Page 24 of Idle

“Are you ready for today? Living room and patio in a week is going to be a challenge.”

Wiping the sweat dripping down my forehead, I reply in the affirmative while mentally revisiting our plans to transform the room and outside area. I still want to do something more with the fireplace than what Paige suggested, but an idea is out of reach.

“We’re going ultra-modern with the whole place. Have you decided on a theme?” Her blonde ponytail flicks behind her with every movement.

No matter how attractive she is, she’s still my competitor. My rival for a new show on Renovation TV—and freedom from the staid banking world. Not going to give up any of our plans. “We’re not sure yet.” I may add an extra pant to convey my exertion.

“We always start with a theme. But I know everyone’s process is different.” Her ass sways with each movement, which appears more sensual than effective.

Tuning her out, I increase the incline and force my body into beast mode. Tomorrow’s arm day but today’s all about cardio. And I intend to get the most out of my workout. Before our first day of filming, whatever that might bring.

* * *

Wearing a bank t-shirt, I stand in the middle of the living room—have to hand it to my partner, the place doesn’t show any additional wear and tear from the party. I don’t share that praise with her, though, as she seems toexpectkudos. Like cleaning up after her party is something to be celebrated.

Getting to work, we remove the ugly carpet and survey the space. Paige focuses on the windows and furniture layout we created, while I stare at the ugly brick fireplace. We have to replace everything about it, but thanks to Renovation TV, we know it’s structurally sound.

I walk over to Paige. Time for the rubber to hit the road, as Mr. Hooper would say. “What are you thinking?”

Her chocolatey eyes bounce around the empty room, an unsure glint in them. She points to her paper. “I guess we should go with what we discussed. Sofa there.” She points in front of the fireplace. “Two chairs facing each other flanking it, coffee table in the middle, all anchored by a rug.” She turns her back. “On the patio, a grill would be nice.”

I follow her directions. “These are solid ideas, if a bit . . .” How should I say this? Uninspired? Boring? “Traditional. I thought we were going with pre-war with a modern twist? I’m only hearing pre-war with your concept.”

Her eyes narrow. “I’m trying here! What brilliant ideas do you have, hammer boy?”

My eyebrows raise. On a deep inhale, I swipe the paper from her hands and reply to her acerbic question with calm. “I understand the need for a sofa facing the fireplace. How about we do back-to-back sofas?” Using a pencil, I sketch my idea.

“One facing the fireplace and another the kitchen, once we remove that God-awful wall?”

I smile at her apt description. “Might be cool.”

She grabs my pencil and taps her bottom lip.Distracting. “I don’t like the idea of two sofas, though. How about we play around with the back? And make the seating part serpentine and extra wide? Like this.” She draws an image to explain her vision.

Very cool. “I could make that, no problem. I haven’t seen anything like it before. Well done.” I place my palm on top of her shoulder, which she leans into for a moment.

As if she realized our connection, she steps back. “As for the chairs, they could be something funky too. Maybe swivel chairs with arms that are uneven somehow?” The pencil taps her lip again.

Her creativity is sparking mine. “For the fireplace, I want it to be grand. Make it the focal point of the entire apartment. Especially since it’ll be across from the kitchen.”

She pauses from her drawing. “A covering going from the floor to the ceiling. With a television.” At my expression, she says, “I know, I know. TVs aren’t attractive, but they’re a necessity in the real world. I bet you can create something to hide it when it’s not in use, so it isn’t a big, black square.”

An idea takes shape. “I might be able to box it in as part of the entire design. We could put a piece of artwork over top of it that slides up hydraulically when you want to turn on the television.”

She claps. “Oooh, I like that!” Approaching the fireplace, she turns toward me. “But our budget. Where are we going to get a piece of artwork that big and stay within it?”

Seems like a no-brainer. “You could do it yourself.”

Shock crosses her face. “Are you kidding? Me? I’m no artist.”

I point to her perfectly proportioned room layout. “Seems to me you’re pretty good. I’m sure you could create something nice on canvas.”

Her head shakes from side to side. “No. I can do layouts, interior design stuff. Not something this big. No way.”

Why is she freaking out? It’s not like I asked her to create the Mona Lisa, only something generic to give the illusion of artwork. “The network gave us access to painters only for the walls, remember? I’m going to be busy creating the sofa and chairs, not to mention the fireplace. Looks like it’s on you, Paige.”

After a moment, her shoulders slump. “Yeah. Alright. I guess.”

She looks so dejected that I almost suggest we hit up the prop room, filled with items Quinn and her team scoured from all over the city. But we can’t—between pillows, throw blankets, and the rug, we’re banging against the budget. “I have faith in you.”

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