Clay's Hope (15 page)

I ducked down and watched them in the narrow
strip at the bottom of the window. Gabby didn’t look upset, just in
a hurry. Probably because Dale still hadn’t left.

“He’s a handy guy, then?” Dale asked as he
grabbed the potatoes and set them in the trunk, a move that brought
him closer to Gabby.

I shifted my paw into a hand, ready to open
the door if need be.

“Yes, very,” Gabby said. Her pulse remained
steady, indicating she believed what she said. I wanted to shift
fully but not because of the man outside.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” he
said.

Gabby met my gaze and rolled her eyes.
Although she found the man’s attempts at courting her humorous, I
did not.

“Gabby,” she said, closing the trunk.
“Thanks for helping me with the groceries, but I need to get going.
My dog’s been in the car for a while already.”

Gabby swiftly shoved the cart into the empty
space beside us and turned toward her door. She hadn’t been fast
enough. Dale now stood between her and the car door. I hopped from
the back seat to the driver’s seat, ready to let myself out and
remove the man.

“We have an opening at the shop,” I heard
him say. “If your boyfriend’s looking for work, send him by. We’ll
see how good he is.”

I wanted to laugh. Whether or not he was
serious, I’d be seeing Dale again soon.

Oblivious that I was now in the driver’s
seat, he opened the door for her. I growled a low warning. He
looked down at me in surprise and backed up a step.

Gabby was quick to get in and pull the door
from his loose hold. She had the engine started and was pulling
away before the man thought to move again.

“Well, that was a challenge if I ever heard
one,” she said as she reached over to pet my head.

Human men weren’t a challenge; they were an
annoyance. But, that one might just be helpful.

“However, no challenges until you fix the
sink,” she said with a smile.

When we got back to the house, Gabby grabbed
the things from the trunk and carried them into the house.

“You go shower while I unpack. Then you can
look at the sink and see if we can avoid calling that big-headed
plumber back.”

I went to the bathroom, shifting just after
I rounded the corner. Gabby hadn’t followed me after that first
time. I turned on the water and let it warm before stepping in.

A few minutes later, Gabby tapped on the
door.

“I’m coming in, so please stay behind the
curtain.”

I grinned and rinsed the shampoo from my
hair as I waited for her to gather the courage to open the door. It
took several heartbeats.

“I have some clothes for you. Better stuff
for looking at a sink than what I bought yesterday.” She paused a
moment. “Clay, I’m so sorry. I’m being rude and making
assumptions.” She took a deep breath. “Will you look at the sink?
Please?” She was teasing me. I could hear the laughter in her
voice. I cupped my hands under the water then squeezed them
together, aiming the squirt of water over the curtain.

“Ok, ok. I’ll just leave the stuff here on
the floor. If something doesn’t fit,” she said, her voice taking on
a nervous pitch, “or you don’t like it, leave the tags on it, and
we’ll take it back. I guessed on the shoes. Some of the stuff isn’t
for now, but I figured you could try it on.”

Why was she so nervous? Beyond the curtain,
I heard a rustle of clothes. Was she taking back what she’d gotten
me? My curiosity had me turning off the water.

She squeaked and fled the bathroom. I
chuckled and pushed aside the curtain. On the toilet, she’d laid
out socks, those tight underwear, a pair of jeans, and a t-shirt. A
pair of grey and blue running shoes waited on the floor beside the
toilet. All of it new.

First the car guy, now clothes. Finally,
things were falling into place for me.

I eagerly dressed but left off the shoes and
shocks. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere and didn’t want to
dirty anything more than I needed to. Everything fit well. She’d
done a good job guessing at my size. Maybe she’d been paying more
attention to me in my skin than she’d let on.

Grinning, I stepped out of the bathroom. But
Gabby wasn’t there. Curious, I checked the kitchen. Not there
either.

I peeked in her room and saw her sewing a
flannel shirt. It was large. Too big for her. The ache in my chest
surged. She was sewing my shirt. I quickly left before I did
something stupid, like tackle her with a hug.

