How to Love Your Neighbour(72)

“I’d say you’ve more than made up for it and I’ve had a few moments of my own.”

She eyed the delicious foods—an assortment of all of her favorites. “I love everything here.”

He arched his brows. “You don’t say?”

She’d bet anything that he’d asked Rosie. Which made the gesture even sweeter. She loaded some rice onto a piece of naan, and took a bite.

“Want some wine?”

She nodded because her mouth was full. When she finished, she took a sip of the wine he offered, gesturing to him with her glass. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

His smile told her he knew she was just turning his words back on him. “Pretty sure I already did that today when I told you about Josh.”

The memory made her laugh all over again. “That was a great story. Tell me something else. From when you were young.”

He used a fork to spear some ultrathin pieces of steak. “When I was fourteen, that show Star Search came back on. Do you remember it? I made a video of me rapping and sent it in.”

“What?”

He pointed his fork at her. “I need something on you that ensures you never share that story.”

She made a face, trying to think of something good. Her childhood wasn’t built on funny moments. “I’m trying to think of something, I swear. But all I can think about is you laying down a sick beat.” She didn’t get all the words out before she snorted with laughter, making him laugh and toss a tortilla chip at her, which made her laugh harder.

“Tell me something.”

“Okay. Okay.” She took a few deep breaths, averting her gaze from his so she wouldn’t break into another fit of giggles.

Picking up another piece of naan, she dipped it in hummus. “Oh. I know. Okay, this isn’t something no one knows but the people who do have probably forgotten it because it was twenty years ago.”

“Give it up.”

“I went to a friend’s house for a sleepover once. That was always a big deal for me because I loved to imagine their homes were mine. Well, I was hanging with this slightly older girl, she was eleven to my mere ten. She invited a couple of twelve-year-old boys and a few other girls. She snuck them into her basement and suggested we play spin the bottle. I pretended I knew exactly what that entailed but when we sat in the circle and the bottle pointed to me, I had no idea what was going to happen. This boy, I can’t even remember his name, kissed me. It was more like he lip-smushed me. It was ridiculous.”

Noah was laughing but she held up a hand. “That’s not the funny party. I burst into tears and told them I wasn’t allowed to get married. I thought it was some sort of ceremony or something. I got teased for months until we moved. That was actually one of the moves I was happy about.”

“Jesus, you’re so cute.”

She glared at him. “I am not that girl anymore.” She waved her hand around the table. “I’m fully aware that none of this means we’re married.”

Noah pursed his lips. “Maybe not this but once we paint each other, I’m pretty sure we’ll be bound for eternity.”

Rolling her eyes, she finished sampling bits of everything while they shared stories of growing up. It was surprising to her, given how different their financial statuses were, how much they had in common. At their core, both of them were pleasers trying to outrun the shadows of their parents. Doing a pretty fine job of it, too.

When Noah tossed his napkin down, he stood, stretched, and reached out his hand for Grace’s.

“We’ll have dessert later. You ready?”

There were a lot of things Grace was ready for in this life. Noah Jansen was not one of them. But she slipped her hand in his, going up on tiptoes to kiss him. “Absolutely.”

Noah trailed behind her, his hands on her hips, down the hallway to the Sunset Room. The narrow hallway, painted a bright, fluorescent green, was hardly wide enough for one person.

“This one.” He reached around her, his hand and arm brushing against the skin of her biceps to turn the door knob. It could have been the wine or the company, but the touch felt more intimate with them standing this close.

The room had rubber mats, splattered walls, and a corner station with a sink that had several shelves above it containing paints. A small, metal, rolling trolley was set up with a variety of paints, brushes, and cloths.

Noah shut the door behind him and went to the trolley. “Everything we need is on here.” He turned, pointed to the two canvases that were far larger than she expected. One was nearly her height but narrow, while the other was a fat, perfect square. That would fit beautifully in the spot over the wrought-iron guest bed.

She pointed. “Are we painting our own or each other’s?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“I want to paint that one for you. You paint that one for me.”

Noah’s mouth dropped open. “Okay. You know this is for fun, right? You’ve got your design face on and I can’t paint.”

Walking closer to him, she framed his face the way he’d framed hers earlier. “I don’t have a designing face.”

“You do.” He pointed at her face. “It’s on you right now.”

“If they suck, we won’t hang them, but if they’re cool, this canvas is the perfect size for your guest room.”