Emily tipped her elegant chin up. Strands of her tightly wound bun looked golden in the light of the window. “I have some thoughts. I’d like to work with you and a designer of my choosing.”
The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “Excuse me?”
“I like Grace.”
He closed his eyes, counted to three, and met her gaze. “Grace is my neighbor. Who I’m not on the best terms with.” Who rocked my world with a kiss I won’t ever forget. “She’s not some up-and-comer. She’s completely green.”
Emily stood. “The dynamic between the two of you will make up for her inexperience.”
“I respect you, Emily. But I want a professional.”
Apparently this woman had her own deal-closing smile. “More than you want this spread? Because I’m going big. This is big. This is the kind of thing that people will remember. It’ll do more than put you on the map without your father’s backing. It’ll create an entirely new map. Like reality television on the page. There’s no way for this not to work. It’s edgy but in keeping with our brand.”
Josh made himself suspiciously busy. Noah shoved his hands in his pockets, trying not to act or look petulant. “This is a deal breaker?”
She nodded. “I have good instincts. So do you.”
Son of a bitch. He did, and those instincts told him that Grace would do a hell of a job on his house. That wasn’t what worried him. There was something about her that made him think she could also do one hell of a makeover on his heart.
Emily pulled out her phone, brought up her camera. “I have so many ideas. The photographer can add a video element to our website. We’ll get double the audience.”
Josh joined them again. “Should I help her with a schedule, boss?”
Noah bit back an unfriendly retort and simply gave one hard nod. He held out his hand to Emily. “I guess we’ll be working together.”
Her gaze brightened. “Don’t you have to work it out with your neighbor?”
Instincts. He had plenty. Grace Travis was a smart woman. There was no way she’d say no to this. No matter how much he pissed her off. Or turned her on. “I’m positive she’ll be on board.” Then why did he have this niggling worry it was going to take some work to convince her?
Emily beamed. “Instead of one article, which is our usual, I want to do a series. Beginning, middle, end. How a house becomes a home. Oh, that’s an excellent title, if I may say so.”
Noah’s thoughts were running around like a dog after its tail. This was more than big. This was huge. If not for one gorgeous hurdle.
“That’s incredible,” Josh said, his voice nearly reverent.
“It’s going to be a game changer,” Emily said.
On that, at least, they could agree.
* * *
Noah tried to put Grace out of his mind while he sorted through logistics, emails, and contracts. Josh had left hours ago, promising to finalize the details with Emily. Noah’s job, in the morning, was to smooth the path with Grace—get her on board for something that could be huge for both of them. Right after he got her to forgive him. Again.
Standing on his back deck, he stared at her house. There was a light on but that was the only sign of her being in there. Why the hell does she feel so far away? He wasn’t sure what was going on inside of him. Maybe he needed to chat with Chris. Or Wes. Maybe he needed to take a quick trip back to New York. See some friends, hit some clubs, and remind himself that he was in the prime of his life. But the only thing he wanted to do as the California sky grew darker was figure out how to mend fences, literally and figuratively, with Grace.
He smiled up at the moon. He’d start there. Obviously, she liked the flowers but they hadn’t impressed her. Grace wasn’t like any other woman he’d met.
Going back into the house, he grabbed the supplies before heading to her backyard. As quietly as possible, he got everything set up and began working. With Spotify playing through his earbuds, he did something he’d never done before: he stained a deck.
Swiping his brow with the back of his arm, he realized, when he was about halfway through, that he’d put a lot of work into his real estate ventures but never into himself. There was a weird, tingling kind of satisfaction coursing through him. Or maybe it was just the sweat stinging his eyes.
Either way, he felt good about what he was doing. He leaned back, resting on his calves, pursing his lips as he struggled to recognize the emotion. It was what he’d strived for in every purchase, every deal he’d made for his father. He’d wanted his father’s pride. It hadn’t occurred to Noah that there was something better. Noah was proud of himself.
19
Grace wanted to throw her pillow across the room. Instead, she put it over her face and screamed into it. She was a pent-up ball of irritation and sadness. And she hated it. How many times had her mother lain in bed lamenting over a man? That was not who Grace wanted to be. Ever. She sat up, tossed the pillow onto the floor.
This wasn’t about Noah. It was about her house, her goals, and him getting in her damn way. She threw the covers off her lap and got out of bed. She’d have a snack, get a drink, calm her mind, and go back to bed.
Padding through the house in her fuzzy sloth slippers, knowing the space well enough that she didn’t need anything other than the natural light of the moon shining through the windows, she stopped at the threshold between the living and kitchen areas. Her heart hiccupped sharply, then lodged in her throat. Someone’s on the deck. Panic spread, lightning-fast, through her body. Breathe. Breathe. Her phone was in her room. Okay. Don’t be the idiot in the horror movie who gets slashed. Think. She tiptoed into the kitchen with her body hunched over. Leaning against the fridge, she glanced around, looking for a weapon. A knife was obvious, but she’d seen enough movies, read enough books, to know it could be turned against her easily. Nope. She needed something else. Opening her utensil drawer as quietly as possible, keeping her gaze on the window, she felt around, frowned. Turkey baster. Baking spatula. Bamboo sticks … hmm … no. Ladle. What the hell? Why don’t you have more dangerous kitchen equipment? She moved a few things around, glanced at the drawer then back at the window. What if he looked through? The window over the sink would reveal her location in two seconds flat. Her hands closed around a meat mallet.
“There you go.” She slid the drawer closed, smiling in the semidarkness.
