How to Love Your Neighbour(43)

Noah ducked, swiftly sidestepping to the left. “Grace? What the fuck?” The mallet hit the railing with a thud and a crack. Uh-oh. Slowly, he put his hands to his head, pulling out earbuds, staring at her like she was an alien.

Her breathing was too labored to speak. She attempted to run again, this time into the house, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. What the actual hell?

Through a growl, she yelled, “What is wrong with my feet?!”

Noah didn’t come closer. Grace’s eyes adjusted to the pale light of the moon enough to see his deep scowl.

“You’re stuck in the stain.”

She looked down at her sloths. Wiggling her foot, it came out of the slipper. Grace sighed and slipped her foot back inside. “You’re staining my deck at almost one in the morning?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“With a heart attack?”

His sigh could almost be felt across the distance. “I screwed up. I’m sorry. I asked for the survey before I even knew you.”

Her anger flickered. Dimmed. “And?”

He met her gaze. “And what?”

She rolled her eyes, trying to hang on to the last bits of her mad. It was easier to be upset with him. “What were the results?”

He paused so long, she wondered if he would answer. He looked back at his house as if he could see through the dark. When he looked her way again, she couldn’t read his expression.

“The fence is exactly where it’s supposed to be.”

All of her muscles relaxed. What could she say? A simple explanation from him always seemed to erase her reasons for walking away.

“Can we talk?” Noah shifted, moving as if he wanted to come closer.

“Not from any closer. You owe me new sloth slippers,” she said, attempting humor but sounding cranky. “That was supposed to be a joke.”

“Can you get into the house? I’ll meet you at the front door.”

She nodded, gave her mallet one last look, and pulled her foot out of her slipper, leaning toward the house and stretching until her toes touched the threshold. She didn’t want to think about how ungraceful she must look, taking a giant step, trying not to fall flat on her ass on her newly painted deck.

As she walked toward her front door, she realized she wasn’t worried about her bedhead, ratty T-shirt, or baggy flannel pajama pants. She should either marry this man or make him her best friend. There were few people in life who kept witnessing her in such unguarded states.

When she pulled the door open, Noah stood on her porch, clutching a small bouquet of flowers.

Laughter and tears bubbled up, wanting to escape. She stepped back.

“I believe these are a more appropriate size,” he said, passing them over.

“Maybe you should stop doing things that make you feel like you have to apologize.”

He gave a wry laugh, closing the door behind him as she took the flowers. “That’s an excellent idea. And my plan.”

“Do you want a drink? Some warm milk? I don’t usually entertain at this hour so I don’t know what the etiquette is.”

He followed her to the kitchen. “I’m good. I think, at this point, we’ve thrown etiquette out the window.”

“Like my mallet?” She looked back over her shoulder.

“Is that what that was? It scared the hell out of me. I thought you were going to take my head off. You’ve got a wicked arm.”

“Star pitcher all through school. Good thing you moved and my feet didn’t.”

She pulled a vase out from under the cupboard with one hand, set the flowers down so she could fill it. Her heart rate had settled but her chest felt too tight.

Using the mundane task of organizing the flowers, she avoided looking at him. He was a lot easier to be angry with, to blame for her feelings and the events of the day, when she wasn’t looking directly at him. When he wasn’t making her laugh or looking at her like he was dying of thirst and she was the only water around. She caught those glimpses so infrequently, she wondered if she imagined them. When she couldn’t fuss with the flowers any longer, she turned, leaned her hip against the sink.

Noah was leaning against the doorjamb that separated the kitchen from the living room. With a lot more grace than she’d pulled off at his house.

“You didn’t need to stain my deck.”

“I wanted to do something to show you I’m sorry.”

Her easily malleable heart went squishy.

This isn’t about your heart. “Why are you here?”

“To say sorry.”

Grace fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, glancing down. “You said it. You gave me flowers.”

“I’ve never given a woman flowers.”

Her head snapped up. “How is that possible?”

“I’ve sent them to my mother. That’s it.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Thanks?”

He chuckled, making the room feel hotter. Pushing off the wall, he crossed the room so he was standing next to her. “In hindsight, I’ve probably done things that deserved an apology. You’re the first woman who’s ever made me stop and take a look at my actions. The first to make me want to apologize.”

A distracting tingle that she was pretty sure was directly connected to the look he was giving her skittered up her spine. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing. It’d make life easier if we stayed away from each other, Noah.”