“We’ll see,” he called back.
Grace ignored him, went into the house and grabbed her keys, her purse, and headed for her car. Paint. This agitation she felt could be rolled out as easily as a feature wall.
Before pulling out of the driveway, she checked her phone to see if John had replied about his son. He had. But there was another text.
Tammy
Why don’t you ever text me back?
I need to borrow some money.
I’ll pay you back.
Not much.
I could always borrow some from the guy I’m seeing. Enough to buy a bus ticket your way.
Grace was surprised her jaw didn’t crack from how hard she clenched her teeth. She sighed, closed her eyes briefly. Why couldn’t she just tell her mom to go get lost? Part guilt, part useless hope that she’d change, part certainty that the woman would do as she pleased.
Grace
I don’t get paid for another week.
Tammy
I can wait that long.
Grace sighed, leaning her head against the seat. Shit. Tammy did that often—threatened to come live closer. Grace had worked most of her life for two things: to get away from her mom and to not turn out like her. Now that she was in the house her mother had grown up in—the one she’d run from at sixteen—Grace was even more determined not to let the woman tarnish the life she wanted to build. She thought about the three hundred dollars Mrs. Kern had paid her in advance.
Grace
I have $200. That’s it. You can’t keep doing this.
Tammy
This is what family does. Thanks.
xoxo
“Family.” Their definition of the word was vastly different. Grace wanted to toss her phone but reminded herself she couldn’t afford a new one. She set it on the passenger seat, started the car, and backed out of the driveway. The earlier satisfaction she’d felt, the sense of home she’d wanted to lap up as she walked through the rooms, had disappeared. So much for porch swings. Silver linings, Grace. You have enough for paint. Grace had been making the best of things her entire life. She wasn’t about to stop now just because of a grumpy neighbor and a selfish parent. There was always a silver lining. The paint store being open despite the hour was hers for today.
5
Noah leaned against the upstairs wall, keeping his body angled so he could see out the window but wouldn’t be noticed. Grace was mowing her lawn. She had headphones on and a smile so wide he could see it from his second floor. Who smiled while doing yard work? He sure as hell hadn’t felt like smiling while he was trying to grapple with the stupid hedges the other night. Well, not until she fell ass over head across the fence. Once he knew she was okay, he’d still bit back the laughter. He wasn’t sure if she was clumsy or just unlucky.
Whatever she was, the old guy was right. She was stubborn as hell. He’d seen her twice in passing the last two days. Once, the next day, when she’d simply waved on her way in from her car, and then last night while he was making use of the freestanding basketball hoop he’d had shipped to his place. She’d watched him for a few minutes from the front porch after washing windows. The woman had more energy than those dogs she walked, which he’d also seen her doing at the crack of dawn this morning.
A tiny little piece of him admired her grit—he had some of his own, coming to the surface more in the last week than he’d felt in a while. Thrill of the chase. Glancing at his watch, he saw he had a bit more time before he needed to head out to the rec center. Plus, closing a deal that took no effort wasn’t any fun. Since moving to California, he’d purchased a couple of corporate properties that were fully leased out. They were moneymakers and didn’t need him. He and his brothers owned a few other companies, but Noah was eager to do something completely on his own. This house was just the start.
His phone buzzed. Moving away from the window, he swiped his thumb across to answer.
“Hey,” he said to Wes.
“Hey, back. How’s it going?”
Noah shrugged, even though his brother couldn’t see him. “Fine. The house next door? Someone moved in.”
“Someone like an owner?”
Forcing himself not to look back out the window, he walked toward the master bedroom. He didn’t have much furniture, but he’d bought a kick-ass California king bed. Sitting down on it now, he rolled his shoulders. “Inherited, I think.”
“So, now you can make an offer face-to-face.”
