He’s the only reason I haven’t fallen apart already, and the reason I know I eventually will.
CHAPTER 15
NEW PLAN. WE BURN THE HOUSE DOWN.
Tucker
Scottie is different today.
Not in a way that the crew would notice, but I do. I’m finding I notice everything about her way more than I should.
Her laugh isn’t like it has been in the days before, and her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I watched her trembling hands on multiple occasions as she removed old cabinets and flipped through her design booklet. She’s quick to hide it, but I see it.
And it does something to me I don’t want to examine too closely.
Scottie stands off to the side of the kitchen with her hands on her hips, surveying the room like she’s about to conquer it with sheer optimism. She’s wearing her signature overalls, which I’m learning are strictly for construction work on this project, and underneath she’s paired them with a soft yellow crop top. She’s also wearing those damn pair of pink work boots today, and I assume it’s because of the cabinet door falling on her yesterday.
Smart girl.
She’s looking around the kitchen and taking in all the workshe did yesterday in a new light. The sun is shining outside today, casting a glow through the window.
The space is bright, like her.
I move to stand next to her, nudging her arm with my shoulder. “Green was a good choice.”
She turns her head, looking up at me. “I can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or if you mean it.”
“I mean it,” I say quickly, not wanting her to think otherwise. “I may joke about a lot of things, but I mean this.”
She eyes me curiously, and it leaves an uneasy feeling in my gut. It’s not the kind of look you toss at a coworker or a fake boyfriend for the cameras. It’s the kind that lingers too long, like she’s lining something up in her head and realizing it fits. That shouldn’t matter, but it does. She’s looking at me the same way I’ve been looking at her. I don’t know what scares me more. The possibility that she sees me or the fact that part of me wants her to.
Something changed yesterday.
I feel it in her stare.
She’s silently listening to the things I don’t say out loud, like she knows there’s more under the surface and isn’t backing away.
Is Scottie catching all the tiny details about me the same way I see hers?
The way her smile starts on the left.
The way her tongue sticks out when she’s focused on a project or with a tool in her hand.
The way she pretends she’s unaffected when I know she is.
It’s all just wishful thinking.
But I want it—I want her to notice me. Not the version the producers are going to edit together, and not the man I pretend to be when I need to survive the day. I’m craving for her to seeme,despite the fear that she could discover the dents and bruises of my past.
She opens her mouth to say something, but heels clicking onthe floor draw our attention to the archway leading to the kitchen. Andrea is clicking away on her phone when she comes to a stop, then looks up, takes it all in, and faces us with wide eyes and a smile. “Wow! This looks incredible.”
I turn to face Scottie again to let her answer. I watch as she straightens instantly, shoulders back and chin lifted like she’s flipping on that bright influencer switch—bubbly and effortlessly confident.
“Okay,” Scottie says, clapping once. “Who’s ready to rip up this…flooring situation?”
“It’s linoleum.”
She points to the floor as if it had personally offended her. “It’s a crime against kitchens everywhere.”
