Domestic Do-over Page 6

  Travis was touched that Brandon had apologized, and he realized suddenly that Brandon really was stressed about the project. Travis hadn’t recognized the extent to which Brandon’s life had been upended by his divorce and how much pressure he was under to make the project and the show successful. Travis’s role in this was pretty minor—he had a salary and would get paid for his hours worked whether the show did well or not—but Brandon was financially and professionally tied up in it, with a greater personal cost if the project tanked. He had new sympathy for Brandon. “I accept your apology. And I’m sorry if I was more… aggressive than I should have been. I just… I mean, this house should have been condemned, but you can easily picture how it once was. I hated to see all that wiped out, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.” Brandon offered Travis a little smile.

  “Brooklyn is a weird real estate market.”

  Brandon let out a sigh. He walked over to the door and picked up his backpack. “Well, we’ve had a moment, I guess.”

  Travis laughed. The bubble of tension around them popped so suddenly, Travis was surprised he hadn’t noticed it was there. “We have.”

  “Thanks for listening. I have to get home. See you tomorrow.”

  Chapter Six

  WHEN BRANDON walked into the house, he found Travis at work demolishing the fireplace. He had a drill with a chisel attachment that he was using to break up the mortar, and he removed the bricks in chunks. The sound of demolition throughout the house was so loud Brandon couldn’t hear his own footsteps. In fact, Travis was focused on taking the fireplace apart and didn’t hear Brandon approach.

  That gave Brandon a moment to enjoy the view. Travis’s plain black T-shirt clung to his chest and arms, and those corded muscles flexed as he removed each chunk of brick. His skinny jeans had seen better days—the holes in the knees looked like they were caused by wear and tear, and not like they were artfully put there by the store that produced them. But Lord, those jeans just caressed Travis’s ass and thighs. Travis had a tool belt slung low on his hips, and he periodically put the drill on a nearby sawhorse and pulled a chisel from the belt to hack at the mortar. He was sweating so much that Brandon could see a bead of moisture at the end of the lock of hair that hung over Travis’s forehead. And Travis sported a few days’ worth of beard growth.

  He was ridiculously sexy, masculine without being over-the-top, and looking at him made Brandon’s whole body wake up and take notice.

  This was so bad.

  He cleared his throat and said, “Hey, Travis.”

  Travis turned his head. “Oh, hey. Didn’t see you there. Making good progress on the fireplace.”

  “I see. Did the camera crew get any footage of you working on it?”

  “They did. They filmed me for almost an hour. It reminded me of my boss at my first construction job. That guy used to hover and pick everyone’s work apart. If he’d actually done some work himself instead of just supervising, we would have gotten our projects done a hell of a lot faster.”

  “Sure. But viewers love demo. I don’t know why.” Except that he totally did, because he could have watched Travis work like this all day.

  Travis shrugged. “It’s fun. I mean, this is a lot more tedious than bashing kitchen cabinets with a sledgehammer, but I’m actually finding it kind of therapeutic.”

  Brandon smiled at that. “Sure.”

  “Anyway, the cameras are downstairs filming the repairs to the foundation. I put Ismael in charge of overseeing that.”

  “That’s fine. I trust Ismael.”

  “Good. His whole crew wore their company shirts today. I think Ismael is hoping the phone number on the shirt gets picked up on camera.”

  Brandon chuckled. It was the policy of the Restoration Channel to hire local when possible and therefore provide jobs for workers in the community where the show was filmed. Brandon and Kayla had used a half-dozen different companies for Dream Home, though they’d had a group of five project managers who alternated so that no single person got stuck doing too many projects at once. In their heyday, the now-defunct B & K Homes could work on five houses at a time.

  “Okay,” Brandon told Travis. “Kayla’s coming tomorrow, by the way. Do you think we’ve demolished enough that we can start talking about design?”

  “Mostly.” Travis tucked his chisel back into his belt and stood. “I mean, all the demo is done except for the fireplace. You guys can get started on the design while we finish the last of the repairs. And some of the work we do will depend on what kind of flooring you want.”

  “You don’t want to sand down and keep the old floors?”

  Travis grimaced. “I’m of two minds. There are spots where the floors need to be repaired. You could have patches custom made, but that kind of work could end up costing more than just replacing the floors. Plus, given how creaky the floors are, we should probably pull everything out, replace the subfloors and make sure they’re level, and then lay down new wood floors that mimic the look of the old floors. That’s what I would do. But it’s your project.”

  “Right.” Brandon had noticed that the hallway near the front door was particularly creaky, moaning whenever anyone walked on it.

  “We could patch the subfloors to fix the creaks. There are some cheaper workarounds. But I think, given how much I’m guessing you’d want to sell this house for, it would probably be better to just redo the floors. Sorry.” Travis narrowed his eyes at Brandon. “You’re tuning me out, aren’t you?”

  “No. Just thinking about what I’d like to do.” Replacing the subfloors and floors on the entire first floor was going to be expensive. But so would the patches; Travis was right that custom patchwork was pricey.

