Page 14 of Falling into Place
He didn’t usually give a second thought to his clothes, so why he felt the need to defend himself was beyond him. “I only wear scrubs at work, and I don’t have time to shop. Even if I did, now that my sisters made me all self-conscious about it, I probably shouldn’t trust anything I might like—”
He stopped short when Carly laughed. It was one of those unexpected, full-bodied laughs, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard it before.
It slid across his skin like a cool breeze on a stifling summer day.
“Relax, I didn’t even notice what you were wearing,” she said.
But she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
The word slipped through his lips without thought. “Liar.”
She met his gaze and blinked. Her lips twitched, confirming his suspicion, and even though he should probably be offended, he had the strangest urge to smile. This felt familiar, like the other night when he’d sat with his sisters.
Another tiny piece of pressure slipped from his shoulders, and he shook his head slowly, feigning astonishment. “Shouldn’t this be a safe place? An honest environment between expert and client?”
She cupped her hands around the speckled ceramic mug. “Do you really want to do this now? I’d planned on easing you in.”
He met her gaze straight on. When a new patient was admitted to his service, he had to figure out how bad things were before he could come up with a treatment plan. “Straightforward is best. I can take it.”
Her left brow arched as she regarded him. Finally she sighed, seeming resigned. “It’s the jeans.”
The hell was wrong with these jeans? Macy had mentioned them, too. “What about them?”
“They’re one, maybe two sizes too big. I see zero indication there’s an ass anywhere in there.”
He was so focused on them (hisfavoritepair) he nearly missed the second part of what she said. “Do ... do I want people to see my ass?”
“One like that, yes.” Other than the slight pink tint to her cheeks, she seemed perfectly professional and matter of fact as she said it. Businesslike.
Wait. “You looked at my ass?”
“Tried to,” she said, unapologetic. “It’s part of my job.”
He was almost flattered, an emotion he hadn’t experienced in years and that wasn’t altogether unpleasant, until she added, “But as I said, I’m still not sure what I’m working with.”
He watched her for a beat, unsure what to make of where this conversation had gone. And who it was with. “You’re ... not what I expected.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you were shy.”
“Quiet,” she corrected. “I used to be quiet, but I’ve never been shy.” She took a sip of her latte. “You’ll see.”
The way she tossed out those final two words felt like a grenade thrown into his lap, and she waved a hand as if ready to move on. “We’ll talk more about pants later. Were you able to finish that questionnaire I sent?”
Still stuck a few seconds back on thequiet, not shypart, because same, he slid a hand across his mouth. “Yeah, I submitted it online, was that okay?”
She nodded and slid an iPad from the leather binder, then tapped the screen a few times. “Found you.”
He nursed his coffee for a few moments while she scrolled through, trying to read her facial expressions. There were many, but he didn’t know her well enough to interpret any of them.
Finally she nodded, which seemed universally a positive thing. “Height, weight, pant, shirt, and shoe sizes. Have you ever had formal measurements done? Like for a suit or a tailored dress shirt?”
“Not since Macy’s wedding, which was almost ten years ago.”
“That’s fine.” She made a note in the notebook to her left. “Color preferences include mostly neutrals, which is great. Classic, really.” Hereyes flicked to his face, studying him. Just when he began to fidget under her perusal, she asked, “How do you feel about green?”
“Fine?”
