Everlong (10 page)

“We can’t just,” I gasped. “There are customers out there and they might need me.”

“I need you more than they do.” His lips rejoined mine, kissing me once, twice.

I wanted to believe him, but how could I? I couldn’t forgive myself if I took advantage of him while my body coursed with pheromones designed to make him act this way. I broke away from him, needing space to clear my head.

The shop’s bell tinkled, followed by the low hum of eager, excited voices.

Relieved by the interruption, I seized the opportunity with both hands. “What is all that noise? One of us needs to go find out.” I walked towards the hall, but his muscular arm braced across the doorway and blocked me inside the kitchen.

“It sounds almost like…” He stuck his head out to look around the corner. “It is.” He sighed and adjusted a bulge in his pants that hadn’t been there moments before. My gaze darted away quickly. Not that I had been looking. “Oh, hell, it’s a busload of kids. I see a couple dozen and they’re still coming.”

Clayton thumped his forehead against the wooden trim of the doorway. His expression turned so dire, I grinned. I couldn’t help it.

“Come on, waiter boy. Let’s see what you’re made of. Surely, the colony leader can handle a couple dozen kids looking for the chicken snack special?”

I fished a pad and pen from my pocket and offered them to him. He took them with a resigned grunt as I grabbed his arms and twisted him around to face the hall. “It’s easy. You seat them in groups of four until we run out of booths, then you move on to tables. Then you ask, ‘What would you like to drink?’ Hand out the menus—wait five minutes and ask, ‘Are you ready to order?’”

He spun around and reeled me against him, capturing my mouth with his. I raised my fingers to touch where my lips still tingled. “What was that for?”

“Luck.”

Supplies in hand, he went to face our customers while I turned up the fryer and added more oil. Then I hauled out bags of frozen French fries and baggies full of Emma’s special-recipe chicken strips from the walk-in freezer.

I paused as I heard Clayton’s raised voice drift down the short hall. “What would you like to drink?” he asked, followed by a cacophony of noise as dozens of children answered all in the same breath.

I chuckled, almost feeling sorry for him as I dropped the first batch of chicken into the grease.

Hours later, the kids were gone, the tables cleared, the floors mopped and the closed sign flipped over.

Clayton sank into a worn dining chair just inside the kitchen. “I don’t see how you do that every day.”

I looked up from loading the dishwasher. “It’s not that intense every day. Mainly on weekends or the odd holiday, but most days it’s not a bad way to make a living. I enjoy it.”

The heavier pans clattered as I dropped them into the deep, industrial-grade sink.

“Can I give you a hand with those?”

“Sure.” I paused, considering. “You do know how to wash dishes, right?”

A few feet above the sink hung a coil of ribbed silver tubing ending in a spray nozzle. The premise was simple. You pulled and water came out of the end.

“I have washed dishes before, you know. You have to learn a lot of things living on your own, but I guess I don’t have to tell you that.”

“Fine,” I said, unconvinced. “Show me.”

He reached up and gave a swift yank on the bell-shaped head, activating the sprayer at full power. I heard the water bounce off the metal pans still crusted with biscuits left over from breakfast. His hand opened and the cord pulled taut, retracting as he cursed and jumped backwards.

When he turned around, his white polo shirt was slicked to his stomach, and I could count the ridges of muscles in his abdomen. He was soaked from chest to crotch. I cleared my throat and found something interesting in the doodling around our shift schedule to hold my attention.

“It’s stronger than what I’m used to, okay?”

Between his defensive tone, his confounded expression and his soaked clothes, I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It was easy to relax with him. He uncorked all the laughter I’d bottled up over the last few years until it released in a rush that cramped my stomach as I doubled over, gasping for breath.

His hand lifted, going for the sprayer again. Instinct told me to run and run fast before he had the chance to do whatever it was making his eyes gleam and his lips hitch up to one side.

I spun around and barely made the doorway just before a stream of icy water hit the small of my back. Water seeped into my pants and soaked my underwear, running down my legs until even my shoes squelched.