  “I’m really trying to keep your costs down,” said Travis. “At this point, I think a good compromise would be to redo the floors entirely across the first floor, but then maybe not take down so many walls, because the steel beam we would need if we took down this wall over here?” Travis crossed the room and put his hand on the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen. “It’s a few thousand dollars. Why not keep the wall and put the money toward the floors?”

  “Buyers today want open concept.”

  “Some do, yeah. But not all. And didn’t you just tell me you thought I might have been right about the neighborhood?”

  “Yes, but not about the walls. That’s a hell of a compromise. I can already see the open house. ‘Oh, I wish this wall weren’t here.’”

  “You don’t need the wall gone for the kitchen design. You can add more storage on the other side, in fact.”

  “I don’t know. I have to think about it.”

  “I’m just saying. We’re well over budget. Do you have a hard spending limit?”

  “I do, yeah. We’re not there yet. So I can spend a little more.” Which was true. He did have a ceiling figure in mind—the top dollar amount he was willing to spend. Still, while he could go over budget, he’d feel better about the project if they didn’t test that limit.

  “We can also make some other compromises.”

  “I know.”

  “Houses like this weren’t built to be open concept. These walls are keeping the whole house up. We can do engineered beams, but again, there are cheap and expensive options. You can have beams that hang across the ceiling, or you can cut holes and make them flush with the ceiling, or you can lower the ceiling height, or you can just… not take down every wall. I agree, lose the one between the hall and the living room so the front entrance doesn’t feel so narrow, and get rid of the one between the kitchen and dining room to make one large entertaining space. But this wall? Let’s keep it.”

  “I have to think about it.”

  “Or you can make compromises with materials. Granite countertops instead of quartz or marble. Prefab cabinets instead of custom. Keep the existing footprints in the bathrooms instead of moving plumbing around.”

  “None of these things feel like options.”

  “They
all cost money.”

  Brandon grunted. “God, I know. I don’t know what to do. This is why I called in Kayla.” The walls of the house felt like they were closing in on him, even though they were mostly just framing right now and not actual walls. “But we can’t put cheap finishes in a multimillion-dollar home,” he said, though his voice came out shaky and thin.

  Travis must have sensed his panic, because he reached over and put a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. Which was just too fucking much, because Brandon could not have a man this sexy touching him and still somehow hold himself together. He jumped, his nerves getting the better of him, and stepped away from Travis’s touch.

  “Jeez,” Travis said. “Sensitive much.”

  “Sorry.” Brandon rubbed his forehead. “I know you’re trying to help. But I just can’t right now.”

  “Depending on what happens downstairs with the foundation, we may need to make some more decisions today.”

  “I know, I—”

  “You do have experience with all this, right? I know this is your first solo show, but did you have other consultants on Dream Home? You seem uncomfortable here.”

  He was uncomfortable. For so many reasons. “Did I not cut open my chest and bleed all over here yesterday?”

  Travis held up his hands. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

  “It’s all very well for you to sit there in judgment of me. It’s not your money or your reputation on the line.”

  Travis rolled his eyes. “No, I’m just the sidekick.”

  “Did I say that?” Lord, but Travis got Brandon’s goat. “We can have these arguments on-camera or off, but it doesn’t change a few fundamental things.”

  Travis crossed his arms. “I’ll bite. What are those things?”

  Everything kind of hit Brandon at once. Here he was, staring down the best-looking man he’d set eyes on in years, trying to figure out how to keep this house standing so he could sell it, a project that cost more with every problem they uncovered. That looming failure weighed on him heavily. He held up his thumb. “First, it’s my money on the line. The Restoration Channel is taking on some of the financial burden, but if this first house is a big flop, that’s it. I fail, the show gets canceled, and my reputation is a joke.”

  “Right.”

  “Second.” Brandon held up his index finger and took a step closer to Travis. “Every decision I make impacts the value of the house, so yeah, I’m worried about how much I spend.”

  “I’m not questioning you. I’m just telling you the issues as I see them and trying to find solutions that won’t bankrupt you.”

  “I know. I know that’s what you’re doing. And it makes me crazy every time you open your mouth, because of the third fundamental thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  They stood about a foot apart now. Travis dropped his arms, and Brandon could see the V of sweat at the top of his shirt. He even smelled good, like musky sweat and man, and it was so appealing that Brandon took a small step closer.

  “The third thing,” Brandon said under his breath, “is that I am so attracted to you, I can’t see straight.”

  He hadn’t meant to say that, but some combination of stress and being on a roll with his little rant had forced it out of his mouth. He braced himself for Travis’s reaction. Construction guys like Travis were not the most open-minded folks, in Brandon’s experience, and there was no way to know if he’d be okay with hearing another man confess his attraction.

  But Travis just stared at him, unblinking. “You… what?”

  “I didn’t mean to confess that, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I walked into the house today.”

  “You…. Jesus. Well, why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “What?”

  Suddenly Travis’s lips were against Brandon’s. Brandon hadn’t expected this. A slap, a punch, but not a kiss. But Travis tasted delicious, and his lips were hot and wet, and Brandon finally got his hands in all that honey-colored hair on Travis’s head as he sank into the kiss.

