She stood, didn’t hide the eye roll. “God, you’re so skeptical.”
He stood as well, his gaze going between her and the fence before staying on Grace. “You were right about it not needing to be replaced. Kyle agreed with you. You were also right about the hedges.”
She looked toward the place where the hedges had been, pushing aside the reasoning he’d given her when he talked of removing them.
“Thanks for the view,” she said, inexplicably excited about a glass of wine on her back porch.
“I could pay you to finish the fence.”
Grace’s jaw dropped. She pulled herself together with a deep breath. “I don’t want your money. I said I’d help you. Maybe if you didn’t hire someone to do every little thing, you’d know how to do something as simple as paint.”
She started to walk away, thinking a walk on the beach, barefoot, might soothe her more than wine.
“Hey.”
She turned, met his irritated glare. “What?”
“You said painting was hard.”
“I lied to make you feel better,” she snapped.
Noah’s gaze widened. “You…” He broke off and surprised the hell out of her when a laugh burst free. He bent at the waist, messy hands leaving prints on his jeans. When he straightened, his features had softened with happiness. The sight of him stole her breath. Which also pissed her off.
“You lied to make me feel better.”
It wasn’t a question, so she nodded, pointed to the fence. “Smooth, even strokes back and forth. Pretty simple.”
His gaze heated, and Grace realized that her words could be… misconstrued. Her pulse sped up. With the laughter still visible in his gaze, the easy set of his jaw from his smile, he was more than just attractive. He was the kind of guy she’d pin on her “Dreams for another day” board on Pinterest. Liam Hemsworth coming out of the waves. Henry Cavill comfortable in his own skin.Noah Jansen, socialite and elitist. Don’t forget those parts,she told her wonky heart.
“The paint,” she said sharply. “You need to have enough on your brush but don’t let it drip.”
“Good advice,” he said. Was she imagining his voice had gone husky?
“Well, good night.”
“You said you’d help,” he reminded her.
She probably shouldn’t waste time on a guy who annoyed her as much as intrigued her, but she wanted to be a good neighbor. The truth was, she wanted to be a great everything. Student, designer, person, friend. Neighbor. Daughter. Some of those weren’t attainable, but maybe she could ease the tension that usually sat between them. Then, the next time she toppled over her fence, he wouldn’t try to make her pay for it.
“I did. But I don’t want your money.”
“I get that. You wanted to see my place. A tour for a paint tutorial?”
She fought the grin. “You already agreed to the tour.”
He nodded, wiped his hand over his mouth, and Grace had to hold back the laughter when she saw that the paint had smeared farther across his cheek.
“You show me how to paint, help me out and I’ll help you paint something.”
Hmm. Grace looked at the damage he’d done to the fence. Uneven strokes, gaps where he’d missed spots entirely. “Is that a fair trade?”
He laughed. “You’re a hard-ass. And I’ve negotiated with more than my fair share of them. What do you want?”
She didn’twantanything, but, somehow, the act of negotiating rather than accepting a simple kindness made him a nicer person. Weird.
“Okay. I’ll help. You have to clean all the supplies and help me stain my back deck.”
He hesitated. She arched her brows.