“What was that for?” Now the loose shirt I wore over my tank top clung to my skin.

“Payback.” His lips formed a wicked grin.

“I didn’t do anything to get paid back for. You were the one who said he knew how to work the sprayer.” I fumbled the hair band from my braid and finger combed the length until it covered my soaked back.

“You laughed at me.”

“It was funny.”

He grabbed the hose again. “I’ll be more careful this time.”

“No.” I backed out of range just in case he got any ideas. “Just leave them. I’ll do it. Just let me mop up this mess first.” I took a step and slipped a fraction, wincing when my bad knee sailed out from under me.

Clayton cleared the distance in four swift strides. He bent down, getting level with my stomach, and hauled me up over his shoulder. “I made the mess. I’ll clean it up. Just tell me where the mop is.”

I pounded my balled-up fists against his back. “Put me down. Now. Or I’m calling Emma.”

“Tattletale,” he teased, and swatted my bottom with his open hand.

“Oww.” I would have fought harder if I hadn’t looked down and noticed the bunch and flex of his ass moving beneath the faded denim of his jeans. I was tempted to reach down and give his bottom a good, solid whack, but I didn’t want to encourage him.

He carried me to the front of the diner and dropped me into a booth. “You stay put.”

I couldn’t believe his audacity. I jumped to my feet and got in his face. “You are not the boss of me.” I jabbed his solid chest with my finger. “I don’t need two mother hens. Emma’s constant clucking is bad enough.”

It was a mistake to stand so close to him, but I couldn’t remember why when his palms cupped my cheeks and his lips dipped down to cover mine.

I broke the kiss. “You can’t keep kissing me to shut me up.”

He turned my face back to his. “Then shut up so I can kiss you.”

The slow brush of his lips over mine made me realized how dead I’d been inside. Sure, I’d eaten and slept, talked and walked, worked—but I hadn’t cared if I stopped doing any of those things. Now I needed them. The awakening that had begun last night in the burrow culminated now in his presence.

I burned, hot and insistent, craving things I’d never imagined. Like the coarse scrub of his hands over my skin or the soft sounds he made when I kissed him back. Little things that told me how he felt without him saying a word.

He lifted me onto the tabletop, bringing me closer to his searching mouth. His fingers slid up my ribs, almost touching, but not quite where I wanted them to be. The front of my shirt was damp from being carried against his soaked clothing. The wet fabric and cool air puckered my nipples, making them tighten, drawing them to the heat of his widespread hands.

“Am I supposed to feel like I’m on fire?” I asked as his teeth closed over the skin of my neck. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

He growled. “God, that’s what I want to hear.”

I pushed him back, glancing over my shoulder. “There’s nothing but glass behind us.” Just because I couldn’t see anyone beyond the diner’s lights didn’t mean they weren’t there.

“Please, Maddie.” His sincere tone was my undoing. “Let me have a little more.”

I pushed down my instinctive rejection, the uncertainties, everything blocking my enjoyment of the moment. I felt certain I would think clearer after he had left and taken his sweet temptations with him.

“Okay.”

His dark laughter at my acceptance should have worried me, would have if I’d been able to think past the pleasure of holding his firm male body against mine. Of feeling his heart race and his breath catch when I nipped his bottom lip in repayment for the night before.

I had the fleeting thought that Harper had never stirred this side of me. Then Clayton’s head lowered and his teeth claimed my taut nipple through the fabric of my damp shirt and my mind flipped off like a thrown switch.

His hands smoothed below the wet tail of my shirt and spanned my rib cage before heading higher and pushing my bra upward until my breasts were freed.

“Can I taste you?” he asked.

I nodded since my tongue seemed paralyzed. Maybe I’d bitten it. Maybe he had. I didn’t know and I didn’t care.

He tugged my shirt up just high enough he could reach bare skin. When his lips closed over my breast, his teeth tugging the taut peak, I gasped and arched closer.

His low hum of approval made my fever burn higher. My eager hands reached for him, fingers seeking purchase in his soggy shirt, but he was already pulling away.