  Then there was a noise downstairs. Travis pulled away suddenly.

  “Good Lord,” said Brandon.

  “Hi, I’m gay, by the way.”

  Brandon couldn’t believe the last thirty seconds had happened, but apparently they had, because Travis’s face was flushed and his lips looked swollen. Not to mention, Brandon could feel a bit of the burn from Travis’s beard on his own face. “Well, there you go.”

  “Making out on set is probably not the smartest thing we do today.”

  And before Brandon’s brain could get anywhere near formulating a response, Ismael called out, “Hey, Travis!”

  Then Travis was gone, cutting through the kitchen, probably headed for the basement door.

  Brandon just stood in the middle of the room, dazed.

  WELL, FUCK. Brandon Chase was bisexual. Who knew?

  Travis zipped out of the room and toward the sound of Ismael’s voice. “What’s up, Iz?”

  “Need your input on something.”

  Conscious of the fact that the cameras were downstairs, Travis took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face, hoping he didn’t look too much like he’d just made out with the boss. Not that Brandon was his boss; technically, Travis was employed by the Restoration Channel. But still. Travis couldn’t get his head around this. Brandon was attracted to Travis, and Travis had kissed him, which was reckless and unprofessional.

  He took another deep breath and descended the staircase.

  It turned out Ismael just wanted to confirm the plan before any concrete was poured, so once Travis was a free agent again, he went back upstairs to finish the fireplace. Brandon was nowhere in sight—Travis wasn’t even sure he was even still in the house—so he picked up his chisel and got back to work.

  The problem with a monotonous project like dismantling an old brick fireplace was that his mind wandered as he worked. Travis’s imagination was suddenly alive with possibilities. Most of those mental images involved more kissing, some nudity, and preferably a bed, although Travis also considered the logistics of finding a place in the house where they could make out without getting stabbed by a stray nail or being caught on camera. They hadn’t really done anything on the second floor yet, but he wasn’t sure he wanted his skin to touch that ancient carpeting. Maybe if they put down a drop cloth or something….

  He shook his head. This was a silly line of thinking. They had a job to do. If they hooked up and something went wrong, they’d still have to work together. With cameras around, no less. Or else Travis would get fired. Travis really liked this job and wanted to keep it.

  But the next time he saw Brandon, they’d have to have an awkward conversation, and he wasn’t really excited about that.

  The crew finished up in the basement for the day around the time Travis was finally through hauling the broken bricks out to the dumpster. Since nothing more could be done until the next day, the night crew hadn’t been scheduled. Travis said goodbye to Ismael and was about to leave, when Brandon came back, laden with shopping bags.

  He dropped the bags near the front door. “Hi, sorry. Kayla wanted me to pick up a bunch of design samples. Is it okay if I just leave all this here? These bags are flipping heavy.”

  “Yeah, the crew is gone for the day. I’m the last one here. Leave stuff anywhere you like, as long as it’s not somewhere Ismael will trip over it when he comes in tomorrow morning.”

  Brandon shoved everything toward the foot of the stairs. “How’d the rest of the day go? I see you finished the fireplace.”

  “Yeah. Everything was fine. The foundation repair is done. We have to give the concrete a little more time to dry before we do anything downstairs, but it’s all poured and leveled. The next steps all depend on what we decide to do for design—which walls are staying and what we’re doing to the floors, I mean.”

  “Good. Okay. Well, hopefully Kayla and I can iron out the design tomorrow, and then we’ll
be able to move forward.”

  “We’re over budget but not behind schedule yet.”

  Brandon nodded.

  Travis sensed Brandon would avoid the subject of their kiss unless Travis mentioned it. The easy thing would be to avoid it as well, but Travis wouldn’t be able to get it out of his mind until they hashed it out. They had to set some boundaries. Or something.

  “We should really talk about what happened today,” he said.

  “Are you hungry? Did you eat dinner?”

  “I haven’t eaten. I’d planned to grab some takeout on the way home.”

  “There’s a good Chinese place on Church. It’s a little on the fancy side, but the food is excellent.”

  Travis gestured at himself. The worn jeans and dust-covered T-shirt were not exactly dress-code appropriate. “My clothes are more storefront pizza than they are fancy sit-down restaurant.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Well, we could get something delivered here. Maybe sit on the floor and talk over dinner?”

  “I… all right.”

  Travis didn’t know what to do with himself while Brandon called the local pizza place. He pulled a roll of brown paper out of the closet and put some down on the floor so they wouldn’t get any grease or tomato sauce on the floor. When he finished, Brandon said, “They’re sending paper plates, and I asked for a couple of cans of soda.”

  “Worst case, we can pilfer from the craft services setup in the backyard.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, plates and stuff. Maybe some sodas. They take most of the food away when they leave each day, but they set up a tent back there with a little refrigerator and snacks for the night crew.”

  “This isn’t like a normal project, is it?”

  “In a lot of ways, it is. But there’s better food, and cameras follow me around.”

  Brandon chuckled.