How to Love Your Neighbour(18)

Grace’s chest warmed. “You’re the best.”

“I’ve mentioned that before,” Rosie said.

Once she dropped her friend off at her apartment, Grace was itching to get home. She pulled into her driveway, surprised to see Noah outside, at the fence, on his knees. The sun was halfway to setting, casting gorgeous colors through the sky. Was he painting?

She got out of her vehicle, leaving her supplies in the back but grabbing her purse.

“Hey,” she said, approaching him. As soon as he looked up, she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. He had white paint across his probably very expensive T-shirt, on the underside of his jaw, all over his hands, and a bit on his jeans. She glanced at the fence. “Looks like you got some of that paint in the right place.”

His gaze narrowed and he set the brush he was holding down with a splat. More paint spattered onto the handle. “Laugh if you want. I thought I’d be done in a half hour. Instead, I’ve been at it for hours, I painted part of my backyard white, and I’ve already changed once.”

She bit her lip again. He was about halfway on his side. She crouched, picked up the wet rag he hadn’t used, and used two fingers to pick up the brush and clean it with the cloth.

“Is it your first time painting something outdoors?” He’d need to wash his hands or the handle would get covered again. She glanced at him when he remained silent, his lips pressed firmly together.

She set the brush down on the edge of the paint tray gently. “Wait. Is this your first time painting?”

“So?” The one word was filled with heat, and she would have gotten up and walked off, left him to his fence finger painting, but it was also easy to hear the fatigue and frustration.

She settled on her knees. “So, nothing. It was a question, not an accusation. Painting is harder than people think. It takes practice and something awkward like this isn’t the best start. Usually, people start with a big wall or something.”

He stared at her, and even though it made her heart jump around like an ADHD bunny, she held his gaze. “You fixed those slats in less time than it took me to reply to some emails.”

She offered a smile. “My mom wasn’t the best at household chores. We didn’t have money to get things fixed. I learned to . . . tinker.” And make do.

“I still own four properties in New York. I have several holdings here in California, including this house. I’m a little pissed off to learn I can’t paint a fence without looking like I poured a can of it over me.”

“I only own that house and my car. Both were gifted to me. Everyone has their skills.”

One half of his mouth tipped up. “Nice spin on it. I should clean up. Start over.”

“I could help you if you want.” The words popped out of her mouth before she remembered the shower, the wine, and the home-reno show. Plus her homework.

“Why would you?”

She stood, didn’t hide the eye roll. “God, you’re so skeptical.”

He stood as well, his gaze going between her and the fence before staying on Grace. “You were right about it not needing to be replaced. Kyle agreed with you. You were also right about the hedges.”

She looked toward the place where the hedges had been, pushing aside the reasoning he’d given her when he talked of removing them.

“Thanks for the view,” she said, inexplicably excited about a glass of wine on her back porch.

“I could pay you to finish the fence.”

Grace’s jaw dropped. She pulled herself together with a deep breath. “I don’t want your money. I said I’d help you. Maybe if you didn’t hire someone to do every little thing, you’d know how to do something as simple as paint.”

She started to walk away, thinking a walk on the beach, barefoot, might soothe her more than wine.

“Hey.”

She turned, met his irritated glare. “What?”

“You said painting was hard.”

“I lied to make you feel better,” she snapped.

Noah’s gaze widened. “You . . .” He broke off and surprised the hell out of her when a laugh burst free. He bent at the waist, messy hands leaving prints on his jeans. When he straightened, his features had softened with happiness. The sight of him stole her breath. Which also pissed her off.

“You lied to make me feel better.”

It wasn’t a question, so she nodded, pointed to the fence. “Smooth, even strokes back and forth. Pretty simple.”

His gaze heated, and Grace realized that her words could be . . . misconstrued. Her pulse sped up. With the laughter still visible in his gaze, the easy set of his jaw from his smile, he was more than just attractive. He was the kind of guy she’d pin on her “Dreams for another day” board on Pinterest. Liam Hemsworth coming out of the waves. Henry Cavill comfortable in his own skin. Noah Jansen, socialite and elitist. Don’t forget those parts, she told her wonky heart.

“The paint,” she said sharply. “You need to have enough on your brush but don’t let it drip.”

“Good advice,” he said. Was she imagining his voice had gone husky?

“Well, good night.”

“You said you’d help,” he reminded her.

She probably shouldn’t waste time on a guy who annoyed her as much as intrigued her, but she wanted to be a good neighbor. The truth was, she wanted to be a great everything. Student, designer, person, friend. Neighbor. Daughter. Some of those weren’t attainable, but maybe she could ease the tension that usually sat between them. Then, the next time she toppled over her fence, he wouldn’t try to make her pay for it.