Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
J uliette was not just fighting for Max’s future, she was fighting for her own. Which is why she’d decided to fight dirty like Gabriella was.
An hour later, she tied her hair up into a messy bun and eyed the cans of soft navy-blue paint they’d picked out for Max’s office. The small powder room would get a fresh coat of a lighter gray-blue paint to complement it.
She turned on the camera and positioned it on the tripod to capture their progress.
For the first hour, they taped off the ceilings, which would be painted in a soft white color that would match the crown molding and baseboards Palmer and his crew would be putting in soon.
“Since we don’t have the scaffolding to paint the ceilings today, we will stick to just painting the walls.” He handed her a work apron to put over her own clothes. “I’ll roll if you do the detail work around the windows and doors,” he said, standing beside her, stirring one of the cans with a wooden stick.
“My specialty,” she joked. She dipped her brush into the can of deep blue paint and watched the rich color coat the bristles. Then she smoothed it over the first wall. The color was bold, striking, just like him.
She could imagine what the space would look like when they were done. He had a large oak desk stored in the barn, along with some chairs and a sofa.
The crews had finished installing four massive built-in bookshelves on the longest wall, which would take extra time to paint.
She knew he planned to put his desk in the center of the room, facing the newly refurbished fireplace, its back to the bookcases. They had taped the mantel off as well, as it too would be painted white.
He would want a couple chairs sitting close to the fireplace and a rug or two for the space. Maybe a sofa and a table by the windows.
Across the room, Max rolled paint onto the longest wall, his long strokes efficient and steady as she dreamed of what painting would hang above the fireplace.
Maybe one of Alison Jordan’s paintings of the lighthouse?
“You know,” he said without looking up, “I think I missed my calling as a painter.”
“Oh yeah? Gonna quit filmmaking and start rolling walls for a living?”
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes glinting with amusement. “If it means I get to see you in paint-splattered clothes every day, I might consider it.”
Juliette rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto her lips. She turned her attention back to the trim she was working on, humming softly as she went. The steady rhythm of painting combined with the easy conversation she and Max had ensured that the task didn’t feel tedious.
As they worked, the office was transformed, the walls turning rich and bold under their combined effort. Max took over with the brush to get the edges while she rolled on the second coat.
Once they finished in the office, they moved on to the attached powder room. It was small but had beautiful natural light streaming in from the frosted window. They had decided on a soft blue-gray color for the space, something classic and moody.
Max worked on the upper portion of the walls while Juliette tackled the lower half, their movements synchronized, comfortable. She reached up to film him as he stretched to reach a high corner, his shirt lifting slightly, revealing a sliver of toned stomach.
“Nice view,” she teased, grinning as she panned the camera over him.
Max smirked and turned, splattering a tiny drop of paint onto her nose with his brush. “Better now?”
She gasped, touching her face. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”
Before he could react, she swiped her own brush against his forearm, leaving a streak of gray. He stared at it for a beat before chuckling darkly. “Oh, it’s on.”
What started as a lighthearted moment quickly turned into an all-out war. Small streaks of paint landed on their arms, faces, and clothes as they laughed and dodged each other’s attacks. The camera still recorded from its stand, capturing every second.
Breathless, Max finally caught her wrist, pulling her close. Their bodies pressed together, paint-smudged and grinning. “I think we’ve officially ruined our clothes,” he murmured, voice husky.
Juliette swallowed, suddenly all too aware of the warmth radiating from him. “Worth it.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Definitely worth it.”
Before she could second-guess herself, she closed the small gap between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss started slow, teasing, but quickly deepened, the paint all but forgotten.
When they finally pulled away, both breathless and grinning, Juliette glanced at the camera still rolling. “Well,” she mused, “that should make for an interesting shot.”
Max chuckled, brushing a smudge of gray from her cheek. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about convincing anyone we’re together now.”
She laughed, resting her forehead against his. “No. I think we just painted the perfect picture.”
He chuckled.
“This is looking good,” she commented, stepping back to admire their work.
“So are you.” Max grinned, eyes dropping to the splatters of paint on her arms and cheek.
Her breath caught at the heat of him so close, his hands firm and steady on her waist. She glanced up at him, catching the flicker of something deeper in his gaze.
“I’ve never told anyone this before,” he said, using his fingertips to brush a droplet of paint from her cheek, “and I know you’re the last person I’ll say it to.” He brushed his lips across hers. “No better time than to admit”—he leaned back and met her eyes—“I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Her heart did a flip. Not one of those little bumps you get when you ride a carnival ride but a full on twist-in-her-chest kind. The kind that left her breathless and light-headed.
She’d never felt like this before. Never.
“I love you too.” She practically whispered it.
His smile caused her heart to fall into its normal pattern again and, suddenly, he was picking her up and spinning her around in the small bathroom.
“This has quickly become my favorite room in the house,” he joked as she laughed.
