Love on Lexington Avenue - Lauren Layne Page 0,37
he didn’t invite me to coffee to hump in the Starbucks bathroom?!”
He laughed. “Jesus.”
Claire patted his arm. “Don’t worry, wingman. This guy lost his wife fairly recently. I’m pretty sure he just wants someone to talk to, not the future Mrs. McDonald.”
Claire had known the second the silver fox behind her in line had started chatting her up that he was flirting, but there’d been a sweet awkwardness to it that belied his forty-something age. She’d have bet that maybe he was doing just as Oliver had encouraged her to do. Practice.
And since she was still in need of a little practice with flirting herself, she’d agreed to meet him. Plus, who knew, maybe Carter McDonald was looking for the same thing as her—no strings. It didn’t hurt that he’d been exactly her type. Clean-cut and polished. His polo shirt had been Burberry, his watch Rolex. Not that it was about labels. She wasn’t that much of a snob. But she was allowed to have her fantasies, and she was fully okay admitting that hers was a Christian Grey–millionaire vibe, minus the whole spanking thing.
Scott shrugged and dropped her wrist. Claire’s arm fell back to her side, and she was acutely aware of the coolness on her skin where his fingers had been. “But if I do hump him in the Starbucks bathroom,” she said, “I’ll be sure and tell you all about it.”
“Please don’t.” There was a smile in his voice.
She headed toward the door, pausing in the entryway, resting her hand on the doorjamb as she turned back. “Oh, I didn’t ask. Which one did you go home with?”
“What?” He was helping himself to more coffee.
“The girls at the bar on Saturday. Did you go home with the blonde or brunette? Both were super pretty.”
Scott took his time putting the coffee carafe back in its place before picking up his mug once more.
His eyes flicked up to hers. “Neither. Went home alone.”
“Oh. Well. I guess we both struck out then. Better luck next time.”
He gave a noncommittal nod, and Claire headed upstairs. She frowned halfway up, her hand on the railing, as she tried to figure out why she felt so relieved that Scott’s Saturday night had worked out as it had.
And why, suddenly, she didn’t feel as excited about her upcoming “date.”
Scott’s head was under her kitchen sink when Claire got home a few hours later. Her ancient garbage disposal had been a real pain in the ass, but with a final twist of the wrench, he finally got the damn thing free, grunting in satisfaction just as he felt a slight tap at the bottom of his foot.
Placing both hands on the edge of the cupboard, he levered himself out, found Claire staring at her kitchen in bemused dismay. “How long was I gone?”
“Told you I was fast,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel. “My guys do good work.”
“But where’d the wall go?”
“It was shitty drywall. Came off in big flimsy pieces, the guys took it with ’em when they left.”
“It looks so different,” she said, walking gingerly around the dusty, newly opened-up floor plan.
“Well, take it all in now. It’s the last view you’ll get until it’s done.”
“How do you figure? I live here.”
“Starting tomorrow, the kitchen’s off-limits until I’m finished. I don’t want you getting all freaked out, trying to race in here with your raspberry ice paint samples.”
“Aha! So you’ve looked at my paint samples.”
“Absolutely. I gave a real long look as I was tossing them in the trash. And I’m not lying. The kitchen’s off-limits while I work.”
“All right,” she said, surprising him with her easy agreement. Then again, he didn’t know why he was surprised. That seemed to be her MO. She was both unbearably complicated and bafflingly easygoing.
He thought about standing, but he wasn’t quite done with his work under the sink, so instead he hauled his knees up and rested his elbows on them as he looked up at her. “So. Did we end our dry streak with a little afternoon delight?”
“None of your business.” She dragged a fingertip along the counter, then wrinkled her nose when it came away covered in drywall dust.
He tossed the towel up to her, and she gingerly wiped her finger.
“Thought you were going to tell me all about it,” he said, not entirely sure why he was pressing on something he didn’t really want to know.
She sighed. “Okay. Fine. It was weird.”
Scott looked up at her, sensing she needed to talk