Four years of softball had given her a hell of a swing. All she had to do was connect; scare him off. In her crouch, she waddled to the door, stopping when she heard a sound … heavy footfalls? Scraping? Her breath caught in her throat at the same time her stomach turned. Forcing air in and out of her nose, she held still. When nothing followed, she continued forward. Noiselessly, she turned the lock, still squatting. Grace eased the door open, glanced out, her heart jumping faster than Brutus for a toy. What if he heard it? Looking left, then right, she realized the deck was empty. Or, what she could see of it was. The sea-scented air wafted over her with a hint of … paint thinner? The sound of distant waves cutting through the quiet. A creak came from the left. Around the corner. Okay. She could do this. Rising, she gripped the mallet, stepping onto the deck with a surge of adrenaline just as a dark, tall figure emerged into the moonlight. Intending to rush him with a warrior cry that would scare the life out of him, she tried to lift her foot. To move. She couldn’t. What the? Her brain and her body did not work in tandem. She couldn’t get her feet to move, but her arm did. Her brain caught up with what she was seeing as the scream left her body and the mallet left her hand. It hurtled across the deck toward … oh shit.
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 gr
owl, 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.”
“Absolutely.”
He said it with so much enthusiasm, she wished she had her mallet. Then he reached out with his index finger and ran it along the bridge of her nose.
“You’re cute when you scrunch your nose up like that.”
Grace swatted his hand away. “I’m not trying to be cute.”
“You don’t have to try. I’ve never met anyone like you, Grace. I’m sorry I keep screwing things up.”
It was her turn to shrug. He wasn’t responsible for her feelings. “Let’s just put it behind us. We need to move forward. I can’t keep getting caught up in fighting with you.”
His body moved closer. “I don’t want to fight.”
She gripped the hem of her shirt in her fists. “We’re like oil and water.”
“Don’t both of those things go in salad dressing?” He cocked his head to the side.
“I have no idea. I know they don’t mix.”
Closer. She refused to back up even though she was inhaling his addictive scent. The one that made her want to bury her face in his neck.
“Then that’s not what we are. We mix. I don’t want to screw this up. I realized, even when I’m fighting with you, other than my brother, you’re my closest friend. You matter to me, Grace.”
She couldn’t help the smirk. “You need to widen your circle.”
“Cute.”
She did her best to hide her smile behind a frown.
Noah dipped his head, obliterating any chill Grace’s pulse was pretending to have.
“Are you still mad at me?”
She nodded. “And myself. I’m sorry I stormed into your house. In front of Josh and your guest.”
“I deserved it.”
“You did. Except for the storming part. That was just rude.”
“Guess you owe me some flowers.”
They were dancing in circles. It was exhilarating and tiring all at once. She didn’t have time or space for this even though pieces of her wanted to reach out and grab it all. Grab him. Kiss him. Could she do casual? A fling? She was almost thirty, looking to settle down. Maybe a fling was exactly what she needed. If she went into it knowing there’d be nothing more, she wouldn’t have her heart broken, because she’d be saving it for someone else.
“What are we doing here, Noah?”
“Not what I want,” he said, his tone low. Husky.
She swallowed. “What?”
“You have the most incredible eyes. The only thing prettier is your mouth. Especially when you smile. When you smile at me, I feel that high I only get when I go for a great run or hit a particularly good wave.”
Okay. Screw forever. She wanted him now. She stepped forward, done with talking, with anger, with the cat-and-mouse games.
“Which is why working with you is going to be so hard. I’ve made some mistakes in my life but I’ve never crossed the line between business and personal. So, you can rest assured, no matter how bad I want you, I won’t mess
this up. I’ll stop pushing. Stop flirting. I’ll stop pissing you off. I need you, Grace. I need you on my team. I have a proposition for you. One that could be an incredible opportunity for both of us.”
Only one opportunity was occupying her brain. “What if I don’t want to work with you? What if I want to fall into bed with you, get my fill, and walk away?” With my heart firmly intact.
Noah’s jaw actually dropped. Grace had never uttered those words to any man but it was 1:00 A.M., a magical hour for propositions and deck staining.
Lust and energy surged through Grace’s blood. She stepped into him so their bodies brushed. It was like static electricity. She could almost see the sparks. She could definitely feel them. She knew from the look in his eyes that she wasn’t alone in that.
His breathing was choppy. It cut through the tension between them. “This is either going to be the greatest or the worst decision of my life.”
She could agree with that. She went up on tiptoe, and his hands came to her biceps, gripping her heated skin. Instead of giving in to the kiss they both wanted, he used his hold to move her away from him.
“Grace. We can’t.”
20
Abort. Abort. Curl into ball, roll out of room, pretend this never happened. Since that plan likely wouldn’t work, she went with her backup. Standing by what she said.
Lowering herself from her tiptoes, she stepped back, knowing her face was the color of tomatoes. The only thing that helped was that his expression looked tortured.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to take someone up on anything so badly,” Noah said in a rough voice that vibrated over her skin.
She cleared her throat, held his gaze. “Too late. Offer rescinded and hopefully forgotten.”
“Not a chance,” he said, the heat in his gaze making her too warm.
“This is humiliating,” she muttered. Could she blame the whole 1:00 A.M. thing?
Noah stepped forward, touched a hand to her cheek so gently, there and gone like a whisper. “Don’t. You’re an incredible woman in so many ways. You might be the first woman I’ve properly apologized to, Grace, but not the only one I should have. As much as I’m attracted to you, I actually dig the fact that we could maybe be friends. I don’t want to mess that up. Or any of the other stuff I need to talk to you about.”
How to Love Your Neighbor Page 13