Chapter 7
IN THREE, TWO—
Scottie
When I pull into the driveway, vans and cars line the road leading to the property. The film crew is busy setting up cameras and standing in small huddles, discussing whatever they need to.
My eyes scan the land, trying to take everything in.
People are scattered everywhere. Cables run through the overgrown grass like veins through the heart of chaos.
The land isn’t a quiet oasis anymore. It’s more like a living machine where every sound is competing for attention.
The buzz of the generators, the radios crackling as people talk into them, and everyone moving with hurried purpose.
My nerves spike as I take it all in.
You’re in over your head, Scottie.
What the hell were you thinking, taking this project on for national TV?
I hate that my mom’s voice is in my head right now.
I’ve been in front of a camera before at my house for tutorials and livestreams, but this is so much different. This feels bigger. Louder.
“Scottie!” a voice cuts through the commotion.
Andrea’s making her way to where I’m rooted at the top of the gravel driveway with a clipboard tucked under her arm and a coffee in each hand.
She looks composed, which must be a requirement in television because how can she be this calm in the chaos. “Ready for your close up?”
“Define ready?” I say, forcing a smile I hope looks steadier than it feels.
She giggles. “This is perfect. Stay just like that—charming and terrified. It looks great for the camera.”
She hands me one of the coffees in her hand and I take it despite having one with my muffin on my way over here.
She adjusts the clipboard in her now free hand before guiding us toward the porch.
I follow her, looking past her at the old house standing quiet and still, waiting for the first hammer to break the silence.
My next big project.
My everything or nothing moment.
“Okay,” Andrea says, flipping through papers on her clipboard, before she does a double take over my shoulder. “Oh, good. Tucker is here, too.”
I turn around to look over my shoulder and find him already staring at me.
He’s leaning against the side of a work truck in worn boots, dark jeans, and a gray fitted T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders.
His tool belt sits low on his hips, and he looks exactly like you’d picture a small town contractor to look when showing up to work.
God, he looks good.
When I texted Andrea that we would go forward with the fake relationship subplot she had pitched, she was ecstatic.
I still can’t stop overthinking what we’re doing here.
Even though we agreed not to blur the lines, I’m terrified he’s going to try to cross all of them.
The longer I stare at him, the more I have to remind myself that it’s just for the cameras. Nothing more.
He starts walking toward us like he owns the ground, and I instinctively grip my cup tighter.
The world seems to slow down the closer he gets, like the air thickens around us to mess with me.
My stomach does a flip, and I hate that it does.
I shouldn’t feel anything when it comes to him.
But every time he’s close, I have the unsettling thought that rebuilding this home might not be my biggest concern.
He stops in front of me and smiles. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I say back, my words softer than I intended them to be. Like he’s sucked all the air from my lungs just standing here.
“All right, lovebirds,” Andrea says in a playful tone and we both turn to face her.
“For the intro episode, we’ll introduce both of you before filming a thorough walk through of the home.
You can also give us a sense of what you see in each room as we go and give the viewers something to look forward to. ”
Tucker shifts next to me, crossing his arms over his chest and listening to every word.
I nod. “Got it.”
“Make them fall in love with you early on. Big chemistry, and maybe a little playful arguing. Viewers eat that up.”
“We can make that work,” Tucker says first. “But the main focus will remain on the house and its story, right?”
My knees nearly give out on me with his question. We just started, and he immediately remembered my worries about how the fake relationship in front of the cameras would take away from the house. And here he is asking the question I was too afraid to ask myself.
“Yes. Of course,” Andrea says quickly. “But if the viewers fall in love with you, it’ll be great for the ratings.”
Tucker doesn’t reply, and I look from Andrea to him. His eyes are fixed on her as she looks down at her clipboard. He looks as if he’s assessing her motives and searching for something he can’t seem to place in her.
He turns his body to face me, his gaze finally leaving Andrea. “So, what’s the plan, boss?” he asks quietly. “Are you walking them through first, or do you want me to stay in the background until you call me in?”
The word boss shouldn’t do anything to me.
But it does.
I straighten my spine. “I’ll start the introduction to the house out here. Once we get inside for the walk through, I’ll bring you in. Structural, load bearing walls…you know, all the things I’m not allowed to pretend I know so you have your part in this.”
His mouth curves into a grin. “I appreciate your commitment to honesty.”
Andrea claps her hands once. “Perfect. That’s exactly what we want. Easy and natural.”
Tucker grins to the side of me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, you’ll still get arguing though. She’s got plenty of experience pretending to like me. Should be easy.”
“I don’t pretend,” I say sweetly. “I just work really well with difficult material.”
“I’m, uh, going to let the film crew know you’re ready and we can start rolling in a few,” Andrea says, giving us a quick, approving look before walking away.
The moment she’s gone the space feels different.