Juliette clung to Max, laughing as he spun her around in the tiny bathroom, their bodies still speckled with blue and gray paint. The confession of love had left her dizzy in the best way possible. She had never imagined feeling so light, so free—so completely and utterly his.
When he finally set her down, he cupped her face, his thumbs brushing along her jaw. “We should probably clean up before we ruin any more of the house with paint.”
She glanced at the handprint he’d accidentally left on the doorframe. “Too late.” She grabbed the camera and turned it off. “We should edit and post this today,” she said, her voice laced with excitement.
“After a shower.” He took the camera from her and set it down.
“Shower,” she agreed, her stomach flipping again at the heated look in his eyes.
They took turns washing off the paint, laughter filling the bathroom as they scrubbed stubborn streaks from their skin.
When their laughter died away, replaced with moans of delight, she fell even further in love with him as he showed her how gentle he could be with her and how much he meant those words he’d confessed.
Her knees shook after, and she sat on the bench in the shower. Max got out and wrapped a towel around his waist before tossing another at her. “Take your time finishing up. I’ll go make us some sandwiches.”
She did a happy dance internally when he left the room, then finished rinsing off. Stepping out of the shower, she combed her hair and braided it before putting on a fresh pair of shorts and a tank top.
She met him out on the deck. He had already laid sandwiches, chips, and two glasses of iced tea on the outdoor table, the ocean breeze cooling the midday warmth.
“This,” she sighed, sinking into her chair, “is perfect.”
Max reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together as he took a bite of his sandwich. “Only because you’re here.”
“I figured we could edit this while we eat. Then we can post it.” She set up her laptop and inserted the camera’s drive.
As they ate, Max peered over her shoulder, watching as she edited a short clip of them painting—complete with the playful brush battle and the moment they admitted their love for each other. The ending was just them, foreheads pressed together, covered in paint but completely wrapped up in one another.
“You sure?” he asked, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her back.
She met his gaze. “As long as you are.” When he nodded, she finished. “Gabriella wanted to control the narrative. Let’s take that away from her.”
With a deep breath, she hit post. Within minutes, notifications flooded in, the video spreading like wildfire. Fans commented in real time, swooning over their chemistry, congratulating them, and—thankfully—drowning out any mention of Gabriella’s ridiculous press conference.
Max grinned as he set his phone down. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”
She shrugged, trying to play it cool, but inside, her heart was soaring.
After their meal, they took a slow walk along the beach, the waves lapping at their feet as they strolled side by side.
“So, I have one more item I wanted to discuss with you,” Max said, turning towards her and wrapping his arms around her.
“Oh? You need help painting the rest of the house and since you’ve seen firsthand how much better at it I am than you, you’ve decided to ask me to paint the rest all by myself?”
He chuckled. “True, but not what I wanted to say.” He kissed her and then rested his forehead against hers. “I wanted to ask you to move in with me. The place seems empty. Without you.”
She felt her heart flip again in her chest, only this time it was a warm sort of feeling.
“It already feels like home,” she admitted. “You feel like home.” She kissed him.
Just then she felt Max tense. She heard the clicking of cameras and understood why.
Before she could even see the cameramen, Max turned and sheltered her and they started walking quickly back towards the stairs leading them home.
“Wait,” she said, stopping him. “We wanted this, right? After all, we just went public.”
He sighed and then nodded before glancing around. “As long as you’re sure.”
Juliette took a steadying breath and squared her shoulders. “Yes, let’s do this.” This was exactly what they had wanted—what she had wanted. To take control of their story. So why did the flashing cameras still make her stomach twist?
Max’s grip on her waist tightened protectively as he scanned their surroundings. The photographers weren’t aggressive, but they were persistent, calling his name, asking for a statement, snapping endless photos. She turned to him, her hand still clasped in his.
His eyes softened. “Okay, just remember this was your idea.”
She smiled at him. With a bright, confident smile, she leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. She felt him smile against her before pulling her even closer, deepening it just enough to make sure there was no doubt in anyone’s mind.
The cameras went wild.
When they finally broke apart, Max exhaled a laugh. “That should do it.”
“Think it’s enough to get Gabriella off your back?” she asked, amused as they started walking up the stairs leading home.
“If not, I don’t know what will.” He grinned, giving her fingers a squeeze. “But I don’t care. As long as I have you.”
The warmth in her chest spread. “You have me,” she promised.
When they reached the top of the stairs, she glanced over her shoulder. The paparazzi were still there, some reviewing their shots, others making calls. But instead of feeling overwhelmed, she felt free.
She had spent so much of her life hiding, hesitant to let anyone in. But here she was, standing beside Max, choosing to be seen. Choosing to be his.
“Come on,” he murmured, leading her inside. “Let’s celebrate moving in together. I have some more crème br?lée or there’s mint chocolate chip ice cream. Your choice. We can watch a movie together and enjoy the rest of the evening.”
“You had me at crème br?lée.” She kissed him again.
She laughed as he pulled her towards the house, already knowing that no matter what craziness the world threw at them, they’d face it together.