Page 10 of Idle

Sporting a knowing smile, Shelby leads Jesse toward me. If only she knew his exterior may say “sexy man,” but his interior is all nerdy cave dweller. “Your date is here, Paige.”

I shoot her a dirty look—to which she licks her lips—then transfer my gaze to Jesse. “Take a seat.”

“Thanks.”

After Shelby gives Jesse another once over, she leaves. Oblivious, his overly large hand lands on the back of the chair and pulls it backward, allowing his well-proportioned butt to sit across from me.

Shunting my wayward thoughts aside, I decide to play nice. “I know this was short notice.”

“I hope you have some good news to tell me.” He picks up the napkin and places it onto his lap, pretending to have some manners. I remember our lunch from the other day and know the truth.

Mirroring his action, I lift the fork and remove my own napkin, rubbing my suddenly clammy hands against it before dropping it to my lap. “Well, I do still have some questions.”

“I understand. Shoot.”

To buy time, I play with the stem of my water goblet. “What do you know about this new television show? It’s a competition, correct?”

“Yes, it is a competition program where every team is going to be given the same exact room in similar apartments to renovate. The judges then come in and judge each room, with the loser being eliminated.”

Our server pours the sparkling water I ordered prior to Jesse’s arrival and asks for our drink orders. He leaves to get my Mexican mule and Jesse’s Guinness while I process the theme of the show. “I’ve never seen a show set in an apartment building rather than individual homes before.”

“Me neither. They’ll have all of New York City to show off in addition to the remodeling. I don’t know, they may request that we purchase items only available here, like something from a special design store on the Upper East.”

A couple of my favorite shops flit into my mind. “Guess it depends on who pays the advertising money.”

His fingers fiddle with the silverware on the table. I try to ignore how masculine they are. “It’s always about money.” His face contorts, as does mine, but I’m sure we have very different reasons.

Our drinks are dropped off and we place our orders, both of us choosing items off the appetizer menu. Something the restaurant can do fast, which will allow us to get out of here quicker than picking tile for a backsplash. No point in prolonging this agony.

A table filled with women take their seats next to us, each one of them ogling my date. Date? No Neanderthals need apply. Possible business partner.Get your head on straight, Paige.

Swallowing my first taste of the refreshing mule, I ask, “Can you please explain more about what would be required of us during this competition?”

“As best I understand, we will be given directions about how to complete a room in the most general sort of terms. It will be up to us to decide how we want to move forward. I’m not sure if there will be extra carpenters at our disposal or available props like paint and furniture. The website doesn’t say.” He ends his description with a swig of beer.

“Essentially what you’re saying is I’ll come up with a design idea and you’ll execute the items inside it like furniture, a fireplace mantel, shelving, that sort of thing. I will be responsible for the overall look and feel of the room. Do I have that right?”

“I think so.” He lifts his beer. “Although, I would expect to have some input into design as well.”

This arrangement is along the lines of what I did when I flipped the house in Brooklyn. Then I was able to access professional interior designers and got their feedback on my designs. No matter what, my flip was successful, so I’m sure I can deal with this little competition. I fiddle with the handle of my drink.

“How many other people did you ask to be your partner before you landed on me?”

His sexy eyes—which are taking on a greener hue from the walls that are a shade of evergreen—meet and hold mine.I wonder what secrets they hide?After indulging in a prolonged sip of his Guinness, he replies, “I did ask around. It’s a tough sell, given that it’s a busy time of year. I, myself, am trying to figure out how to make this work with my job if, in fact, we are selected by Renovation TV.”

That’s one worry I don’t have. Score one for the unemployed! Remembering our meeting today with Mr. Laughlin, my joy is short lived. Deciding to deflect attention, I ask, “You work for a bank, right?”

“Yes.” he sits taller. “It’s a respectable job, a reliable one,” he shrugs. “I’m hoping this television show will give exposure to my company—Handmade by JD—and allow me to explore working in carpentry, but banking is a solid career.”

“Never said it wasn’t.” His vehement defense of working at a bank gives me pause. What is he hiding?

Our appetizers are brought to the table, and I dig into the stuffed mushroom caps. I get these every time I come to Vinnie’s, as the crab and crème fraîche add a level of sophistication to an otherwise pedestrian dish. For his part, Jesse picks up one of his ten ribs and dunks it into the barbeque sauce.

The women at the next table all stare at him eating with his hands. When he sucks his thumb into his mouth, they giggle. Scowling at them, I point my fork at him. “You should use your knife.”

His eyebrows reach his hairline. “Too hard with the bones. They’re delicious. Want a bite?”

Not really, especially as he’s holding out an entire rib.Barbarian. But maybe I should, to show those women he doesn’t match his wrapping.

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