she wrapped Paige in a warm hug. “Miss you, Paige. When are we going shopping?”
