Page 88 of Mr. Fixer Upper
She laughed. “By who—and don’t say Cat.”
“Nonni. She’s cooking, and she’s wanted to meet you since I started telling her about this stubborn woman who wouldn’t let me have my way last season.”
The infamous Nonni. Paige had been dying to meet the woman even before Gannon confessed her role in his decision to be on television.
“I can hear you biting your lip,” Gannon said, his voice getting huskier.
She stopped gnawing on her lower lip. “I come to dinner with you and your grandmother, and you tell me about a job?” She wanted clarification. Gannon King was nothing if not sneaky.
“Dinner at my grandmother’s. You can listen to Nonni berate me in the kitchen. I’ll tell you about the job, we’ll eat something amazing and carb-laden, and then you can send me home to my sad, empty bed.”
“Gannon.” It was a warning to them both. Paige didn’t fully trust herself around the man. He made her feel too impulsive, and one too many glasses of wine or a particularly low day and she didn’t trust herself not to crawl into his lap.
“Just one friend confiding in another. I miss you. I want to see you, and I hate that I had to go out and find a job just so I can see you.”
She missed him, too. And she desperately needed gainful employment. And, damn it, she was an adult. She didn’t need to touch the stove a second time to know she’d get burned. She was a St. James. St. James women learned fast and preferred independence.
“What time?” she asked.
“Seven. Six,” he corrected. “Then you can watch Nonni in action in the kitchen. I’ll send a car for you.”
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The car Gannon sent for her was actually a truck. And he was behind the wheel.
Paige drummed her fingers where they rested on her hips. She’d gone with a short sleeve sweater the color of ripe plums, jeans, and, in homage to the fall, a pair of soft suede boots that ended above the knee. “You didn’t say you’d be picking me up,” she accused.
Gannon flashed her that badass grin from behind the wheel. “You didn’t ask. Had to make sure you were actually coming.”
She glared at him, an effect that was ruined by her sunglasses, and climbed in. It was a work truck, she noted, with the Kings insignia on the doors and one of those shiny metal toolboxes mounted in the bed of the truck. It was tall, manly, and completely impractical for city living. But it was far more comfortable than any production van or compact car rental she’d experienced.
Gannon smoothly pulled away from the curb, heading toward Brooklyn. He looked at home behind the wheel, relaxed in worn jeans and a faded t-shirt dressed up by the army green cotton blazer he wore. He steered with his left hand, a Band-Aid riding low on the knuckle of his index finger. His right arm rested on the seat back behind her.
He lookedgood, really good. Paige felt that familiar flutter in her belly and immediately quelled it. They’d had their chance. It hadn’t worked out.
“So tell me about this job.”
He shook his head, grinned. “Nope. Not ‘til we get to Nonni’s.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of job is this? Is it something that you think would make me jump from a moving vehicle?”
“You have such a trusting nature, Paige.”
“I work in reality TV. What do you expect?”
“I expect you to be nice and make small talk with me until you meet my grandmother and then we get down to business.”
It was a small request, easily granted, and worse still, it was the polite thing to do. She grimaced. “Sorry. My desperation is showing. What have you been doing since we’re not shooting?”
“That’s my girl,” he said cheerily. “I’ve been clearing my head with a few pieces, a dining set, and I’m getting back up to speed at Kings. Got our hands on this four-story in Cobble Hill, two retail shops on the bottom and six units above.”
“A lot of work?”
“Gut job. Some asshole slumlord owned it, and the bank foreclosed. Good bones, but everything else has to go.”
She nodded, bit her lip. “Can I see the furniture?” Paige asked. No matter what transpired between them, nothing would ruin her appreciation for Gannon King’s artistic abilities.
“Not satisfied with your coffee table?” he teased.
