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“So, you’re gonna meet him at some nice, busy coffee shop to discuss his options?”
“No, I told him I’d stop by his house later.”
Clay and Carine shared a look.
Valerie rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. “Get away from my car. Carine, you stay here and have fun with Mr. Innuendo. I swear you’re like a couple of teenagers blowing things out of proportion just because you’re nasty. He needs a competent architect’s opinion, and I happen to be asuperbarchitect.”
Clay snorted and pushed his rock star, morning-after hair out of his eyes. Apparently, he’d lost the elastic that had held his ponytail. “So, you’re just doin’ it ’cause you can’t back down from a challenge, huh?”
“That sounds like a very male problem, and I don’t have it. I simply didn’t have anything else to do tonight, and I can be nice when I want to be.”
And maybe a small part of her hoped that being nice, she could sample a few more of Tim’s no-strings-attached carnal favors. She was curious about his repertoire, made more so by her remembering what he’d said about how pantyhose impeded his easy access. She wasn’t quite sure what he meant. Pantyhose didn’t take that long to take off, and most men were fine with waiting the ten seconds—twenty seconds if she was concerned about runs.
Carine gave her a sarcastic nod.
“Find your own ride home. Move.” Valerie shooed her away from the door and plopped into her driver’s seat.
Carine huffed. “I’m gonna wait for the wrecker, I guess. You gonna drive me home, Clay?”
“Nope. Can’t. I’ve got a couple of holdovers in my house I need rouse and send on their way. I usually would have kicked them out hours ago, but…” He rocked back on the heels again and grinned. “They were fun to watch. So, so flexible.Mmm.”
“No wonder you’re tired,” Valerie muttered. “Carine, call for the tow truck. I’ll follow you to the shop and drive you home.”
“You’re my best friend. You know that?”
“That’s not a good thing. I’ve only been here for six months. How did you survive until I came?”
“I relied on the kindness of assholes like Clay.” Carine leered at him and put her cell phone to her ear. She walked away, explaining the situation to the roadside assistance dispatcher.
Clay leaned into Valerie’s open window still wearing that troublesome grin.
“Are you drunk or something?” she asked.
“Nope. Just amused. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve been this amused.”
“What’s so amusing? That Carine would be so attached to a little wind-up car that should have been taken out of commission five years ago, or that you’ll be going back into your den of depravity to gaze upon the splendor of a couple of naked people in your bed?”
“For a chick who wears nude pantyhose with squishy shoes, you sure pegged me right.”
“The hose are a habit you can thank my grandmother for. They conceal my panty lines, should I happen to be wearing panties.”
He pushed up an eyebrow.
“And I wear those shoes on boggy job sites because I learned very early on that stiletto heels sink into the ground, and that I looked really unintelligent trying to walk in them atop sod. It’s either the Crocs, fancy sneakers, or steel-toed boots. They’d all look equally bad, so I always choose the least of the evils. I’m practical that way.”
She lifted her left leg, propped her flip-flop-clad foot atop the windowsill, and pointed to her shoe. “Don’t judge me by my footwear. You don’t know what’s in my closet.” She let her gaze track down to his bare feet. “Just like I don’t know what’s in yours.”
“Touché on my ass, then. Remind me not to pick an argument with you.”
She shrugged and put down her foot. “I generally know what I’m doing.”
“That applies to whatever you’ve got going on with Tim, too, right?”
“Are we back to that again? What is it that you and Carine are beating the bush about? Spit it out.”
“Fine. I don’t reckon Tim will get too pissed if I tell you. Everyone knows half his business, anyway.” Clay leaned his forearms onto the windowsill and ground his molars for a few beats. “Look. He doesn’t really date anymore for a bunch of different reasons.”
“And that’s why he comes here?”