Straight to the point. That was Wes. The thoughtful, optimistic one. Chris was analytical, serious. Noah was the fun one. The fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants, carefree one. Supposedly. No one knew how much thought, planning, and work went into choosing his deals, seeing them through, and fighting for what he wanted. Not much of that was carefree. He just didn’t bitch about it. They had a sister as well, but Ari was in a world all her own. She was the princess of the family, not held to the same expectations as the others. Which was likely why she was the only one who could put up with their father.
“Already did. She dug her heels in but from what I can tell, she’s a paycheck-to-paycheck girl. Once she sees how much work owning a total fixer-upper is, she might change her mind. Pretty sure her roof needs to be redone. Her siding is shot. That’s just the outside.” She had a hell of a yard, though. He could picture a pool, cabana, maybe a small guesthouse for his mother when she was stateside. He could see himself flipping burgers while his brothers hung out, conversation and laughter surrounding him. Like when Gramps was alive.
“Maybe you have enough to focus on just with your place.”
Noah gripped the phone, smoothing out his frown. “I am. I’m focusing on making that part of it. You wait, man, it’s going to be awesome. Remember when Gramps used to rent out that property upstate? We’d all hang out and swim, eat until we couldn’t breathe?”
He heard Wes’s sigh in the background. “Of course I remember. I loved those summers. Before everything went to shit.” His brother laughed, but it didn’t feel funny. “You okay, man?”
“Just lots on my mind. Lots to do. We need to have a meeting about the corporate acquisitions I just made for Squishy Cat.” Their youngest brother had named their company. “Demo crew is coming tomorrow. We’re taking the wall down between the living room and kitchen. Open it up. I’m trying to get ahold of some press contacts, see if I can get a spotlight on this which will build my credibility out here. Maybe back East, too, since I heard Dad’s trashing me.”
“Ignore that. It’s a tantrum. He’ll get over it. He knows he lost a huge moneymaker when you said you weren’t coming back.”
“Well then, he should have let me actually do something while I was there.”
“I know. So? You’re going to swing a hammer on this one?”
Irritation bubbled inside of him. His brothers liked to give him a hard time, but he worked his ass off. Maybe he didn’t literally sweat when he was making a buck, but neither did they. “It’ll be a good way to get my aggression out seeing as beating up you or Chris would be like picking on a toddler.”
Wes chuckled. “Whatever, man. You’re all talk.”
Not this time. This time, he was all action. From start to finish. He was hiring people because he knew his limits, but he was all in on this one. He was going to grow old here while he built an empire around him and showed his dad, himself, that he could stick. That he could succeed without any hand-holding. Like his grandfather, he’d build a legacy of his own. One day, maybe he’d have a son and that kid wouldn’t rip apart his work piece by piece while simultaneously destroying his family.
He rolled his shoulders again, rose from the bed. He needed to get going.
“I gotta go. I’m meeting up with Rob. Then I have some landscapers coming to rip out the hedges between our yards.” He hadn’t told his brothers about the kids or the three-on-three tournament. He wasn’t sure why.
“That’s a nice gesture,” Wes said.
Noah glanced out his bedroom window at
the crooked freaking hedging. “They’re a nightmare, man. It’s a necessity.”
“Maybe, but it might look like an olive branch to the owner next door. You know what they say, good fences make good neighbors.”
An idea sparked quick in his head, making Noah smile. “Fences. Yeah. They do say that, don’t they? Talk soon, bro.”
He hung up, got ready to go out, and left the house, heading toward Grace’s front door.
When she answered, his brain went momentarily blank. Sweaty tendrils of hair stuck to her forehead. Her tank top was damp and she held a glass of something ice cold in her hand. She looked tired but happy. Weird. He hadn’t felt happy trimming the hedges. Nor had he felt any great thrill pulling out the mower last week.
“Hey, neighbor,” she said, taking a long drink.
His brain fritzed as he watched a droplet of water fall from the glass onto her skin. Jesus. Focus, man. “Hey. I’m just headed out.”
She lowered the glass. “Big meeting?” Her smile was cheeky.
