How to Love Your Neighbour(35)

Washing the counter, he replied, “Yeah. I’ve narrowed it down to three. They’ll come see the space, give me some ideas, and I’ll be able to choose the one that fits what I’m imagining.” He eyed the sketches Grace left. He’d need to return her sketch book. He wondered if she realized she’d left it. She was really good. It was too bad she was still a student. Not that she’d want to work with him anyway. Not now. Plus, he wanted to be in that magazine, and that meant big-ticket names.

He blurted out his question before he lost his nerve. “What’s the best way to apologize to a woman?” Noah asked, squirting soap into the stream of warm water.

“What’d I do?”

“Hurt her feelings.” Even saying it, never mind imagining the look in her eyes, made him feel like he could be sick.

“Hmm. Dick move.”

Noah bit back his growl. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

“This is going to sound radical but if you’re serious . . .” Josh said.

Noah stiffened, stared at his phone. “I am.” He held his breath.

“You look her right in the eyes and you say, ‘I’m sorry,’ ” Josh said, his voice cracking with laughter at the end.

“Why do I pay you again?” Noah asked, but his lips were twitching with amusement.

“To answer weird-ass calls at all times of the day.”

“I was thinking a bracelet or something. My dad always bought women jewelry.” He had an account at Tiffany’s just for apologies.

“Unless you’re in a serious relationship or you broke her bracelet, I would not go that route.”

Could it be as simple as saying, “I’m sorry. I was insensitive”? That didn’t seem like enough.

“Okay. Thanks.” Noah turned off the water.

“No problem. Funny, though. You’ve got this reputation as a ladies’ man but you’re asking for advice.”

“Well, that reputation is mostly bullshit. I hit any event with a woman, no matter who it is, and some tabloid says I’m marrying her. Fortunately, my brothers and I don’t make much of a splash in the New York society pages anymore. My sister is still pretty good at it, though.”

She could have it. That was a spotlight he didn’t need.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. I have a surprise.”

“What is it?” Noah washed the pan he’d used to grill onions for the burgers.

“A surprise is a thing you don’t tell people.”

Noah laughed. “An employer is a person who controls a paycheck.”

“Touché. You’ll see. It’s a good one.”

“Better be or it’s a sucky surprise.”

“As long as you don’t do a sucky apology, everything should work out fine.”

He dried his hands so he could press End. Hopefully, Josh was right and everything would be fine. It occurred to him, as he finished up the dishes, that he was so worried about making things right with Grace, he’d forgotten that he wanted her house in the first place. Maybe Chris and Everly were right: it was a choice. He was choosing to shift his priorities. It wasn’t too late to figure out what kind of man he wanted to be. He hoped.





16


Grace finished the online practice test with a score of ninety-three percent.

“I’ll take it.” She shoved her books aside, looked for her sketchbook before remembering she’d left it at Noah’s.

She’d probably overreacted, leaving without even saying goodbye to his family. Over the last several years, she’d prided herself on reading people—which was part of why she hadn’t told Noah to take a hike. There was intrinsic good in him, a connection she hadn’t felt with anyone else, even if he could be a jerk. She sensed there was a reason behind it. But last night, she’d felt like her supersenses were off.

She didn’t need anyone else in her life who put themselves first. Her mother had given her enough of that. She picked up the letter again. Read it. She didn’t want to. Avoidance was a cool strategy, right? Sure. Works every time.

Rolling her shoulders, she finished the last of her coffee. She was debating another cup when the doorbell rang. She hoped it wasn’t Noah. She wasn’t ready to see him or talk to him yet. She did need her book, though.

As she walked to the door, she muttered under her breath, “You’re hurt because you thought he was starting to feel something back.” Let’s face it, she’d been drawn to him from first sight.

Grace swung the door open. She was greeted by a middle-aged man in a red uniform. Bright red. Red shorts, shirt, socks, and hat. She blinked, her gaze zeroing in on the patch on the right chest pocket. RED’S FLOWERS. HERMAN. Okay.

“Hi, ma’am.” His wide grin showed slightly crooked teeth.

“Hi . . . Herman.”

He laughed, tapping his chest where his name was stitched. “That’s me. Are you Grace Travis?”

“I am.”

He passed over a clipboard. “Sign here. I’ll grab your flowers.”

“Okay.” Her chest tightened. No one had ever sent her flowers.

She handed the clipboard back after signing, then watched Herman head to the red van. Since it’d never happened before, she didn’t know what to expect. Maybe a bouquet? Some roses? Grace did not expect Herman to start lugging blossoming flowerpots out of the vehicle. The clay pots he set down on her lawn were beautiful with their bold colors. The flowers inside each one were different. Every color of the rainbow shone out of the arrangements. When he finished, there were twelve pots in her yard.