Love on Lexington Avenue - Lauren Layne Page 0,36
she asked, fanning herself.
Scott gave her a dark look over the top of his phone, never pausing in his typing.
“Kidding, jeez.”
Scott put his phone back in his pocket and took another swallow of coffee. “So. How’d it go?”
“How’d what go?”
He gave his first smile of the day. “Things with Brah.”
“Oh.” She laughed, remembering Saturday night’s out-of-character adventure. “Not much to tell, I’m afraid.”
“You left together.”
“Yeah.” She fiddled with her earring. “I was feeling reckless and a little . . .”
She opted not to finish the sentence since the only thing that came to mind was hot and bothered, and Scott wasn’t one of her girlfriends. More than ever, Claire was realizing she missed the physical closeness with someone. It was intriguing to think she could have that with someone without risking her heart in the process.
Alas, Jesse had not been that guy.
“Your place or his?” Scott asked.
“His. At least that was the plan. It was around the corner, and I don’t know that I’m ready to have someone in my space yet.”
He nodded. “Smart.”
“In theory. In reality, we didn’t make it there.”
Scott’s eyebrows rose.
Claire laughed. “Not like that. We were headed back to his building, and I had second thoughts. Decided to test the waters with a kiss—wait, why am I telling you this?”
He leaned back against the counter, crossing his boots at the ankle. “As your wingman, I must know all.”
She shrugged, realizing that she didn’t feel as embarrassed as she’d expected. “Okay, so I stopped him and kissed him.”
He was watching her carefully. “No good?”
“It was very . . . wet.”
Scott winced.
“I made a polite excuse, and he let me go without much more than a vacant, drunk grin. I’m not sure he’ll remember the details of the evening all that clearly.”
“Idiot.”
“Eh,” she said with a wave of her hand, “we’ve all been there. And I’m glad my first attempt was with someone who was too far gone for me to embarrass myself.”
Still, she’d be lying if she wasn’t a little disappointed that her first kiss after being widowed was so . . . blah. She hadn’t wanted it to be epic—she didn’t want that kind of entanglement. But she’d at least wanted it to be hot, and Jesse’s slobber all over her face definitely hadn’t qualified.
Claire took another gulp of coffee, glanced at the clock, then blinked. “Crap, is that the time?”
“Yeah. Hot date?”
“Actually, sort of,” she replied, putting the mug on the counter. “I mean not hot, but I have a coffee . . . thing.”
Crap, now she felt awkward around Scott, especially when he was watching her with a slightly knowing grin. “You’re giving Brah another shot even after the waterworks kiss?”
“No. Not him.” She pointed at the fridge. “Can I clean that out when I get back?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Perfect.” Claire went to the sink to rinse her mug, started to put it in the dishwasher, then paused. “You’re getting rid of this, huh?”
“I’m getting rid of that piece-of-shit that insults dishwashers everywhere, yes, and that’s the last question I’ll answer about the kitchen renovation. Remember, you signed over complete control to me.”
“Seriously?” she asked, adding soap to her mug and washing it by hand. “It’s my kitchen. I at least need to be prepared. And for the record, I signed it over to you for wingman assistance, and I ended up with a slobbering dude who kissed like a dog.”
He pointed at Bob. “Apologize.”
“Sorry, sweetie,” she said, scratching the dog behind the ears. “No offense.”
“Not my fault you picked the wrong guy,” Scott said. “I just told you how to reel ’em in; I didn’t tell you to reel that one in.”
“Fair enough. Better luck this time, right?”
She started for the stairs, intending to finish getting ready for the day when Scott’s fingers wrapped lightly around her wrist, halting her movement.
“Who’s the guy? For your coffee thing?”
Her mouth went a little dry, and it took her a full ten seconds to remember what he was talking about—where she was heading.
“I was at Citarella yesterday, waiting in line for their roast chicken, which by the way is amazing—”
He rolled his finger for her to get to the good stuff.
“Right. Anyway, there was this guy behind me in line. It was crazy crowded so we were waiting forever and got to talking. He’s a widower, and we kind of hit it off. He asked me to coffee.”
“You’re into this guy? Coffee in the middle of the day is first-date stuff, not booty-call stuff.”
“Wait, what? You mean