Page 13 of Guarding My Love

“Somewhere,” she said. She moved over to the bag that the rollers and brushes were put in and pulled it out. “I wasn’t sure why he gave it to me.”

“To stir the paint,” he said drily.

No need to comment. She’d already said she’d never done this before and she was willing to learn.

“Wish I knew that before,” she said.

“Don’t put a ton into the tray either,” he said. “You already trimmed around the windows.”

“Not very well,” she said.

“You said it, not me.”

“But you want to,” she said, laughing.

She noticed there was some humor in his eyes, but it didn’t reach his face enough for him to smile.

Bummer. She’d bet he was pretty handsome if he smiled.

He poured some paint into the plastic pan. “Lightly coat the paint on the roller. It’s not a race to get it done fast.”

She watched him form the letters W and N with the motion of the roller on her walls and go much higher than she’d been able to do. He wouldn’t need a ladder.

“Wow,” she said. “Much better than I did. But now I’ll have to do two coats for the area I couldn’t reach.”

“You’re going to tape your ceiling, right?”

“Tape it?” she asked.

“Do you want to repaint your ceiling?”

“No,” she said.

“Considering how well you did around the windows, I’d recommend taping the ceiling.”

She frowned. Before she could say anything, he pulled the chair over and stood on it with the tape in his hand and started to move around the room taping it all before she could have figured out how to even stick the stuff.

“Why does it look so easy when someone else does it?” she asked.

“I’ve done this a lot in my life,” he said. “Give me that brush.”

“Why?” Nothing like not being polite.

“Because this room is so small and I’m up here, I’m going to cut it for you.”

“You’re going to cut my wall?” she asked.

He squinted at her. “A figure of speech in painting. Hand me the brush and hold the can of paint.”

“When you ask that nicely,” she said, “how can I say no?”

“Your sarcasm is just like one of my sisters.”

He started to paint, then got down and moved the chair while she followed him. Thankfully Marco was napping in his bed in the living room, having lost interest.

“How many sisters do you have?” she asked.

“Two,” he said.

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