“What?”
He pointed his fork at her. “I need something on you that ensures you never share that story.”
She made a face, trying to think of something good. Her childhood wasn’t built on funny moments. “I’m trying to think of something, I swear. But all I can think about is you laying down a sick beat.” She didn’t get all the words out before she snorted with laughter, making him laugh and toss a tortilla chip at her, which made her laugh harder.
“Tell me something.”
“Okay. Okay.” She took a few deep breaths, averting her gaze from his so she wouldn’t break into another fit of giggles.
Picking up another piece of naan, she dipped it in hummus. “Oh. I know. Okay, this isn’t something no one knows but the people who do have probably forgotten it because it was twenty years ago.”
“Give it up.”
“I went to a friend’s house for a sleepover once. That was always a big deal for me because I loved to imagine their homes were mine. Well, I was hanging with this slightly older girl, she was eleven to my mere ten. She invited a couple of twelve-year-old boys and a few other girls. She snuck them into her basement and suggested we play spin the bottle. I pretended I knew exactly what that entailed but when we sat in the circle and the bottle pointed to me, I had no idea what was going to happen. This boy, I can’t even remember his name, kissed me. It was more like he lip-smushed me. It was ridiculous.”
Noah was laughing but she held up a hand. “That’s not the funny party. I burst into tears and told them I wasn’t allowed to get married. I thought it was some sort of ceremony or something. I got teased for months until we moved. That was actually one of the moves I was happy about.”
“Jesus, you’re so cute.”
She glared at him. “I am not that girl anymore.” She waved her hand around the table. “I’m fully aware that none of this means we’re married.”
Noah pursed his lips. “Maybe not this but once we paint each other, I’m pretty sure we’ll be bound for eternity.”
Rolling her eyes, she finished sampling bits of everything while they shared stories of growing up. It was surprising to her, given how different their financial statuses were, how much they had in common. At their core, both of them were pleasers trying to outrun the shadows of their parents. Doing a pretty fine job of it, too.
When Noah tossed his napkin down, he stood, stretched, and reached out his hand for Grace’s.
“We’ll have dessert later. You ready?”
There were a lot of things Grace was ready for in this life. Noah Jansen was not one of them. But she slipped her hand in his, going up on tiptoes to kiss him. “Absolutely.”
Noah trailed behind her, his hands on her hips, down the hallway to the Sunset Room. The narrow hallway, painted a bright, fluorescent green, was hardly wide enough for one person.
“This one.” He reached around her, his hand and arm brushing against the skin of her biceps to turn the door knob. It could have been the wine or the company, but the touch felt more intimate with them standing this close.
The room had rubber mats, splattered walls, and a corner station with a sink that had several shelves above it containing paints. A small, metal, rolling trolley was set up with a variety of paints, brushes, and cloths.
Noah shut the door behind him and went to the trolley. “Everything we need is on here.” He turned, pointed to the two canvases that were far larger than she expected. One was nearly her height but narrow, while the other was a fat, perfect square. That would fit beautifully in the spot over the wrought-iron guest bed.
She pointed. “Are we painting our own or each other’s?”
He shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
“I want to paint that one for you. You paint that one for me.”
Noah’s mouth dropped open. “Okay. You know this is for fun, right? You’ve got your design face on and I can’t paint.”
Walking closer to him, she framed his face the way he’d framed hers earlier. “I don’t have a designing face.”
“You do.” He pointed at her face. “It’s on you right now.”
“If they suck, we won’t hang them, but if they’re cool, this canvas is the perfect size for your guest room.”
“Okay, well, fair warning, mine is going to be perfect for a dark closet.”
She patted his cheek. “Have some faith.”
“Fun. I wanted to have fun. Not faith.”
She just laughed, checking out the colors on the trolley. They worked together to choose colors. For his canvas, which she knew she’d treasure forever no matter how it turned out, he chose bright shades of purple, blue, pink, and yellow. For hers, which she hoped he’d hang in the spot she suggested, she chose every shade of blue available.
“What are we thinking? Go in slow and deliberate?” He picked up a brush like it had the potential to bite him.
“There’s nothing slow or deliberate about splatter paint. Let’s get messy,” she said, meeting his gaze.
He stared a second, then leaned in over the paint tray she held. “I don’t know how that’s hot but it is.”
She shook her head, surprised by how much fun she was having. “No peeking. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He worked on one wall while she worked against another. The sounds of paint splashing and sloshing against the surface were oddly soothing. About five minutes in, he called her name.
“No peeking.”
“I didn’t turn around.”
“What’s up?” She chose another blue, dabbed her brush in it.
“This is the best date I’ve ever been on.”
Fortunately, the sound of paint splattering the canvas covered the final drop of her heart. Right into Noah’s hands. She took a deep breath, her brush pausing in midair. In many cases, it was safer, and easier, to lean into a fall than try to avoid it. So, Grace let herself lean. Hard.