“No.” He caught them and lifted them both to his lips, pressing a kiss into each palm. “Not this time.” He gently lowered the cups of my bra back into place and smoothed my shirt down before sinking to his knees and wrapping his palms around my calves. His cheek settled across the top of my thigh.

His breaths were shallow, rapid, his hold tight and fingers pinching.

“Are you okay?” I asked breathlessly, uncertain of what had just happened. Or not happened.

“I just—I didn’t mean to take things so far.”

I tensed as doubt wormed its way back into my mind. Could pheromones be to blame for this driving need between us? My gut clinched at the thought.

He stroked the inside of my thigh with his thumb. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not the pheromones. I stopped because you’re important to me and I don’t want to push you.” He glanced up and I watched hope and fear and a dozen smaller emotions flicker across his face. “If we pursue this, I need to know it’s me you want.”

His gaze broke from mine when he dropped his cheek back to rest on my leg. I twisted a few of his dark curls around my finger and scratched my blunt nails across his scalp. “I understand.”

Better than he realized. He might fear I saw him as a replacement for Harper, but I feared he didn’t see me at all. I wanted us both to be certain, conscious of the choices we made.

The light creak of hinges and the high scrape of metal drew my attention towards the hall. I glanced away from Clayton in time to see Emma weaving her way around upturned chairs placed on tabletops. Since I had her keys, she must have made the long trip around to the emergency exit.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing, Clayton?”

He still hadn’t looked up.

“He’s not doing anything wrong.” I petted his hair. “We were just talking.”

She snorted. “
Talking
doesn’t leave my kitchen six inches underwater.
Talking
doesn’t leave two full-grown demons soaking wet. Unless you were both pretending to be mermaids trying to perfect freshwater communication in my sink, I fail to see how
talking
had anything to do with whatever you two were up to.”

Clayton’s head lifted just before he stood. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

“No, you’ll go home and let me take care of Maddie. She could have slipped and hurt herself again.”

I wasn’t about to tell her that’s how we had ended up in here. His face blanked, telling me he was thinking the same thing, probably blaming himself too.

“Fine.” He sounded tired all of a sudden. “I’ll leave.”

He bent down to press a quick kiss to my cheek. “I enjoyed today. It was fun, except for the screaming kids and spilled drinks.” While at my ear, he whispered, “Can I see you again?”

I nodded, brushing our cheeks together.

“Soon?” he asked.

“Soon.” I pulled him in for a hug. “Thanks for sticking around. I had fun too.”

Emma cleared her throat. “If you two don’t mind, I’d like to get home sometime before midnight.”

When he pulled back, I let him go and watched as he walked out the back door Emma had left ajar.

“Stop staring and roll your tongue back into your mouth.”

“I’m not staring.” I slid down from my perch. “I’ll help you clean up.”

“No, you stay put. It’s a slick and soapy mess back there. It will only take longer if I have to watch your every step.”

I dropped down into the booth. For once, I wouldn’t argue.

My time with Clayton had given me plenty to ponder…and desire.

Chapter Ten

The next morning, warmth from a body curled intimately into my side radiated a delicious sense of peace, enveloping me deeper into sleep. Rolling over, I snuggled closer to the source and buried my face in sweetly scented fur. A few chaste licks swiped across my parted lips, snapping me into consciousness. Blinking against the bright morning sun, I locked onto a pair of dark, chocolate eyes staring languidly back at me across my pillow.

“Good morning.”
The dog’s thin lips curled into an unnatural smile, white fangs gleaming.

The scream that ripped from my throat came loud and long as I rolled over, falling off the bed and landing in a sprawl across the hardwood floor. A tiny wagging bundle of fluff bounced joyfully across the bed to stand, staring down at me, from the mattress’s edge. It cocked its head enquiringly to one side as soft puppy breath blew warm air into my face.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to muffle the screams that sounded pathetic even to my ears. I’d known Emma wanted me to have some kind of companion, but what was that thing? Dogs didn’t look like that. It was too hairy, like a mop come to life, and its eyes were too bright. It looked entirely too happy to see me.

