His Best Friend's Wife (Bachelor Best Friends 2)

Propped on one arm beside her in his bed, Evan reached out to stroke a strand of hair from her cheek. “Going to tell your coworkers you took their advice?”

Her laugh changed to a rueful grimace. “Not exactly.”

“Just curious.”

She started to turn her head toward the nightstand, but he caught her jaw to prevent her from doing so. “Don’t check the clock yet. You still have some time.”

“I do have to get home soon,” she reminded him. “Lucy will worry if I’m late.”

A frown flickered over his face at the mention of Lucy’s name. Renae now expected him and Lucy to scowl at any mention of the other, which was rather annoying.

“You and Lucy have no plans to set up separate households again anytime soon?” he asked, his tone a bit too casual.

“We’ve never discussed it.”

“I understand why she moved in to help with the twins when they were babies, but now that they’re older, it seems like you’d both want your own places. I mean, how old is Lucy—sixty, sixty-one?”

“She’s fifty-nine.”

“Even younger than I thought. She was young when the twins were born—still is, really. Doesn’t she want a social life of her own? Don’t you?”

“We’ve had a good life,” Renae said, hearing a note of defensiveness in her voice. “Those first couple of years were tough, of course, and we stayed incredibly busy with the babies. Daniel had some health problems as a newborn, and he needed a lot of care. By the time things settled down, we’d gotten into a comfortable routine. Lucy has her friends and activities at church. I have my friends, and my Wednesday evenings on my own. It works for us.”

He shook his head. “Just seems like it would feel like living with your mother at thirty.”

“I suppose it does,” she said softly. “I barely remember living with my mother, but Lucy has been like a mom to me almost since we met. We disagree sometimes, but for the most part we get along amazingly well.”

“That’s great, I guess,” he said, hardly convinced, “but it still seems like having her there would limit your social activities.”

She shrugged. “My activities are more limited by my six-year-old twins than by my mother-in-law.”

He thought about that for a moment. “I can see that,” he acknowledged. “Even if Lucy didn’t live with you, I doubt you’d want to bring a man home after a date when you’ve got young kids in the house.”

“It hasn’t really been an issue. There haven’t been many dates, and there was no one I wanted to bring home afterward.”

Realizing it was a very strange conversation to be having at that particular time—not to mention while lying naked in Evan’s bed—she rolled to look at the clock despite his earlier objection. He was right, she did have a little time yet. But now she was self-conscious.

Evan was still focused on her social life, for some reason. “Does Lucy object to you dating?”

“Of course not.” Perhaps she’d spoken with a bit more force than necessary, but she assured herself it was the truth. Maybe Lucy wasn’t enthusiastic about Renae dating, but she had never actually objected.

“And if she knew you were here with me? What would she say?”

Renae couldn’t quite suppress her grimace. “I think you already know the answer to that, Evan.”

His face was suddenly grim. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

She didn’t understand why Evan kept pushing the subject of Lucy’s antipathy toward him. He knew very well how Lucy felt, and he should understand why, even if he didn’t agree with her. And he had to know that Renae’s loyalties lay with the woman who had been such a vital part of her little family for all these years. It wasn’t as if he and she were seriously involved anyway. She didn’t know exactly what they were doing, but she figured the fire would burn out soon enough.

She reached for Evan’s discarded shirt, wrapping it around herself as she slid out of the bed. Evan didn’t try to detain her, but she felt him watching her as she gathered her clothes and padded toward the bathroom.

Evan must have ducked into the half bathroom while Renae dressed. She could smell food when she walked out of his bedroom, leaving his shirt folded on the end of the bed. He was always feeding her—it was rather sweet of him, actually.

This time Evan hadn’t stopped for takeout. Renae’s eyes widened when she saw the table. “You cooked?”

Evan looked a little sheepish. “I got home early this afternoon. Had a little extra time. It’s just spaghetti with meat sauce and garlic bread. Nothing fancy.”

“You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”