33
Noah turned on one of his Spotify playlists, which added the gentle beat of music to their painting sounds. It was oddly cathartic, whipping paint at a surface. Grace used a bigger brush to give the entire canvas a coat of pale blue before using the darker shades to create a variety of splatter marks. She kept most of her marks to the upper part of the canvas so she could create the illusion of water below. Her hope was that it looked like water and waves bursting from the sea. She’d use other brushes and possibly a sponge to add some texture to the bottom. She smiled, wondering how his was turning out.
“Two brothers and one sister. That’s a busy household,” she said over the music.
“It was, for sure. We’re really close together in ages. Our parents had us back-to-back.”
“How long have they been apart?” She heard him mixing something on one of the palettes.
“Mom left by the time I turned twelve. I’m surprised she stayed so long. The older we got, the more intense my father became. His life was about business and finding a trophy wife. We didn’t meet wife number three until they returned from a quickie wedding in Vegas. After her, it’s been just engagements. My mom made a smart choice. After my grandfather died, he changed. Not just as a person but his vision for the company.”
He said it all nonchalantly, but Grace knew from experience that parents leaving or failing in their roles left marks on a kid.
“You’re close to your mom?”
“I am. Not as close as Chris but we talk every couple weeks. Text every few days or so. How about you? You’re not close to your mom but do you talk to her at all?”
The paint hit the canvas with a little more energy. “Infrequently at best. A few texts here and there. She’s sent a couple letters recently but they’re just more of the same.”
“What’s that look like? The same?”
She grabbed a thick brush and coated it with a gorgeous, deep shade of blue. “Her needing money. Guilt trips for not being a better daughter. Complaining about how hard life is and that she has no one to take care of her. She can’t hold
a job but it’s never her fault. My mom’s sort of a ‘what can you do for me’ person.”
“You certainly didn’t turn out like her,” he said.
A strange, nearly painful, type of happiness bloomed inside of her. She turned without thinking, his simple words a solace she’d craved. Noah heard her and spun as well, pointing his thin-tipped paintbrush.
“Hey! We said no peeking!”
She stared at the vibrant colors decorating the canvas in big chunks. They crossed over one another, spreading out from the middle like a Skittles rainbow. It was so … happy.
Grace stepped forward. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to look but I worry so much about being like my mom, it was nice to hear that maybe I’m not. Now that I’m looking, I can’t unlook and it’s so pretty. I love it. It’s so happy.”
Noah set down his brush, walked closer to Grace, but stared straight ahead at the work she’d created.
“Is there anything you can’t do well?” He put his hands to his hips, studying the painting.
She had a whole list of things she couldn’t do at all, never mind well. But she liked the way he viewed her. It made her want to see herself that way.
“You like it?”
He turned to meet her gaze. “It’s beautiful. It feels alive. This is what that quote means. It’s the perfect quote to describe you.”
Grace’s features crinkled. “What quote?”
“The one you were looking at out front. It’s what you make others see. You make me see things I never imagined, Grace.”
She sucked in a breath, overwhelmed by the emotion in his gaze. This was the kind of moment that could change a person. Depending on what action she took, she’d look back at these seconds as the ones that determined her path with Noah. All in one hundred percent, take no prisoners, leave me the tattered remains of my heart when you go. Or door number two: Let’s have some fun, tread lightly on each other’s emotions, remember me fondly when we part.
When he didn’t make a move, she went for door number two. Lifting her hand, she painted a strip of dark blue all the way down the front of his shirt. His jaw dropped, almost in slow motion, then he looked down.
Grace bit her lip to keep from giggling. When his gaze met hers again, she was pretty sure he could see right through her expression, so she offered, “Oops?”
“Really? ‘Oops’?”
“My bad?” She smiled, took a step back as he took one forward.
“Oh, Grace.”
She knew she should be worried by the gleam in his eye, the purpose in his step, and the fact that he’d grown up with siblings so he surpassed her abilities in this area. Instead, worry and intensity fled, leaving her with a bubbly joyous feeling. She sprinted around the tray station, squealing when he didn’t even chase her but instead went the other way, cutting her off. The music switched to a heavier tempo as she all but crashed into his chest. He slipped the brush from her hand with an ease she didn’t have time to admire.
Squirming to get away from the brush, she arched her back over his forearm, which was wrapped around her body.
“Where you going, Gracie?” The brush dabbed her nose. “Oops.”
She laughed even as she reached out her arm to slide her fingers through the palette he’d left on the trolley. She swiped a blur of colors down his cheek.
“Back at you.”
Noah dropped the brush, pressed his hand into a tray of paints, and cupped her cheek. “You’re so cute,” he said, his eyes wide with mischief while his grip squeezed her cheek, making her laugh harder.
Grace turned in his arms, reached out to pick up a tray that had smears of red, orange, and yellow. Noah tightened his grip so she was basically back to his front but curled over. Her ribs hurt from the position combined with the uncontrollable laughter.
“Don’t do it, Grace. Call a truce.”
“Okay,” she said, breathing heavily.
His grip tightened. “For real?”
“Yes. Yes. Truce. Here, see?” she said, setting down the supplies.
Noah loosened his grip by degrees. Grace turned in one quick motion, grabbed the bottle of red that he’d left open, and pressed the plastic so a stream of paint shot all over his T-shirt.