The bedroom door burst open as Emma fell through to land on the floor beside me in a tangle of pajamas. We both stared at the doorknob lodged firmly in the drywall. She squinted against the sun, lifting a hand to ward off the overly bright rays.

“What happened?” Her words mashed together. “Are you all right?” She grunted and got back on her feet. “What’s going on in here?”

I raised a shaky hand to point at the shaggy occupant of the bed. “
That
caught me off guard.”

Emma’s expression shifted from dazed to pure delight as she knelt to pat the monster responsible for rousing me from sleep. “Aww, you have a puppy. Where did she come from?”

“I—I thought you bought her for me, as a gift or something.”

She cut her eyes to me. “I’m not that mean. I know you didn’t want a pet.” She continued to ruffle the dog’s glossy fur. “Even though this one is a cutie.”

The tiny beast bounced up and down in adulation as she washed Emma’s cheek with her long pink tongue. Tossing a glance over her doggy shoulder, the animal shot me a conspiratorial wink.

A cold dread flooded me. I felt ill. It couldn’t be. Could it? “That dog just winked at me.”

“Don’t be silly,” she chided. “Dogs can’t wink.” She scratched behind the animal’s ears as it emitted a throaty rumble. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think your dog just purred at me.” She laughed.

Now my sister was making fun of me. “That is
not
my dog,” I complained as I got to my feet and stood at the foot of the bed.

She ignored me, speaking to the pooch instead. “How did you get in here?” The puppy snuffled her hand. “If she’s not yours, then whose is she?” She tickled it behind the ears, more concerned about the dog than me. That shift in attention grated since I knew the
puppy
was milking it for all it was worth.

Glaring at the smiling doggy face, I shrugged noncommittally. I could tell Emma to ask the dog herself, but then she would think my night in the woods had been more traumatic than I’d admitted. No normal person spoke to animals. Period. And worse, to reveal that they answered me was a certificate to the loony bin.
Not wise, Maddie. Not wise at all.
Best keep that tidbit secret for now…or forever.

“What’s this?” Emma drew my attention back to her new best friend. “I didn’t notice you had a collar.” Her fingers slid around a bright red band hidden in the thick fur. “I guess coffee really is what jumpstarts my brain in the morning.”

I.D. tags glinted on her palm as she turned them over to look for a name. I knew that the tags had not been there moments before. My world was spinning wildly out of control. I dropped my forehead into my hands, smothering the insane need to giggle. Thankfully, Emma wasn’t firing on all cylinders. When I peeked through my fingers, she had pinched the tag, worrying the smooth surface with her thumb.

“I bet your owner is worried sick about you,” she cooed in a baby-talk voice I’d heard her use on Dana’s children. “Hmm.”

“What is it?” I inched nearer, hoping it wasn’t a step closer to madness.

“If found please contact Clayton Delaney,” she read. An angry jerk of her hand let the tags drop back into place. She stared at the dog as if it had grown a second head.

Knowledge hammered at my brain, filling my aching head to the bursting point. The dog’s russet coat gleamed with health and her eyes shined with preternatural intelligence. “Figment?”

Her head tilted to one side curiously as her tail thumped the bed. She acknowledged my recognition although unfamiliar with the name I called her.

Emma looked at me thoughtfully, almost suspiciously. “Is that her name?” Her eyebrow arched. “I thought you didn’t know this dog—or who owns her.”

“I don’t.” I cleared my throat to hide my anxiety. “Do you know Clayton’s number off the top of your head?”

“No, and only his name is listed on the tags. No address or phone number.”

A sharp snap of fingers vibrated inside my head.

“I knew I’d forgotten something.”

Emma didn’t flinch or jump back and pull the “you talked” routine like I had two days before. She hadn’t heard a darn thing. Her hands stayed buried in thick, silky pelt as she scratched the wriggling dog. Great, this proved insanity really was a one-way ticket and I was the only passenger riding the train.

