for every occasion. Everyone knows that.”
“Not this occasion. What else you got?”
“You mean, do I have a gold lamé hooker dress in my closet?”
“Do I look like the type of man who would know what gold lamé is?”
No. No, he did not. He looked exactly the same as he did every day. There was no sign of flannel, but he wasn’t exactly dressed up for a night on the town, either. He wore dark jeans, a gray T-shirt, scuffed boots, and a leather jacket. There weren’t a whole lot of leather jackets spotted in this neighborhood, and she was surprised to realize she didn’t hate it.
He apparently had decided the occasion hadn’t merited a shave, as his usual scruff was approaching full-on beard status.
Scott gave her an amused look. “Are you done staring? Do I pass muster?”
“If you think I have a matching leather jacket upstairs, you’re going to be disappointed. This is my best option. Trust me.”
He sighed and turned off the TV as he stood. “Come on.”
Claire curiously followed him back up the stairs. Since he knew her house as well as she did these days, he went straight to her bedroom, directly to the closet.
“I don’t suppose you’ve figured out a way to make the closet bigger?” she asked hopefully, as he opened the doors.
“Not unless you want to get rid of the tub and shrink your bathroom,” he said, crossing his arms and surveying her wardrobe. “I’m good, but even I can’t pull space out of my ass. Is this everything you own?”
“I keep my formal dresses in the guest bedroom, but otherwise, this is it.”
He glanced over at her, a very unflattering frown plastered on his face as he gave her a once-over. “The shoes are fine. I guess.”
“The shoes are Manolo Blahniks,” she protested. “They’re more than fine.”
“You got anything . . . you know . . . strappier?” He looked over the shoe rack as he said it, then pulled a high-heeled nude sandal with an ankle strap from the shelf and shoved the pair at her. “Here. These are better.”
“These don’t go with the dress.”
“That’s good, because you’re not wearing the dress.” He riffled through the hangers until he found two pairs of jeans. He held both out to her. “Which of these is tighter?”
She pointed to the darker pair, a cropped pair of PAIGEs she wasn’t sure she’d ever worn. She didn’t even know if they still fit. “Probably those, but—”
He draped the denim over her shoulder, then moved on to her shirts, pushing through them with rough impatience. “Do you have any tops that don’t belong at a PTA meeting?”
“Sorry, we can’t all look like we’re grunge-cool, straight out of the nineties, with a dash of farmer.”
He rewarded her with a grin, but then gave up on the closet and went to her dresser, pulling open the top two drawers, going still for a moment when he realized he was looking at her bras and panties. Claire crossed her arms, shoes dangling from one finger, refusing to be embarrassed that her contractor was looking at her unmentionables.
With a single finger he lifted a thong. “Please tell me you’re wearing one of these right now.”
“Well, if you do your job right, it’ll be some other man’s job to find out,” she said, rather pleased with her quick retort.
Scott looked unimpressed. He turned back to the dresser, dropping the thong and closing the top two drawers, then opening the two below. He reached into the drawer where she kept her pajamas and general lounge-around-the-house clothes.
“What about this?”
She looked at the clothing in question. “That would be one of Brayden’s undershirts that shrunk in the wash. I wear it to watch TV and do laundry.”
It was also just about the only thing of Brayden’s that hadn’t been closed up in the room.
Scott gave the folded tank a quick shake to see it more fully, and Claire waited expectantly for him to realize what she already knew. The tank was thin and shrunken enough to be formfitting. He glanced back at her—chest region, specifically.
“What bra are you wearing?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“Black or white?”
“Why are those the only two options?”
He opened her bra drawer again and gave her a telling look.
“Right,” she muttered. There really were just two options, with the majority being shades of white. Vanilla once again.
She made a mental note to give her lingerie a strawberry lemonade overhaul. They made pink bras, right? She’d been ordering hers online from the same store