Love on Lexington Avenue(13)

Her Manhattan friends, the group she’d once been the center of, had slowly disappeared. Claire knew it wasn’t malicious. She’d been in their shoes. When Kristen Seymour and her husband had separated, Claire had tried to include Kristen just as before, but eventually her friend had somehow sort of slipped away. Just like Claire had.

And if she were being honest, Claire couldn’t be entirely sure she hadn’t brought some of it upon herself. Had she pulled back? Changed? Or was it that her newfound cynicism just didn’t fit in around married couples?

Regardless, she wasn’t sure she would have survived this past year without Naomi and Audrey. Whether it was because of their shared experience with Brayden or just three women finding each other at exactly the right time, Audrey and Naomi felt more like sisters than friends, and had from the very beginning.

Case in point, Naomi was with Oliver now, but unlike Claire’s other coupled-up friends, Naomi hadn’t drifted away. If anything, their friendship had become more rock-solid since Naomi and Oliver had gotten together, plus there was an added bonus of Claire now counting Oliver as a good friend.

Claire was hanging up her keys on the hook by the front door when she heard a thump from upstairs, followed by a muttered masculine curse. She paused, half thinking about going upstairs to see if Scott was okay, but deciding better of it. If she went dashing after him at every crash and bump, it was going to be a long few months. It was already going to be a long few months, she realized as she eyed the pencil markings all along the walls on her way to the kitchen. Most were numbers, although the wall to her left simply had an unceremonious X.

Claire had just poured herself a glass of water and was in the process of setting the paint swatches she and the girls had settled on next to her tile samples when Scott came into the kitchen.

She glanced up briefly, then did a double take. The flannel he’d arrived in yesterday morning was nowhere to be seen, and instead the man wore only a white T-shirt with his jeans. A very fitted white T-shirt.

He was more muscular than she’d expected. Yesterday she’d thought him lean, and he was. But seeing the way his arms filled out the sleeves of his shirt, it was obvious he was also strong. Not in a gym rat way, but in a masculine, I put this body to good use sort of way.

The lumberjack comparison was increasingly apt. As was the alpha part.

“What?” he asked gruffly, going to her cupboard and helping himself to a glass of water.

Claire realized her gaze had been lingering a little too long. She blamed it on the champagne and looked back down at her paint swatches, pretending indifference. “Nothing.”

He finished his water in three gulps, then set the glass down on the counter next to the stack of mail on her counter. Unabashed, he used a single finger to move the top item of mail aside, then another.

“You had a birthday.”

“Obviously.”

He leaned back against the counter and studied her. “How old are you?”

“No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend,” she mused without looking up.

His eyebrows lifted. “Who says I don’t?”

“Um, everything about you?” If he wasn’t going to be polite, why should she bother?

“It’s not like I asked your weight,” he said, clearly trying to provoke her.

“You know,” she said, still not glancing up, “for a man who seems determined to give off unsociable, taciturn vibes, you sure are chatty.”

“Just trying to figure you out, since we’re stuck with each other for the foreseeable future.”

Good luck with that. I haven’t even figured myself out.

Claire shifted in her chair to face him. “Don’t worry, I have good news. I’ve already got a read on you. Let me guess. You have no sisters, your mother subscribed to the boys-will-be-boys model, and you have no serious relationship to show for it?”

“Right, wrong, wrong,” he replied without hesitation.

He turned and unzipped the small cooler he’d brought with him, giving Claire’s brain a chance to catch up as he pulled a sandwich out of a Ziploc and took a bite.

“No sisters, awesome mom, and . . . serious girlfriend?” She amended her guess, wondering if Naomi had been wrong about his commitment-phobe status.

“No sisters, no mom, and one fiancée.”

Claire blinked rapidly. Naomi had gotten it really wrong.

“When’s the wedding?” she asked.

“What?” He balled up the Ziploc and shoved it back into the cooler as he polished off the last bite. “Oh. No. Former fiancée.”

“Ah.”

He gave her a knowing look. “Go ahead. Say it.”

“Say what?”

He turned back toward her, crossing his arms. “That you’re not surprised.”

Claire frowned, not loving that he was more perceptive than he seemed.

“I’m sorry your relationship didn’t work out.” Her voice sounded stiff, even to her own ears.

“I’m not.”

“You’re not . . . sorry that your relationship ended?”

“Nope.” There was a curtness to his tone, and Claire found herself intrigued in spite of herself. However, she’d only known the guy a little over twenty-four hours. She couldn’t very well go prying into the most painful parts of his past.