Figment bounded towards me, twisting the sheets and pawing at my plush comforter. She turned her head back towards Emma, where I was certain she practiced her cheesiest doggy grin. Emma lit up, smiling and suddenly willing to forgive the puppy her ownership. With her front paws, Figment rummaged in the comforter, pulling it aside to nuzzle a bright red cellular phone.

“Whose is that?” Emma knew full well it wasn’t my phone. She had purchased my new purple RAZR only a few months earlier.

“I have no idea.” I didn’t want to know where the phone came from; I just wanted it to go back. A snippet of rock music blared in timed bursts as it vibrated under Figment’s possessive paw.

Emma glanced at the phone. “Well, aren’t you going to answer it?”

I reached to tug it away from Figment, who sat back to watch, looking much too smug for my comfort. Pressing the send button, I managed a stunted greeting. “Hello?”

A male’s gravelly voice stabbed back. “Hello?”

“Who is this?” I felt a sick, sinking twist in my chest descending into my stomach. The sensation was like dozens of butterfly wings were tickling my insides before deciding it would be more fun to ram the lining of my stomach to punch their way out to freedom. Maybe I was just hungry. Only my stomach wasn’t growling. Just wringing itself tighter and tighter as silence on the line lingered.

“This is Clayton.” Sleep honeyed his voice thick and deep, enticing. “Who am I talking to?”

“This is Madelyn.” I stupidly tacked on, “Toliver.” And just to make sure he could add two and two together, I elaborated further. “Madelyn Toliver, Emma’s sister, you stayed with me at the diner yesterday?”
What a lame thing to say.

“I remember.” His husky chuckle reminded me of exactly what we’d done last night. “And I’m glad you called, even if it is early.”

Instant denial sprang from my lips. “I didn’t call.”

“But my phone rang…” He allowed the sentence to hang unfinished.

I glared at Figment. Certain blame for both the phone and the call could be laid at her paws.

Emma poked my arm and mouthed the word “Clayton.” I nodded. Her lips twisted into an impressive snarl. She lunged for the phone, bracing her hand on my shin. I’m not proud of how I faked a wince or how Emma shrank back looking worried she had caused me even one more ounce of pain. “Look, I’m sorry for the confusion, but I found your dog.”

“You found my dog?” His deadpan delivery called my mental state into question not for the first time in the past three days.

He almost had me believing the problem was mine alone. “Yes, your
dog
.”

“Oh.”

Oh?
I leaned down, taking the dog’s tag between my fingers as tangible proof of my sanity. “I have a dog sitting on my bed wearing a collar that says, ‘If found please call Clayton Delaney.’”

He didn’t speak for several heartbeats. I matched the time as I counted mine thudding loudly in my ears. “I’ll be right over. Just let me pull on some clothes first,” he finally replied.

The vision my mind conjured up of Clayton naked made me forget to breathe. All that dark skin peeking out from a tangle of sheets caught around his waist. I thought about his appearance from the night before and wondered if he slept with glamour or without.

My cheeks flamed, drawing Emma’s attention like a magnet. “Okay. Bye,” I managed to squeak out as I pressed the end button in panic. He had to have heard the tremor in my voice before the connection died.

“Well?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What did he say?”

“He’s on his way over to pick up his…” I leveled a stony glare at the current bane of my sanity, “…dog.”

I had to distract her before the questions became too probing. Emma’s knowing eyes were on me as I took in the disheveled state of my hair with a few pats to my sleep-tangled head and glanced down at my worn pajamas. “I need to take a shower and get into some fresh clothes before our guest arrives.”

Emma patted her new fawning friend before moving to the doorway. “All right, I’ll start breakfast while you get cleaned up. See you in a few.”

She left me with Figment. “You’re not real.”

Her brown eyes rolled.
“I’m just as real as you are.”

That was hardly a ringing endorsement. “So you belong to Clayton?”

She nodded.
“You don’t have to vocalize, you know.”

