Love on Lexington Avenue - Lauren Layne Page 0,56

so, too, until I saw your place. My style is amateur hour compared to this. Don’t worry, I promise to clean up all my drool before I leave on Thursday. The kitchen, specifically. I cannot wait to eat real food again. I’m going to work that stove over so hard . . .”

Scott had started to refill his water glass, paused a moment, then put the glass back down without drinking it. “You need anything else? I’ll get out of your hair if not.”

“Oh.” She was a little surprised at the abrupt announcement, and maybe a little disappointed. Things had just been finally getting back to normal between them, as though the kiss had never happened, as though she hadn’t come very close to breaking down on him last Thursday night before her date with Brett.

She didn’t regret any of the things she’d said though. She’d needed to voice it, needed to admit that she hadn’t yet healed from Brayden. And going out with Brett had been the right decision. He’d been a perfect gentleman. They’d talked about movies over dinner, debated whose pasta dish was the more decadent, even shared a dessert at the end. It had been all perfectly lovely first-date stuff, and when he’d casually asked her back to his place at the end of the night, she’d said . . .

No.

She hadn’t been ready for that, but one day she would be.

Brett had smiled, thanked her for a lovely evening, and kissed her cheek before hailing her a cab. He said he’d call her again, and maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. Claire wasn’t entirely sure she cared either way, but she did know that it had been an important first step toward moving on with her life.

“Grocery store,” she said, realizing she hadn’t responded to his question if she needed anything. “You have one nearby you’d recommend? If not, I can check Maps on my phone.”

“What are you shopping for? Basics? Meat?”

“Well, coffee creamer, for starters,” she said with a smile. “I forgot to grab mine from the mini fridge at home.”

Scott opened his full-size fridge. It was mostly empty, but there was the unmistakable label of her favorite coffee flavoring on the shelf.

She looked at him in surprise, and he just shrugged. “The housekeeper also keeps me stocked with a few basics, so I at least have eggs and stuff when I’m here. I asked her to pick some up.”

He said it as though it were no big deal, and maybe it wasn’t. The bottle only cost a few bucks. But that he’d thought of it said . . . plenty.

He’s just a nice guy, she reminded herself. Naomi had told her as much. Thoughtful gestures did not a grand statement make, at least as far as Scott was concerned.

“Okay, so then I guess it’s just dinner stuff I need,” she said. “I was thinking of maybe doing a steak on the stove. With a potato. Or pasta. Just basic stuff.”

“Get the steak at Esposito’s. It’s a longer walk, but you won’t regret it.” He named another store for the rest of the shopping list, then pointed at a built-in wine rack. “Help yourself to that. I’m more of a beer/whisky guy, but I’ve collected some decent bottles of red over the years if you’re interested.”

She was, although she realized for a painful moment she longed to share it with someone. For all her determination not to get her heart broken again, she was starting to realize that her decision meant a lot of nights alone in the future.

“You think of anything else, I’m a text away.”

“Thanks,” she said, walking with him to the front door, feeling awkward that she was the one staying behind in his house, with his dog, drinking his wine. But grateful all the same.

“Anytime.” He opened the door, then shut it again when Bob made a huffing noise. “Sorry, girl.” He bent down to scratch the dog’s neck. Claire smiled, noting the way he pet Bob was entirely different than the way she did. She gently rubbed Bob’s ears and softly scratched her belly. And though Bob seemed to like it well enough, it was obvious the dog relished Scott’s firmer no-nonsense rubs.

“Take her with you,” Claire said, noting the distraught look on Bob’s face when she sensed she wouldn’t be going with Scott. “I refuse to be responsible for those sad eyes.”

“She’ll be fine,” Scott said with one last scratch of his dog’s neck, standing once more. “She’s