From the basement, I grabbed a few of the
tools I’d collected, then went back upstairs to work on the faucet.
It wasn’t too complex. The handle seemed as if it was simply
loose.

I leaned closer, studying how the handle was
connected. Behind me, I heard Gabby walk into the kitchen and
pause. She didn’t say anything or move, and it took all my effort
to remain focused on the sink. Did she like the clothes? Did she
like seeing me in my skin again?

Finally, she moved. I listened to her walk
to the fridge, open it, then walk to the table and set a few things
down. Her movement stirred the air enough that I caught the subtle
change in her scent. Interest. In me.

My canines grew larger. With care, I set
down the wrench I’d been using. It took all my willpower to walk
past her and go down into the basement where I stood for a full
minute, shaking. I listened to her steps on the floor above me. If
she had any idea what she’d just done...I closed my eyes, took a
deep breath, and ran my tongue over my teeth, willing them
smaller.

It helped calm the shaking, but the teeth
didn’t budge. I went to the small pile of tools and grabbed the
Allen wrenches I’d acquired. Unable to stay away from her any
longer, I headed back up the stairs.

Gabby glanced at me when I reappeared.

“The shoes didn’t fit?” she asked as she
moved to the potatoes on the table.

I shrugged, having no idea if they fit.
Shoes were the last thing on my mind. As I walked past her, I
inhaled her scent again, needing to know if the interest had been a
fleeting thing. It was still there, a light and fragile sweetness
added to her already enticing scent.

“So they fit, but you didn’t want to wear
them?”

How did she know me so well? Because we were
meant for each other.

I bent to the sink again and started
checking which size Allen wrench I needed. Behind me, she shifted
in her chair, and I listened to the rasp of the peeler as she
removed the potato’s skin.

“Did you like them, or should we take them
back?”

Return them? I almost straightened from the
sink, but she kept talking in a rush.

“I wasn’t sure what style you liked. There
were several different colors. They’re cheap shoes, but I figured
it was better than walking around barefoot in the snow. That’s got
to be cold, even for you.”

She was worried I didn’t like the shoes. I
turned and looked at her. Interest and now concern.

“I just don’t want you to think you have to
keep them if you don’t like them. It won’t hurt my feelings if we
take them back. Just wear the flip flops for now, and you can come
in with me next time and pick out what you like.”

She quickly stood and went to the stove.

While her back was turned, I used my speed
to get the shoes and socks from the bathroom. I couldn’t tell her I
hadn’t wanted to put them on and risk wrecking them before I had a
chance to use them to get a job. But if I didn’t do something to
show that I liked them, she’d take them back. There was no way I’d
surrender a single item she picked out for me. Not even the
underwear.

I sat in the kitchen chair, put on the
socks, and was in the middle of tying the shoes when she turned
again.

“No, no, no, Clay,” she said in a rush as
she moved toward me. “I wasn’t saying you
had
to wear
them.”

I knew that. But I also knew they were a
gift from her, and by not wearing them right away, I’d hurt her
feelings.

“It’s okay to bring them back if you don’t
like them.”

I finished tying, stood, and looked down at
my feet. The shoes hugged the sides of my feet, but I had room to
move my toes. They were much more comfortable than the ruined
boots. Gabby remained where she was, and I was certain her gaze
never left me. I wanted to look up, but I didn’t trust myself.
Instead, I moved to finish working on the sink.

“You like shoes, but you don’t wear them
much. Right?”

I shrugged again, wanting her to keep
talking to me, but she turned back to the stove and fell silent.
She didn’t seem upset by anything so the quiet wasn’t
uncomfortable. In fact, it seemed pretty typical of our time
together. Sometimes, she didn’t feel like talking. I didn’t mind
those quiet moments with her.

The aroma of bacon, eggs, and potatoes had
my mouth watering, and I couldn’t wait to eat. I finished the
faucet and tested the work, happy to see a full stream of
water.

“Good to have a handyman,” she said.

She’d called me a man. I wanted to pick her
up and spin with her in my arms. Instead, I took the tools back
downstairs and spent another minute trying to calm down.