He didn’t smile. It would be false advertising, and he knew she was joking, since he was in gym shorts. “I’ve got someone coming to fix the fence. I was thinking in addition to reinforcing it, it should be repainted.”
Her pretty brown eyes smiled innocently. “Okay.”
Good fences might make good neighbors, but broken ones—especially those broken by an adorable and stubborn woman—cost money. Money he was betting she didn’t have.
“You want a say in the repairs and repainting? I was thinking white again because it goes with the trim of my place. But I didn’t know what you had planned for yours.”
The softening of her gaze, the way her lips turned up in a sweet smile snagged at his conscience. “That’s sweet of you to ask. White is great.”
His pushed his conscience back and made the next move. That’s all this is. A series of moves to close the deal. Feelings, including guilt because of a damn smile, don’t rate.
“I’m not sweet, Grace. It’s the fair thing to do since you’re paying half.”
The glass in her hand nearly slipped. “What?”
Steeling himself against responding to the stricken look on her face, he kept his expression neutral. “The fence is shared. I’ll let you know the final price. I gotta run. Your yard looks good.”
He turned and hurried down the steps, not waiting for her to recover from the surprise. That should give her a nudge in the right direction. Namely, out. People thought the idea of fixing up a house was fun, like they saw on TV. The truth was, it could cost a fortune. More than once, he’d seen people burn through their savings and come out of the purchase more in debt than ever. It wasn’t a game. It was a business. Even when it was personal.
6
Saturday nights at the coffeehouse turned into a Nashville-style open mic. Poets, grifters, and seriously talented people stopped by, grabbed the house special—a vanilla-caramel chia tea—and listened to others pour their hearts and songs out. It was usually pretty cool, sometimes painful. Hugo had begged her to take his shift, plying her with promises of taking any shift she ever needed him to. He knew she never bailed on a shift, though, so he wouldn’t have to pay up. Besides, her Saturday nights usually consisted of textbooks and design software. Ellie kept the place open until midnight, which wasn’t an unholy hour.
By the time she’d arrived home, taken some time to decompress and tweak a couple of design ideas she had for a project she was almost finished with, then showered off the smell of coffee, it had been almost two, and she’d fallen into bed.
At which point, she’d stared at the ceiling, willing herself to think about designs, paint colors, and floor plans. Instead, she’d thought about how Noah Jansen was two people. His first persona was a hot, charming surfer dude with a laugh that stuck in a girl’s dreams. The second was a stubborn, entitled elitist who got what he wanted one way or another. She’d finally fallen asleep dreaming about fences piled high with money.
She woke Sunday morning with less vigor than usual listening for the sound that woke her up. She groaned, sat up as she heard it again—a loud, awful whir of a noise.
What the actual hell is that? Not worrying about the fact that she was dressed in sleep shorts and an oversize 49ers T-shirt, she stormed out of the bedroom. In bare feet, with a deep scowl and some serious bedhead, Grace kept going, through the house, out the door, and to the fence.
Several work trucks bearing contractor names were parked in Noah’s driveway. Guys in jeans, T-shirts, and baseball caps littered his yard, music playing loudly from someone’s speaker. Some guy was pressure-washing the side of the house, which would be the racket that woke her up.
Since no one would hear her if she yelled, she picked up a rock and tossed it near the spot where Noah chatted amiably, like it was a decent hour in the day, with a couple of other guys. He turned when the rock landed near his running shoe.
God. He had absolutely no right to look sexy in running gear at this time in the morning when she woke up like a bear two weeks early from hibernation. He left the guys he was talking to and sauntered over, amusement etched on his stupid-gorgeous features.
“Trying to break something else of mine?” One side of his mouth quirked up even as he tipped his chin down.
Grace clenched her fingers into fists at her sides and tried to push her temper down. “Why are you making this much noise at this hour on a Sunday?”
Noah had the nerve to laugh. “Wow. You do not wake up friendly.”
