But he’d been nice enough to drive three hours to Coeur d’Alene on her behalf, and he’d offered her comfort through a difficult night. She couldn’t be so rude as to kick him out.
Bang, bang, bang. “Claire? You in there? It’s Laurel.”
She knew it was Laurel. That was part of the problem. What was she going to do?
“Why aren’t you getting the door?” Isaac looked at her again, this time with a hint of the shrewdness he usually exhibited.
“I’m debating whether to pretend I’m not home.”
“With my truck at the curb? If you don’t answer, whoever it is will think they caught us in the middle of something.”
But if she did answer, she’d have to explain about her visitor and she wasn’t quite sure how to do that.
“Claire?” he prompted.
“You’re right.” Not responding wasn’t an option. She realized it now that he’d put the alternative in perspective.
Scrambling off the bed, she ran her fingers through her hair, but there was no way to get it to lie properly without wetting it down. “This won’t look good,” she grumbled.
He met her eyes in the mirror. “You’re stressing over nothing.”
“I am? My best friend will think we’ve been…together.” And she’d never even mentioned him. Well, not recently. And not in any kind of positive light. Laurel would be offended if she thought Claire had a secret lover.
The bed squeaked as he shifted. “We have been together.”
“Not for years.”
“Unless you count three nights ago.”
“We’re not counting three nights ago. I—I’d just been conked on the head. Obviously, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“You seemed to know what you wanted.”
She ignored that. “And we didn’t really make love,” she added.
Resting his weight on his elbows, he cocked an eyebrow at her. “You were faking that orgasm?”
She whirled around to face him. “Stop it! Quit teasing me, especially because that—” her face flushed hot “—momentary lapse in judgment doesn’t count.”
His eyes narrowed. She should’ve taken that as a warning, but she was too frantic to heed it. “Those moans sounded pretty convincing to me.”
“Claire?” Laurel called. “Why aren’t you answering?”
“In the bathroom. Coming!” she yelled back. Then she gestured for him to get up. “Can you at least vacate my bed?”
He did as she asked but his dark scowl let her know he wasn’t happy about the way she was acting. “I don’t get why this is such an emergency. So she thinks we’re seeing each other. What difference does it make? We’re both single.”
“My husband just died.”
“A year ago! Does that mean you’re expected to be celibate for the rest of your life?”
“Not necessarily. But I’d rather not have everyone in town thinking I’m idiot enough to let you use me again.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Because, of course, that’s all I’m capable of.”
“Everyone knows you’re a player. You’ve made sure they know it.” She had to expose her underwear in order to pull on her jeans, but she was too nervous to wait for him to leave the room. It also seemed rather pointless after everything he’d already seen, and touched, over the years.
Her jeans were baggier than ever but she hoped he wouldn’t notice. She didn’t want him going on about the weight she’d lost. She’d heard enough about that already. “No need to have everyone trying to caution me against getting involved with you again.”
As she turned away to put on her bra and swap David’s T-shirt for a blouse of her own, she glanced over her shoulder to see that his eyes had gone flat. “You’re that convinced I’m a bad bet? That they know me better than you do? That I haven’t grown up in ten years?”
She wasn’t willing to take the chance. To her mind, his inadequacies had more to do with the type of person he was rather than his level of maturity. He’d been an adult since he was sixteen; that meant he’d grown up fast. But there was no time to argue. “Maybe if you hurry out to the salon, she’ll assume you’re here for a haircut.”
She’d never cut his hair before. She’d often wondered where he had it done. If the men in town didn’t come to her, they typically went to a barber in Libby, but Isaac’s hair looked too styled for a ten-dollar buzz-and-go.
“I’ll just head out the back.”
“No! You can’t slink away. Now that she’s seen your truck, she has to see you, too, and we have to act as if you’re no different from any other client.”
“I see.” That muscle twitched in his cheek again, but he strode into the hall that connected her house and salon without another word.
“You could’ve at least tried to make it look as though you hadn’t just rolled out of bed,” she muttered when he was gone, but she pasted a smile on her face and went to answer the door.
“What took you so long?” Laurel stood with her arms folded, keys in hand, suggesting she’d nearly given up.
“I’m sorry. Somehow I didn’t get your appointment in my day planner and double-booked myself.” Her laugh sounded awkward, even to her, but she hoped Laurel wouldn’t notice. “I was in the salon.”
Laurel seemed confused. “But I went to the salon. It was dark.”
“Oh, you must’ve arrived earlier than I thought. I offered Isaac a cup of coffee. We were probably in the kitchen.”
She chewed on her bottom lip as if she wasn’t quite mollified. “I saw his truck, of course, but…”
Claire put some extra wattage into her smile. “But?”
“I couldn’t figure out why he’d be here. I didn’t know he was a client. I’ve always gotten the impression you don’t like him.”
“I don’t have strong feelings for him one way or the other.”
The sound of a door closing made Claire’s heart skip a beat. It’d been soft, barely discernible. She was sure Laurel hadn’t heard. But she cringed to think Isaac might’ve picked up on what she’d just said. She was fighting her attraction to him; she wasn’t out to mistreat him. Especially after he’d been so nice to her these past few days.
“Do you want me to come back later?” Laurel asked. “If you’re too busy…”