How to Love Your Neighbour(52)

Was every answer she gave going to gut him?

“We’re heading to your beloved Pottery Barn after this but I prefer the bedding here. We’ll pick bedding for three rooms. I have a new idea for the second room downstairs I want to talk to you about.”

They stopped in the middle of the aisle when a little girl sat right in front of their cart. The mom gave a smiley wince and crouched down. “Get up, sweetie.”

The blond-haired cutie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. The large pink backpack made it seem like she was in a recliner. “I tired.”

Noah bit his lip so he didn’t laugh. With the mom crouching and the little girl sprawled, the aisle was completely blocked.

“I’m so sorry. You need to get up. We’re keeping these people from shopping. That’s not very nice of us.”

The little girl looked like she might cry. Her bottom lip trembled. An unfamiliar warmth filled Noah’s chest. He wanted to tell this little girl she could take all the time she needed.

“I sorry,” she said.

“That’s okay. Shopping makes everyone sleepy,” Grace said. She pointed at Noah. “Even this guy. I had to promise him a treat to get him to finish.”

His brows arched. A treat from Grace. He almost sighed out loud.

The mom smiled at Grace then looked down at her daughter. “Why don’t we get some French fries when we’re done here?”

“We like French fries,” the little girl said, already getting up.

“You and Mom?” Noah asked.

“Nuh-uh. Me and Puggy.” She turned around so he could see her pink backpack. It was fluffy and though it opened like a regular pack, it had the face of a stuffed, pink . . . bear? Dog? Animal, for sure.

“Well, hello there, Puggy. Nice to meet you. Enjoy your fries,” Noah said.

After the mom mouthed “Thank you,” he and Grace stood there a moment longer.

She looked up at him. “You’re really good with kids.”

He pretended to shudder. “I don’t think so. They terrify me.”

Her laughter rolled over him, making him happy from the inside out. “You really are a wimp.”

As he pushed the cart forward, he admitted, “I may have lost my upper hand after all. Now you know I’m scared of kids and I’ve watched Pretty Woman more than most women.”

She bit her lip, fought back her smile. It made him want to draw it out. Or nibble on her bottom lip. Nope. Nope. Not that.

“Your secrets are safe with me, Noah. That’s what friends are for.”

Well, he’d never felt like this about any of his other friends, but maybe it was time for a new adventure. One that made him smile more than he had in longer than he could remember.





24


There was no way to recover any amount of . . . well, grace, when she sank into the cushions of the sofa Noah insisted looked awesome. It swallowed her whole.

“I feel like I’m trapped in a foam pit. Help me,” she said, reaching out her hand. Jesus. It was fabric quicksand.

Did he reach forward and yank her out? Nope. He took out his phone and snapped a picture.

“Seriously?” She wiggled around, attempting to plant her feet on the ground, but where did the ground go? “This thing is like a quicksand beanbag from hell.”

Noah bent forward, laughing harder, deep, sexy, annoyingly endearing chuckles. “You have T. rex legs. They’re flailing.”

She scowled, turning to the side. He finally leaned in, put both hands on her hips, and plucked her out of the cushions. She smacked his chest. “Jerk move.”

“I saved you.”

“You took a picture first.”

Why was his damn grin so infectious? It widened when he glanced at the couch. “I think you’re overreacting. Soft couches are the best.”

“Have a seat,” she suggested.

With a cocky swagger that made him only more appealing, he stretched his arms wide, dropped down onto the couch. And sank deeper. His knees came up a bit, his brows furrowing into a wince. “There are no springs.”

“Just a big mushy pile of foam.” Satisfaction thrummed through her. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she snapped a quick picture, making him scowl. “Aw. What’s the matter? You stuck?”

He scoffed. “Of course not.”

She did her best to bite back her laugh as he wiggled and squirmed out of the seat.

“It’s a good one, isn’t it? The secret is the wide cushions. Even tall people have difficulty reaching the floor with their back against the cushions,” a youngish salesperson said. His spiked hair was colored a deep blue. The kind of blue she thought would look good in the room she wanted to surprise Noah with.

“It’s a little constricting,” Noah said, brushing his hands down his jeans when he’d extracted himself.

Surprise arched the lines on the salesperson’s forehead. “Oh. Perhaps I can show you something firmer?”

“Like a piece of paper,” Grace muttered.

Noah’s gaze sparked with amusement. “Yes, please. Much firmer. But we can actually just look for ourselves. We’ll holler if we need help.”

“Yes, sir,” the kid said, leaving them to join another bored-looking salesperson.

“You sure about this place?” Noah asked.