How to Love Your Neighbour(11)

“You should hire a gardener. You’ll want to for the palms anyway,” she said, pointing to the other side of his property, where the overgrown trees blocked a lot of his beach view.

“I don’t need a gardener,” he said.

A small smile tilted her lips up. His jaw was granite, like his stance. Touchy subject? “Okay. Well, good luck.”

As she walked away—let’s face it, with no dignity, because falling in front of the same man twice in one day did not warrant such things—she felt his gaze.

“You know what? I think you’re right.”

Grace turned at the end of the fence, immediately suspicious. “I am.”

He huffed out a laugh, ran his hand through his damp hair. “I’m going to call someone and have them taken out completely. Better view that way.”

Now why did that sound like a thinly veiled threat?

“You want the view in the other direction. Toward the beach. Not my place.” She shrugged because if he thought it was a threat, he was wrong. She’d benefit from the view.

“Yeah but when I convince you to sell, the hedges have to go anyway.”

She shook her head. She didn’t grow up in circles where people were rolling in money. Most everyone she’d known was rolling in debt and bad choices. This guy didn’t wear his in slick suits—though she had no doubt he’d look good in one—but in his very essence. Polish. Confidence that bordered on ego. Things that didn’t impress someone who worked their ass off to get to this very point.

“Like I said, good luck.”

It wasn’t happening. She’d finally received a little piece of family—though the word was mostly foreign to her—and she wasn’t letting it go.

“Everyone has a price,” he called after her.

“Not me,” she called back, her earlier calm replaced by a restlessness that made her wish she had paint so she could start on the living room.

“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.