Page 40 of Falling for the Bad Boy
“It’s perfect. I think it conveys the spirit of the artwork we’re promoting. There shouldn’t be any limits placed on creativity.”
“And you’re going to suspend this over the counter downstairs?”
I pointed to the edge of the canvas. “I need to install some grommets and then I think I’ll just hang it against the back wall for now.”
“I like it.”
“Really?” My heart skipped a beat as he nodded his approval. It shouldn’t matter to me a bit what he thought of me or my plans, but it did.
“Yeah, it’s cool. You’ve got talent.”
“I’m sure I don’t have nearly as many hidden talents as you.” I batted my eyelashes at him in an overtly cheesy move. “You came up with a name for my business. That’s another one.”
He lowered his chin and shook his head. “I’m never going to live down the hidden talent comment, am I?”
“I hope not. Come on, you want to help me paint?” Before he could respond, I dropped to my knees and popped open a can of the paint I’d been using earlier. “You can use one of those aprons over there, so you don’t get paint on your shirt.”
“Or I could just take it off.” He whipped his shirt over his head and tossed it toward the edge of the room. “I’d rather wear nothing than put on one of your aprons.”
I sucked in a breath as my gaze ran over the expanse of his exposed chest. Immediately, flashes of the night before flipped through my mind. My pulse thundered, but I tried to act unaffected. “Whatever floats your boat.”
“What do you want me to work on?” He took the paintbrush I offered and kicked off his shoes before he knelt down across from me. “I want you to know I have absolutely no experience wielding a paintbrush.”
“None?” I glanced up, surprised. “Haven’t you ever painted a room?”
Oliver shook his head. “Nope.”
“Kindergarten? Did you have watercolors in school?”
He sat back on his heels. “Not that I remember.”
“That’s awful. Fingerpaints in the bathtub?” My cheeks tingled as I finished asking the question. Talking about bathtubs with Oliver wasn’t the way to go. Not when I could still feel his hands sliding over my skin.
“Is that an offer?”
“I thought we were going to focus on just being neighbors.” I dared a glance over at him.
He grinned back, clearly enjoying the way the conversation had detoured into uncomfortable territory. “Good neighbors. I want you to know that if you need someone to wash your back, like a spot you can’t reach yourself, I’m just a building away.”
Heat pulsed between my legs at the thought of Oliver soaping up my backside. “That’s not necessary. I’m pretty flexible, and I’m sure I can do it myself.” What had gotten into him? After our awkward run-in earlier, it seemed like we’d worked out how to handle the heat that flared between us. By ignoring it, not adding fuel to the flames with loaded comments and double entendres.
“Flexible, huh? Is that one of your hidden talents?”
My gaze shot to his face, to the cocky smile spreading across his lips. “I never said I had any hidden talents.”
“Yeah, well you never said you didn’t.” He arched a brow, almost like an invitation. To what, I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
I bit my bottom lip to keep from firing a one-liner back at him. Then dipped my brush into the paint can. Oliver could try to engage me in his witty brand of foreplay, but that didn’t mean I needed to partake.
“Give me your brush.” I reached out and took the paintbrush from his hand. After I dipped it into the can and wiped the extra paint on the rim, I passed it back to him. “Why don’t you just work around the edges. Make a border or something.”
“Want to demonstrate what you have in mind?” He held the brush just over the canvas.
I cringed as paint dripped from the tip of his brush onto the edge. “Careful, you’re getting paint everywhere.”
He glanced down and ran a finger over the drip. All that did was spread it out. “Do you have a rag or something I can wipe this on?”
I tossed him a roll of paper towels. “Careful, now you’ve got some over there.”
