Page 46 of Idle

Loaded question. “We’re starting up the final round tomorrow.”

“Congratulations. I knew you were going to take that network by storm.”

I wish I had his confidence. “I’m trying, Mr. Hooper. I never expected the emotional rollercoaster, that’s for sure. Things got pretty tense here tonight.”

“I’m assuming it’s down to you and your partner and one other pair, right?”

“Yes, Paige is my partner,” I remind him. “And the other team is a divorced couple, Mary Ellen and Bo.” Even saying his name makes me want to rinse my mouth out with soap.

“I’m sure tensions are running high, but don’t let it mess with your head. What do you have coming up for the final round?”

I fill him in on our design for the primary suite. He chuckles. “You don’t do anything halfway, do you? A carved headboard?”

“I don’t know. Am I biting off more than I can chew?”

“Have you ever done anything like it before? I mean, in my class you did carve legs to a dining room table, right?”

“Yeah. And that was ten years ago. I’ve done a little bit of carving since, but nothing to this scale. I’m more of a whittler.”

He laughs. “I remember introducing you to that. Took to it like a duck to water.”

Wishing I had a block of wood and my trusty knife in here, I wiggle my fingers. “It centers me. Always has.”

“No matter what, know I’m proud of you, Jesse. You made it all the way to the final round. That’s amazing.”

“Thanks.” Since I’m still in shorts from the High Line, I strip off my shirt and walk around the gym. Even though I already did my workout for the day, another round will take the edge off. While I talk with Mr. Hooper, I hop on the elliptical and tell him about tonight’s dinner explosion.

“Hot doggie. That Bo sure has some backwards thinking. Paige was right to call him out.”

“I know. But where’s the quiet part of carpentry? I don’t want to be involved with all this drama.”

“Youareon a reality television show. Stuff like that happens all the time. Wouldn’t be surprised if the producers put him up to it.”

Would Quinn do that? Somehow, I doubt it. I kick the bottom of the elliptical. “Sucks.”

“Not for ratings.”

He has a point. Changing the subject to focus on what I need to do once filming starts again, he gives me some wonderful pointers and time-saving strategies for carving. My confidence boosted—along with my faith his health is on track since he didn’t cough once during our conversation—I give my high school teacher a big thanks, toss the phone onto a table, and hop on the rower.

An hour later, I get off the machine. Sweaty, tired, and not wanting to sleep in the same room as the snoring wonder, I decide to shower and take the couch. At least it’ll be quieter. I enter the bedroom, where Bo pounces. “Your partner is fucking nuts.”

I inhale a deep breath. With a level voice, I reply, “She’s not the crazy one.”

He steps into my face. “What’s that supposed to mean, Daisy?”

Not about to let him get away with anything, I drop my shirt and get up in his grill like he’s in mine. “It means you were spouting stupid shit and Paige called you out on it. What the hell were you thinking? You basically told her a woman couldn’t be a carpenter.”

“Haven’t met one yet.”

“Marion. Peyton,” I counter.

“Kicked off in the first round.” He shoves his palms against my bare chest.

I don’t move a muscle. “Don’t touch me, jackass.”

“What? Like this?” He shoves me again.

This time, I’ve had enough. With a roar, I duck my head and rush him. He stumbles back toward the bunks, halting before making contact.

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