Feverish (Bullet #3) (13 page)

IT DIDN’T TAKE long to settle into a routine
once they got back home. Emily hadn’t had much of a chance to get
to know the other members of Clay’s band, but she knew she would
once they were on a real tour. At least she’d had an opportunity to
learn their names and faces and personalities.

Since returning, she and Bryce had spoken,
and she’d forgiven him—or tried to. She was still upset, though,
and she couldn’t bring herself to trust him. She knew part of the
problem was the distance between them, but he’d also breached that
trust, and she wasn’t quite sure how to let go of her bad feelings
and let him in again.

By the time the first true days of summer
rolled around, the weather had become unbearably hot…but Emily’s
feelings for Bryce had cooled. Maybe when he came back in August,
they could reignite their feelings. Over the airwaves, though, she
just couldn’t feel the sincerity of his apology, any more than she
could feel any love from him.

One Saturday near the end of June, Clay
reminded Emily that they had planned to make a meal together. Emily
found it odd for a couple of reasons. Yes, they’d planned on
cooking together, and she was living there; they were eating
together a lot; and they spent a lot of time together, although she
was spending less and less time organizing his life. She’d found
that once she had all his
shit
, as he called it, under
control, the less effort she had to put into managing it.

What she was finding strange about the
Saturday meal, though, was something she’d already found weird, but
it hadn’t dawned on her until that moment: she hadn’t seen Clay
once—
not once
—with a woman. She knew he liked them
(evidence: porn); she knew he’d scored many a time (evidence:
pictures on his computer!); and she knew he had plenty of offers
(she manned his email and Facebook page; if the man were a whore,
he’d never lack for business).

She didn’t question it, though. Because Clay
really was the kind of guy who could get it anytime, anywhere he
wanted, she felt a little flattered that he wanted to spend his
Saturday night with her. They planned to find a movie to watch as
well.

So they’d planned a menu that she was
convinced he’d like, in spite of the fact that he was a happy
carnivore. He usually let her do the grocery shopping by herself
(she was sure it was because he liked to stay out of the public
eye), but he came with her this time.

He again wore a baseball cap.

He said he felt a little weird at the health
food store, but she knew she’d manage to find everything they’d
need there. He’d have to pay a little more than he would have at a
mainstream supermarket, but she suspected he didn’t know the
difference.

As they walked through the store finding
items on her list, Clay asked questions here and there, mostly
questions about her eating habits. She was surprised that no one
recognized him, but looking around the store, she knew why. Most of
the people in the store were tattooed, pierced, or otherwise
modified. Clay fit in instead of sticking out.

Even
he
noticed it.

When they got to the car, he took the cap off
before starting the car. She looked over at him and smiled. He
really did have great hair.

Part of her wondered what it would feel like
to run her fingers through it.

When they got back to the house, she shooed
him off to do his own thing. She wanted to make her vegan version
of cherry cheesecake and then, she said, later on, they would cook
together. Until then (something she wouldn’t tell him), she needed
a little time to herself. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to
control herself with him anymore.

* * *

About four in the afternoon, Emily told Clay
that she could use his assistance in the kitchen. He hated anything
having to do with cooking, but he’d promised, and he wasn’t going
to renege. She was boiling something on the stove that smelled
really good, so he asked what it was. She said, “Seitan.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a fake meat made out of gluten.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t gluten bad for
you?”

“Probably, but I’ve given up everything
else.”

He smiled. “
Everything?
”

She tilted her head. “So, are you gonna help
or not?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”

She had a cutting board and knife next to the
stove and told him she was going to have him slice peppers first.
He hadn’t done that since he was a teenager working in a pizza
joint, so this should be fun. In the meantime, she was shredding
cabbage in her food processor. When she finished and dumped it in a
bowl, he asked, “So what’s the other pot on the stove?”

“Rice.”

“What’s for dinner?”

“You’ll love it. I promise. Do you like
Chinese?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. You’re cutting peppers for the Kung
Pao seitan. We’re also having fried rice and Asian slaw. Cherry
cheesecake for dessert.”

“You trying to fatten me up?”

“For what?”

He shrugged, a wicked grin on his face.
“Games later.” She wasn’t biting. He wasn’t giving up, though.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She
opened the oven and pulled out a pan of roasted almond slivers. She
set the pan on a hot pad on the counter next to the stove and then
checked the rice.

Clay asked, “So…did you think about what I
said to you?”

She grabbed the bottle of soy sauce on the
counter and removed the plastic seal. She looked confused. “What?
When?”

Another devilish look. “When we were in
California.”

He could tell she was processing it. “Uh…are
you talking about…?” She couldn’t even finish the sentence. Did he
make her that nervous?