When I returned, she had two plates on the
table. She already sat at one side. My gut clenched. Our first real
meal together.

I sat across from her, kept my eyes on my
plate, and dug in. I nearly groaned. The bacon was loose just as I
liked it, the eggs runny, and the potatoes crisp with bacon grease.
I used my napkin often, worried I would have a yolk trail in my
beard; Gabby liked me clean.

“What are the chances of trimming that
beard?” Gabby asked.

I slowly wiped my mouth as I tried to figure
out why she was asking. If she didn’t like it, she would have asked
about shaving it off. She’d said trim. Did she still think I looked
like a crazy man? No, she’d told Rachel that was her first
impression of me, not the current one. I decided to be honest about
the reason behind the beard. It hid things, like my smiles when she
was around...and my teeth.

Pulling my lips back, I flashed my smile at
her. She froze for a second, her fork suspended in midair, and I
detected a hint of fear. I closed my lips to hide my elongated
canines and focused on my food again.

“Do they stay like that all the time?” she
asked.

I debated if I should answer. She’d been
afraid just seeing them. But she was asking questions. About me.
Getting to know me. I wanted that. We needed it. But how could I
explain why my teeth were big without scaring her more?

Taking my last bite, I stood and moved to
the sink while I tried to decide if I should answer her
question.

Abandoning her food, she followed me and
leaned against the counter. Though I didn’t look at her, I knew she
was still studying me.

“Is this something you don’t want to talk
about?”

I shrugged.

“Is it something I need to guess, or can you
explain it to me?”

She really wanted to know.

I glanced at her, wondering how I could
explain it. My teeth were always out around her. It was worse when
she gave me signs that she was starting to like me. Care for me.
Her interest in me really hit hard. How could I show her that her
nearness was the influence? The answer was crazy simple—show her
that she could make it even more pronounced.

Slowly washing my plate and fork, I
considered how she would react if I scented her, nose to skin. She
moved away from the sink to grab her dishes. I went to the stove
and washed that while I debated her possible reactions. There was
only one way to know for sure.

I returned to the sink where she rinsed her
plate. Her calm posture reassured me. Setting the washrag aside, I
leaned against the counter and crossed my arms as I waited for her
to finish.

We stood just a few inches apart, and when
she turned to me, I could see the gold flecks in her light brown
eyes. We watched each other for several moments. Her eyes dipped to
my chest, and I saw her interest again. If she kept this up, I’d
need to leave and lose a perfect opportunity to get closer. Yeah,
not going to happen.

I uncrossed my arms and leaned toward her.
Panic filled the air, and she froze. I inhaled, reminding myself I
needed to be careful. I shook my head, trying to tell her not to
worry, and pulled back.

Her throat moved with a hard swallow.

“You’re trying to explain the teeth, right?”
Fear still laced her words.

I nodded.

She studied me again, and slowly, the panic
faded and interest returned. She took a deep breath.

“It’s okay then. Go ahead, explain. I’ll
behave,” she said.

I grinned and knew she’d caught me when her
gaze dropped to my mouth. Maybe I needed a bigger beard.

Carefully, I leaned forward again. She
didn’t flinch away, and her scent remained clear of fear. As I
neared, my teeth grew in anticipation. If she were my kind, I would
bite her neck, Claim her, and end the waiting. But she wasn’t my
kind. She needed to bite me.

I didn’t stop my approach until my nose
almost touched her skin. Then, I inhaled deeply. Ah, what she did
to me. I gripped the counter to steady myself and hoped she didn’t
notice.

She stiffened as I exhaled, and her pulse
spiked. Even with fear flooding her, her scent called to me. I
inhaled once more and lifted my head, exhaling as I went.

I was inches from her lips and so tempted.
Would she still run? Had I given her enough time?

No. Her eyes were wide with fear and
uncertainty. She still didn’t trust that we were meant to be
together.

I pulled back my lips, finishing what I’d
started...an explanation for the beard.

She studied me, and slowly her pulse
calmed.

“So, when you’re around me, they’re worse? I
guess that means they’re like that all the time.”