claire
I peerup at my rearview mirror to watch Rowan pulling in behind me. Then I switch to the side mirror when he gets out of his truck with his overnight bag and walks over to wait for me like an obedient puppy.
He lets out a measured exhale as he stands by patiently, shivering and looking adorably nervous, and I feel an ache deep inside my chest. I might have been able to convince myself that I didn’t like him all that much before, back when I thought I’d never see him again, but I’m not fooling myself anymore.
Crushing on Rowan is also entirely too dangerous, especially since he has a knack for turning every conversation into a counseling session.
You’re not doing this again, Claire. Get your shit together.
I huff and roll my shoulders back, preparing myself to step back into the role of the tough, emotionally closed-off divorcée. I can’t keep letting him see Claire Bear, the soft, silly, self-conscious girl hiding behind the hard exterior.
“Are you really going to wait on me all night? You know I’m just messing with you now, don’t you?” I call out from inside my car, trying to set the tone.
He smirks and steps forward to open my door, and I swallow hard, pretending I’m unaffected.
“I actually don’t mind,” he begins, offering his hand, “Especially since watching you talk to yourself in the mirror might just be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” I gasp and reach out with my free hand to swat at him, but he absorbs the blow and laughs softly, refusing to loosen his grip on the hand he’s holding. “Besides, what else am I going to do if not wait for you to let me in?”
I roll my eyes, trying not to dwell on the physical contact we’re supposed to be avoiding or that he knows I needed to give myself a pep talk before facing him. But man is it hard not to squeal when he doesn’t let go of my hand until I tug it back to unlock the door.
Shit, what’s that code again?
“I can turn around if you don’t want me to see the combination, but I’d like to think you can trust me by now,” Rowan volunteers, stifling another laugh.
I click my tongue and punch in the numbers, grateful when I get it right on the first try this time. “I’m going to wash all this mud off,” I tell him as I stoop to pet the dogs. “Mind letting Frankie and Oscar out before you shower?”
“Got it,” he says, already crouching down to take my place. I toss my keys on the counter and move toward the hall, but he calls out and stops me. “Claire? Since we’ve agreed to be on our best behavior and all …”
I groan. “Do my pajamasreallybother you that much?”
He furrows his brow and nods. “I’m sorry. But, yeah, they really,reallydo.”
A huge smile spreads across my face, despite my best efforts to conceal it. “I’ll see what I can find.”
I can’t shake that stupid, silly shit-eating grin the whole time I’m in the shower, even though I nick the back of my knee shaving my legs. Like hell, I’m not coming out in something at least alittlesexy.
After assessing the damage, I decide against a Band-Aid because I’d be giving myself away again. I gather my wet hair into a messy bunand make sure I don’t have any leftover mascara lingering beneath my eyes before I venture out to put our muddy clothes washing.
Rowan stifles a whine when I enter the living room, but I’m afraid I’m the one whose breath stills at the sight of him. He’s fresh from the shower in a T-shirt and gym shorts, looking good enough to eat. More importantly, he’s wearing those gosh darn glasses as he reclines on my couch with both of my dogs in his lap.
I stop abruptly before I reach the sofa and cross my arms. “What do you think you’re doing?”
A panicked look crosses his face, and he pushes the dogs aside to stand. “Um, I’m sorry. I guess I was making myself at home, but I shouldn’t have assumed … Should I not have let them on the furniture?”
He glances back at Frankie and Oscar, who continue staring up at me without a care in the world.
“No, um, they’re fine,” I say, clearing my throat awkwardly. “I meant …” I let my explanation hang in the air and gesture over my face.
He furrows his brow and pushes his glasses up, most likely out of habit. Then I watch as the realization hits him, and he mirrors my pose, crossing his arms and tilting his head back as one side of his mouth turns up in a cocky smirk.
“Fair is fair, right,” he declares, allowing his eyes to run over me. My skin prickles with his gaze.
“But I didn’t even put on the slutty PJs this time,” I say with a pout.
He blinks back in surprise. “These aren’t the sexy ones?”
I scoff. “No, not really.” The black ribbed-knit tank top and matching shorts aren’t exactly modest, especially with the lettuce-edge curling the hem of the shorts up even higher, but it’s certainly not the skimpiest set I own.
He looks me up and down again before grunting and squinting his eyes closed. “I was wrong. You definitely have an unfairadvantage.”