Like we’re trapped in a bubble and the rest of the world faded back a step.
“So,” I say, breaking the silence between us. “Is your crew here?”
“Nope.”
“Don’t you need to wrangle them up or something?”
He glances down at me with a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “I’m good right here.”
There’s something in his voice that makes me feel fully at ease. As if my body knew I wasn’t before and just hearing that solidified it for me. He studies me for a second, my grip tightening around the cup in my hand. Instinctively, I roll my shoulders like I’m trying to shake something loose.
“Are you nervous?”
“A little,” I admit. “It…feels weird.”
“How so?”
I don’t answer back right away, because my thoughts can’t even be put into words. When I look at this house, all it is to me is a project. My one opportunity to catapult me into something more and be taken seriously.
Reality is, it’s more than that.
I’ve been here before—spent time here before.
This house is part of a family I don’t remember.
But I can’t tell him all that.
Not yet.
“It feels different when it’s not just me and a tripod with my phone,” I continue.
He studies me for a moment, and this time his features soften. There’s an understanding in his eyes that wasn’t there before, despite barely knowing me. “You’ll do amazing,” he says with certainty.
I feel the heat creep up my neck at the confidence he sees in me and avert my gaze to avoid letting him see.
Deep down, under the voices telling me I can’t, I know I can do this.
I know I have what it takes, even if the house is worse than anything I’ve worked on.
Even if the deadline is so tight. I have to believe I can do this.
Andrea jogs up to us with a few crew members trailing behind her. “Ready?” she asks, her tone chipper and excited.
I look up to Tucker and he’s already smiling at me. “She’s ready,” he answers for me.
“Perfect.” Andrea claps. “Let’s start out here with just Scottie. And before we go inside, we can set up on the porch and introduce Tucker. Does that sound like a good plan?”
I nod in agreement.
Tucker raises a pointer finger in the air like he’s in class and has a question. Andrea chuckles and waves a hand for him to ask. “So…like, what am I saying?” he asks, looking around. “Is there a screen with a script for me? Or whatever you call those things?”
“A teleprompter?” Andrea confirms.
He snaps his fingers and points to her. “That’s the one.”
“They’re a bit of a pain to carry around the renovation sites so we’ve always gone without one,” Andrea says with an easy shrug. “Will that be a problem?”
Tucker opens his mouth to answer, but stops. His jaw tightens, and he rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flick once toward the camera crew.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, I feel my palm burn through his fitted T-shirt, and offer him the same confidence he offered me moments ago. “He’s got this.”
“That’s the spirit.”
She waves over two crew members, who clip a mic pack to the back of my jeans before discreetly placing the mic inside my blouse. Closing my eyes, I inhale and exhale a calming breath while straightening my spine. I allow myself to exude the confidence I know I have deep down.
The camera operator takes their position, pressing a button and adjusting the camera toward me. “In three, two—” He points at me, and a little red light blinks on.
Showtime.
“Hi, I’m Scottie Monroe, and welcome to Nailed It or Failed It.
” I smile, probably a little too wide. “This season, we’re taking on a home that’s not just another project to me.
This one is personal.” I turn, angling my body to face the home.
“This house belonged to my grandparents. It’s filled with memories and the kind of charm you can’t buy in a store.
” I face the camera again. “But it’s also…
well, let’s just say it’s seen better days. ”
Nervous laughter escapes my lips, and when my eyes do a double-take, I spot Tucker behind the camera. There’s enough distance between us that he’s not hovering, but just enough that he can hear. His arms are crossed over his chest, muscles popping as he stands there tall and strong.
When the corner of his lip twists into a lopsided grin and he offers me a slight nod, I feel a calm wash over me as if his mere presence is what I need to get through this.
I prepared all night for what I’d say today, but the longer I stare at Tucker, the more everything I rehearsed goes out the window.
I avert my gaze to look back at the house.
“My goal is to honor what was, while creating something new. This project won’t just be about making it look good on the outside, but also about making it feel whole again.
A place to fill with memories,” I say, swallowing as I remember Tucker’s words from the night we met.
“When I think of this house, I’d love to see it shine again.
To bring it back to life. I want this house to represent second chances.
Every wall we rebuild, every color we choose…
it’s about reminding ourselves that broken and weathered things can still be made beautiful again,” I say, facing the camera again.
And this time, Tucker isn’t standing behind it.
We wrap up this first part, and as I turn to make my way to the front porch, I find Tucker again, standing off to the side leaning against his work truck, watching from a distance now. Our eyes meet, but it’s hard to read what he’s thinking.
Then…just the corner of his lips twists up in that lopsided grin again.
Just when I was starting to breathe again, he has to go and look at me like that.
Keep it together, Scottie.
No distractions.
No feelings.
I almost laugh to myself at how easily I believe my own rules.