Love on Lexington Avenue(28)

The bartender nodded and, pulling one of those jumbo-size bottles of wine out of the ice rack under the bar, filled her glass to the brim. The wine was mediocre, but she’d take whatever liquid courage she could get.

“All right, sis,” Scott said, lowering his voice. “Anyone here fit your hoity-toity criteria?”

“Well, it’s not exactly my kind of place,” she admitted. “But there is a guy a few seats to your left— No, don’t look!” she said, panicked, putting her hand on his arm. “Give it a minute. But he’s at your ten o’clock, blue suit, no tie. A little wrinkled, but like maybe he just got off a flight.”

Scott took his time glancing over, subtler than she’d have expected.

“Business traveler,” he agreed when he turned back. “Probably lives in one of the new high-rises in the area. You sure? He’s kind of . . . bro.” He pronounced it brah with an effected “cool guy” voice. “Like the guy who organized all his frat’s parties and actually liked it.”

“What’s wrong with that? I was in a sorority.”

“Shocking,” Scott said. “All right, fine. Let’s roll with the brah. He give you any looks, or is he too busy replaying his lacrosse glory days in his head?”

“We’ve made eye contact once,” she admitted, unable to keep the giddiness out of her voice. Who knew that being on the prowl was actually kind of . . . fun.

“Whoa, eye contact? Slow down there, tiger, keep your clothes on.”

“Don’t make fun. I’m new at this.”

“I know.” He smiled, and Claire noticed for the first that his eyes crinkled when he smiled—a real smile—and it was surprisingly attractive.

Just the light, Claire, she reminded herself. Fluorescent lighting just weirdly works for him.

“All right,” Scott said, swallowing the rest of his beer and pushing back his stool. “Let’s hope he caught my this is my sister announcement.”

“Wait!” She reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, fisting it her fingers. “You can’t leave me here!”

“Easy,” he murmured, gently untangling her fingers from his shirt. “Try to remember that I’m your brother. Clingy shirt grabbing is not going to sell the sibling vibe.”

“Right, okay.” She pulled her hand back. “But you still can’t leave me here!” she repeated.

“I’m just going to shoot some pool,” he said, nodding in thanks as Dave passed another beer across the bar without being asked.

“But I don’t know how to play pool.”

“We’ll tackle that another night—guys love to teach women how to play pool; you’ll have a dozen dying to bend you over the table. Just stay put.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t just sit here doing nothing.”

“You bring your phone?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Scroll through Pinterest or whatever. The more bored you look, the better. Look at pink kitchens, that should help.”

“This plan sucks. It’s rude to be on your phone in a restaurant,” Claire protested.

Scott leaned forward. “Look around.”

She did and saw what he saw. Nearly everyone had their phone out, even the ones in groups.

“I don’t particularly love the glued-to-the-screen vibe, either,” he muttered. “But it’ll be a good security blanket for you until you’re ready for the next level.”

“What’s the next level?”

“Sitting without your phone, perfectly content to be alone in a bar.”

“Is there a level beyond that?” Claire asked curiously.

Scott leaned in farther, speaking directly into her ear. “Sitting alone. No phone. And looking directly at a man as you let him know with your eyes what you want to do to him.”

Claire’s heart caught in her throat. She was exceptionally aware of Scott’s closeness, the warmth of his breath against the side of her face. He lingered for a second too long, but when he stepped back, the moment—if it even was one—was broken.

Claire felt a surge of relief. Being attracted to her contractor was not part of the plan.

“I’ll go with the cell phone plan,” she said on a rush.

He nodded knowingly. “Thought you might.” His eyes found hers. “You good?”

“Yeah!”

Scott lifted his eyebrows at her too-chipper tone.

“Okay, maybe a little nervous,” she admitted.

“Relax.” He nodded toward the pool tables. “I’ll be right over there. Or give Dave a look if things get weird. We go way back; he’s a good guy.”

“Got it. I’m good. I can do this,” she said, rubbing sweaty hands on her jeans and feeling like an inexperienced college girl, and not at all like an adult woman who’d been married.

“Yeah. You can.” Scott ambled away. Claire tracked his movements, noticed she wasn’t the only one, as several other women seemed to take note of the fact that Scott was suddenly fair game.

She forced her attention away from Scott and pulled out her iPhone to scroll through Pinterest. Even if he hadn’t suggested it, it’d been her time-killing go-to since she’d started the renovation planning on the house. She reluctantly archived her Kitchen board, realizing she no longer needed that since she’d traded her how-to-have-casual-sex training for creative control.