She pointed to the pressure-washing dude and gestured to the others, who were looking their way. “Not when I’m woken by a herd of steel-toe-booted elephants, blasting music and water when I’ve worked all night.” Okay, slight exaggeration. She tended to wake up on the grumpy side anyway, but he wasn’t helping.
“All night? Pretty sure I heard your car roll in just after midnight.” He leaned closer, his gaze more intense. “What kept you up all night, Gracie?”
You. Wondering where I’m going to get the money to paint my half of the fence. She poked the air, just short of jabbing him in the chest. “It is too early for all of this. There are laws against this sort of thing. Plus, it’s unneighborly.”
There. That ought to put him in his place. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Correct. Bylaws that state I can make noise after eight on a Sunday.” He looked at his fancy watch, then back at Grace. “It’s almost ten. Speaking of being unneighborly, are you always this grumpy in the morning?”
Her retort died in her mouth. No. Not to this extent. “I need coffee.”
Without a word, Noah turned on his heel and walked away. Disappearing behind a truck, he was back in under a minute with a white to-go cup bearing her favorite logo. Yeah, yeah, she craved the competition. What Ellie didn’t know about wouldn’t hurt her.
Noah handed her the coffee. “Untouched. It’s mine. One of the guys brought it. There’s cream and sugar in it. Maybe not the way you take it but consider it a peace offering.”
The stiffness went out of her stance, her lungs deflating, as her pulse did a double beat. Which Noah is this? Please don’t have a third persona. It’s too hard to keep up. “You don’t have to do that.” The fact that they took their coffee the same way did not mean anything.
“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to. Take it,” he said, smiling as he extended his arm.
A peace offering. Did that mean he was willing to negotiate on the timing of the fence painting and repair? Grace took the drink, brought it to her lips, taking a generous sip while telling herself the actual glow inside of her was from the sweet taste in her mouth, not the way Noah’s fingers brushed her own.
“Hmm,” Noah said, leaning a hip against the fence.
With both hands around the warm cup, she glanced at him through lowered lashes. “Hmm, what?”
“Just making mental notes. The way to calm Gracie in the morning is coffee. Noted.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Grace.”
“
Grace before coffee but Gracie after. Your whole body softened with your first sip.”
Holy hell, she did not need this man noticing anything about her body. That didn’t stop the full-body awareness his voice prompted. The noise carried on behind him, and even though the guys were working, she felt their not-so-subtle glances.
But while he was being so amenable and friendly … “Thank you for the coffee. I appreciate it. Sorry for being so grumpy.”
“No worries.”
She couldn’t shake the feeling he was placating her, and she didn’t like it. “About the fence.”
His brows rose, and he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to have my carpenter look at it. He’ll give me an estimate.”
Grace was more than a little intrigued by all the people and what changes he was making to the house and property. Keeping her focus, she walked around the fence, to his side, to the spot where she’d busted the wood.
She crouched, looked at it. “It just needs two slats replaced. I could do that myself. A little paint, it would be fine. Doesn’t mean we have to redo the whole thing.”
Noah wandered over, crouched beside her. She took a drink of coffee so she didn’t inhale the scent of his cologne or soap or whatever made him smell like the ocean at night.
“It’s old. It needs to be fixed.”
Grace stood. “Perhaps, but it doesn’t need to be right now.”
Noah stood. She wished she were taller so she didn’t have to tip her head back.
“You damaged my property. I don’t think it’s crossing a line to want it fixed.” His tone was equal parts reasonable and authoritative.
Grace’s grip on the cup tightened. “I’m offering to fix it. One portion was damaged. That doesn’t mean I should have to foot the bill for a paint job on the whole thing.”
“Half. Half the bill.”
The more reasonable his tone, the more irritated she became. “You have more than enough happening right now. I just moved in. I need a bit of time. Let me fix it myself and in a couple weeks, I’ll get some paint and take care of both sides.”
How to Love Your Neighbor Page 4