When she went to run, she slipped on the rubber mat, dropping the paint.
“Shit, are you okay?” Noah came down after her, realized she was army-crawling to the paint, grabbed her leg, and yanked her closer. “No, you don’t.”
His longer arms won out, letting him snag the bottle. He rolled them, half pinning her under his large, sexy, slightly sweaty, definitely messy frame.
“Oh. What have we here?” He grinned like the damn Cheshire cat, holding the bottle above her head.
“You wouldn’t. Remember, you know how to treat a girl,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically.
“That’s true. Treat her like she treats you,” he said, squirting out a blob of paint onto her chin. “You got something right there.”
Her giggles returned with a vengeance. “Stop. Truce.”
“Now, how can I believe you?”
“I swear.” She only laughed harder.
“Say ‘Noah is the sexiest man I’ve ever met,’” he said.
She met his gaze, tried to say the words but got only to the second one before a fit of laughter cut in.
“That doesn’t sound like what I said.” He squeezed a drop onto her forehead.
Grace scrunched her eyes together. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it.”
She kept her eyes shut until she heard him say, “I’m waiting.”
She held back the laughter but couldn’t erase the smile. “Noah is the sexiest man I’ve ever met.” He had no idea how true that was, but she wasn’t about to share.
“‘He’s a painting master and I’ve learned a great deal from him,’” he continued.
Grace snorted, taking advantage of the way his body relaxed. With one hand, she knocked the bottle across the mat while rolling so he was pinned under her. She held both his arms down, knowing full well he could dislodge her with little more than a deep breath.
“Now who’s in charge?” She gave him her best menacing stare.
“It’s been you the whole time.”
Her heart smiled at his words. “Say ‘Grace is the boss of everything, she’s all-knowing and sexier than any woman I’ll ever meet.’”
Humoring her, he nodded. “All true. Grace is the boss, she’s all-knowing, and I’ve never met, nor will I meet, anyone sexier.”
Ha. She started to slide off his body before she attacked him with more than paint but he moved his arms, capturing her waist. “Not so fast,” he whispered, his voice going husky.
She gave in to the kiss, letting her body meld into his while his hands roamed up and down. The swells of music and the scent of paint faded into oblivion as Grace memorized the taste and feel of him.
When he rolled, bringing her under him again, he brushed her hair back from her forehead. “You’re pretty messy.”
She reached up, cupping his paint-covered cheek. “So are you.”
“We should go.”
“That wasn’t where my mind was headed,” she said honestly.
Desire flashed in his eyes. “As much as I want you, Grace—”
When he paused, embarrassment surfaced. Here she was throwing herself at the man. It wasn’t like he was hard up, and here she—
He cut her off, clearing his throat. “There are just some places a man doesn’t want to get paint.”
Grace’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she envisioned Noah covered head to toe in paint. “Good point.” Maybe her voice was a little huskier than she’d intended but it was tinged with amusement as well. “I think you’d look good with a blue ass.”
He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Flatterer.”
She started to get up, but he pulled her onto his lap as they sat up. “What would you say to heading home? We could shower, have dessert there?”
She wasn’t sur
e if dessert was code for what she wanted, but she figured she won either way. She got either Noah or sugar—or, best-case scenario, both.
34
Noah dropped Grace off at her house so they could each clean up and grab fresh clothing. As he showered off a rainbow of paint, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun with a woman. And that painting. It was gorgeous. He couldn’t wait to hang it exactly where she’d suggested.
He’d finished his shower, changed, and set out a selection of bite-size cakes from Baked. When she knocked on his door, his stomach and heart actually clenched like they’d both been given a hard hug. This woman had the potential to wreck him. He’d surpassed the point of this just being for fun.
Opening the door, he found Grace in a pair of thin, checkered pajama pants and a sleep top that said BUT FIRST, COFFEE.
She shrugged. “I figured there was no point in dressing up.”
Why that turned him on more than if she’d shown up in lingerie, he couldn’t be entirely certain, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with Grace being exactly what she was: herself. She didn’t put on a show, try to be something she wasn’t. She didn’t expect him to be anything other than who he was. It was damn refreshing and sexy as hell.
Reaching out, he took her wrist, pulling their bodies together. He forgot to ease them into the kiss. As her hands roamed over his chest, he drowned in the feel of her, the scent of her shampoo and her still slightly damp hair.
When he boosted her up, her arms and legs locked around him without hesitation. She pulled back as he shut the door with his foot.
Looking down at him, she ran her hands through his still-wet hair. “Guess you like my jammies.”
He kissed a path up one side of her throat, reveling in the way she arched for him, then down the other. “I like you, Grace. Everything about you.”
Their mouths met again and there were no more words.
* * *
Noah stretched out on his bed, his arm moving to the other side, which turned out to be empty. In the dark quiet of the room, he blinked a few times. They’d fallen asleep wrapped up in each other. In his life, Noah had never felt the connection he did with Grace. It got better each time and it wasn’t just physical. It transcended his expectations and, if he was being honest with himself, shook him to his core. Because when it was more than physical, lives changed, concessions were made, hearts got broken like promises.
How to Love Your Neighbor Page 22
