Page 49 of Written with Love

Chapter Fifteen

Juliette 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.”