“Nah. Just weak,” she said, poking him in a bony shoulder.
He laughed, patted her cheek. “You’re a good girl when you aren’t being sassy.”
Grace winked at him. “So, never?”
Hugo arrived with his on-again-off-again boyfriend. When Grace saw him hauling the mattress out of Morty’s old truck bed by himself, his tank top showing off his biceps, she was grateful they were currentlyon.She hated calling in favors but her other choice was hauling a few things at a time and that wouldn’t work for her bed or bigger items. Besides, she considered always being willing to switch shifts for him a good trade.
Her things got deposited fairly quickly, and though the guys offered to stick around, help her set up the bed, she told them she was fine. The truth was, she wanted to be alone. When she said goodbye, thanking them all profusely, promising a pizza-and-beer get-together very soon, she shut the door and leaned against it. It rounded at the top, which she absolutely adored. Turning, she ran her fingers along the scarred wood planks. She’d need to redo it. Excitement swelled through her whole body. Turning in a circle, she walked through each of the rooms, taking them all in.
The entryway had a little coat closet and a recessed nook she’d like to put a bench in for putting on her shoes.
She stared at the space a minute. The whole place needed a thorough painting. Inside and out. “I need a beach picture right here.” That would be the first thing people saw when they came in.
To the left was an archway that led to a living area. A wall with a window-size hole revealing part of the kitchen separated those spaces. All of the appliances needed to be replaced but would do for now.
She ran her hand along the wainscoted cupboard doors. They were beautiful.
“Coat of paint and they’ll be like new.” She wanted to play around with Chalk Paint and figured these would be a good canvas.
There was a small laundry off the kitchen, a mudroom of sorts with a door leading out to the porch. The house was small but she liked the coziness of the one-story layout with two bedrooms and a den the size of a closet. It might actually be a storage closet but she’d done a design project on tiny spaces and wanted to see what she could do with it. Her bed was set up and made; she had only clothes, some linens, and toiletries to unpack, so she took her phone to the deck and sat in one of the two lawn chairs she’d brought.
She could see the beach, though she had to sit on the right side of the porch to look past Noah’s hedges.Noah Jansen.Sinking into the chair, she cast a quick glance around, and then she did a quick little toe tap dance in her seat.
“This is my view from now on,” she whispered. She thought about her grandparents, wondering what they were like. Had they sat out here every night? Maybe with a cup of tea or a beer? Had her mom played in this yard? She couldn’t imagine her mother playing innocently. Tammy was a master player but not in a way that held any fond memories.
Maybe her grandparents had read to her mother sitting on this deck.A porch swing. That’s what this needs. One of those wooden ones.She wasn’t sure how much they cost but maybe she could use the bonus money from face painting toward that splurge. Maybe. She needed to take a look at payment plan options for home insurance and taxes first.
Looking down at her phone, she texted John Dade, asked for his son’s contact information. There was no more waiting. All the things she’d patiently been putting aside were right here, within her grasp. Her life right now was a series of boxes she was checking off and the feeling was pure bliss. Finishing up school? Check. Settling into a home you own? Check. That one was stilla shock. Without her grandparents leaving it to her, she wouldn’t have that box checked. Good friends? Check. Job prospects? Check. Life was moving along just fine, thank you very much. It was like she could see her lonely, rootless self slipping farther away in the rearview mirror.
She heard a sharp snipping sound to her left. Her home had been built on the west side of the property, which allowed for a nice expanse of yard between her and the right-side neighbor. Due to the size of Mr. Money’s house though, which was the newest on the street, her proximity to him—or at least, his home—was a lot closer. If he trimmed the overgrowth properly, she’d benefit from the view. The tops of his shears came into view.Has to be on a ladder.He was tall—easily over six feet—but not that tall. The blades swished almost aggressively. She’d taken a course in landscape design two semesters ago and decided it was not for her.Interior only, thank you very much.
“Your scissors sound angry,” she called over the hedges. She honestly wasn’t sure if he’d been serious about his offer. Not that she was interested but it made him somewhat intriguing. One of those boxes had long been left unchecked: someone to love and share life with.
The creak of a metal ladder answered her and then she saw Hottie McMoney Pants peering over. She winced, hoping he was steady and not holding the shears blade-up.
“Not angry at all. Just doing some trimming.”
“Oh? You have a background in pruning?”
It was a lot trickier than people thought. She could see his face from the nose up. His hair was messy, like he’d gone in and showered while she’d unloaded. His forehead crinkled.
“Is there a degree in such a thing?”
“Actually, yes.”
He laughed but it wasn’t the one that made her stomach swirl deliciously like the cresting waves in the ocean he’d walked out of. No. It was harder. Sharper.
“Afraid not but I’ve been holding scissors since I was four so I think I’ve got it.”
“There’s actually a real art to pruning,” she said, trying not to sound condescending. She didn’t mean to be but knew that doing it wrong could wreck the shrubs. “Most people hire someone to do it if they haven’t done it.” If he was serious about buying her house, he could definitely afford a landscaper.
“Believe it or not, I don’t have to hire someone for everything I do.”
Grace frowned, then walked down the steps and along the side of her house where the hedges tapered off. She peered over the fence, leaning her upper body over the waist-high white wood. The flat top dug into her stomach while her hand rested on the support beam running lengthwise.
He was standing on a ladder, wearing shorts that showed off muscular legs and no shirt.Oh. My.He might not be Edward Scissorhands but he looked damn fine doing it. She leaned a little farther over and into the wood to get a slightly better peek at Captain Grumpy. He’d just glanced her way when the wood cracked where she put her weight. She wasn’t exactly top-heavy but the angle, the surprise, and the break sent her tumbling over right onto his lawn like a comedian tripping over a half door.
She heard his curse, the thump of the scissors on the ground, and him hurrying toward her, but closed her eyes, rolled to her side.