“I prefer to,” came my gruff answer. “Does he know?” I waved my hand in a circular whoop-de-do motion. “Of course he knows you can talk. He didn’t try to have me committed for telling him to come get his…” I inserted air quotes, “…‘dog’, because the psych ward would have had to bring a straitjacket built for two.”

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.” I sighed, running a hand over my eyes and the crumbling flakes of sleep dried there. “I have to take a shower.”

“Okay.”
Figment’s tongue lolled in agreement as she jumped down from the bed and trotted to the bathroom on my heels.

I came to an abrupt halt. Her wet nose jabbed into my calf. “I’m going to shower. Alone, if you don’t mind.” I gestured towards the bed. “You wait out here. You are not coming in with me.”

“Why not?”

“I will be naked.” Not that dozens of people hadn’t seen me naked, and hundreds more seen me nearly naked for ritual’s sake. I just preferred not to add needlessly to that number.

Her amber eyes glittered.
“I’ve seen Clayton naked.”

Thanks for that
, I thought to myself.

“You’re welcome.”

“Get out of my head, will you.” My growl was getting worse than my bite.

“Okay. But about him being naked…”

Saliva pooled in my mouth, forcing me to swallow or risk my second drowning in forty-eight hours. This was not what I needed at the moment. “Lucky you. Now scoot. I want privacy, unlike your precious Clayton.”

Her tone turned confiding.
“He doesn’t look the same way a female does, you know.”

I didn’t want to know why she knew what Clayton looked like nude or why she sounded so puzzled over the differences in male and female anatomy. Even worse, I didn’t want to know the naked female in question. “I should hope so.” Unbidden, thoughts of Clayton twined with Dana flashed through my mind, ruining the fantasy I had created.

I shoved Figment across the threshold into the bedroom with a thrust of my foot, closing the bathroom door firmly behind her. A quick twist of vintage, four-pronged handles made water rush from the bathtub’s faucet. I tweaked until I had the temperature perfect. The steam even seemed to help relax me from the shock of seeing Figment again. I stepped into the clawfoot tub and pulled the metal pin, activating the shower. I could almost hear my skin sizzle under the cascade of hot water.

Scrubbing my hair and humming along, I shivered when a cool blast of air sucked the warmth from the room. I looked towards the door even though it was obscured by the opaque shower curtain and got an eyeful of shampoo for my trouble.

“Did you finish cooking already?” Eyes stinging, I jerked open the shower curtain and groped blindly for the towel bar. “Can you hand me that towel? This Tea Tree stuff burns.”

A harsh intake of breath drew my burning eyes open in alarm. Instead of my sister, Clayton’s wide-set shoulders filled the entrance to my tiny bathroom. His death grip on the doorknob loosened as he reached to toss a bundle of warm terrycloth into my waiting arms.

“Damn it.” His gaze cut to the floor. His finger pointed down at Figment. “She told me you expected me. I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to play peeping Tom?” I used the towel he’d tossed to wipe my face. Seeking refuge behind the curtain, I tossed the towel over the curtain rod at the far end of the tub.

Clayton growled. “The door was already open. I stepped over to shut it when you opened the shower curtain.”

I stepped beneath the gentle spray to rinse my hair and give myself a moment to think. “How convenient for you,” I said loud enough to be heard over the cascading water. I was going to strangle Figment. If Clayton had found the door open, somehow I knew she was to blame. “And you couldn’t have said something?”

He didn’t respond. At first, I thought he must have left. I bent down and turned off the water. Peering around the curtain’s edge, I found Clayton standing right where I’d left him.

Molten black pools crashed into mine. His true self stared out where blue eyes should be. His lips parted slightly. I could almost hear his erratic heart rate bouncing across the small space between us.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in uninvited.”

I waved away his apology as the last shred of my feminine mystique flew out the window. “No problem. I’m sure a savvy, earth-dwelling male such as you has seen plenty of prime female assets before. Mine don’t rate a second glance.” I blotted my face again before clutching the plush towel across my chest. “I’m sure I don’t have anything you haven’t seen before.” Only I did, so I arranged the towel to drape across my shoulders and cover the curve of my spine.