So he was neglecting the pepper. Big damn
deal. He wasn’t that hungry anyway. “Yeah. I think you know what
I’m talking about—the Jet offer.”

She started giggling, but then she found the
measuring cup. She refused to look at him. “Clay, I think you’re a
really good guy, but there are two problems with that.”

He wasn’t giving up that easily. “And what
would those be?”

As she measured out the soy sauce, she said,
“First is that I’m engaged to Bryce, which means I’m committed to
making it work.” He had plenty of arguments for that, but he knew
that now wasn’t the time. He’d have to wait for a moment of
weakness to change her mind there. “And second is that you’re my
boss.” She finally looked him in the eyes. “That’s a line we
shouldn’t cross.”

“Tell me why.”

She let out a sigh. Clay could tell he was
exasperating her. Good. She’d been doing the same thing to him
whether she knew it or not. “I shouldn’t have to. It’s
just—inappropriate.”

He smiled. “You still haven’t told me
why.”

She poured the soy sauce into a bowl and then
looked in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have to tell you why. If you want
me to be a good employee who works hard and has
your
best
interests at heart, then we shouldn’t go there.”

He smirked. “So you’re telling me that if we
were involved with each other, you
wouldn’t
have my best
interests at heart?”

She shook her head, but her face was still
sober. “I’d have
mine
.”

“Fair enough.” After a few moments of
silence, he moved the conversation to safer ground. She wasn’t
ready. And if she really loved the douchebag she was engaged to, he
didn’t want to drive a wedge there. She just didn’t seem like she
was in love. She acted like she was in commitment only, and that
was something else entirely.

So he talked about new music he’d been
hearing and how it was influencing a song he was working on. Her
mood was light while she buzzed around the stove. Before he knew
it, it was time to sit down to dinner. He’d considered finding
those stupid tapered candles, but he had no idea where Mary kept
them, and he was pretty sure they’d piss Emily off. He also
strongly considered digging out a bottle of wine or something else,
but again he figured she wouldn’t appreciate it. Truthfully, if she
cuddled up in his arms, he didn’t want it influenced by alcohol
anyway. He wanted sober Emily rocking his world. He’d had enough
inebriated pussy over the last two years to last a lifetime, and
even though those women genuinely wanted Jet, guitarist of Last
Five Seconds, he had his doubts as to if they wanted Clay, the real
guy inside.

Chapter Thirteen

DINNER TURNED OUT to be pretty spectacular.
Clay had had his doubts about what Emily more than once had
referred to as “plant protein,” but it turned out she was a great
cook. The food was amazing.

He was still dubious about that “cheese”
cake, though. It was made almost entirely out of tofu, and he
couldn’t imagine anything made with tofu would taste good. Well, he
was assuming it was made mostly out of tofu, only because he’d seen
her buy a tub of
this
kind of tofu and two tubs of
that
kind of tofu just for the dessert. But he wasn’t going
to be an asshole and refuse to try it. She’d impressed him so
far.

After they’d cleared the dinner dishes, she
got out the cheesecake and the bowl of cherries she’d refrigerated.
She sliced the cheesecake, which looked almost like the real deal,
and then spooned the cherries on top. Her cherries looked just like
regular pie cherries, so he was hopeful.

They sat at the table, and he just looked at
the cake for a minute. Emily sliced a bite off with her fork and
put it in her mouth, so he decided to do the same. He hadn’t known
what to expect, but he was sure it would be spongy and tasteless,
just like the other time he’d eaten tofu.

He was pleasantly surprised. It was just as
good as regular cheesecake. In fact, if he hadn’t known it was
fake, he never would have guessed it. “Goddamn, this is good.”

“Told you. You liked dinner too, right?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Incredible.”

She finished another bite and then said,
“Okay…tell me the difference between Jet and Clay. I’ve heard you
refer to yourself almost like you’re two different people. I wanna
know what’s going on there.”

He chuckled. No way was he going to tell her
the whole story, but a little wouldn’t hurt. “Jet and Clay are just
two different sides of my personality. No, I don’t have a split
personality, but the sides are sometimes distinctive. Clay? That’s
me, the real me, who I am at the core.” Fuck. He’d just told her.
Well, she didn’t need to know that Clay could sometimes
be…sensitive. “Jet is Clay on coke. He’s got brass balls and
doesn’t take shit from anyone. He’s the only guy you’ll ever see
onstage.”

She pointed her fork at him. “And right now
you’re referring to him like another person.”

Clay laughed again. “Yeah, I guess I am, but
I assure you, they’re both me.”

“Or maybe you’re mostly Clay.”

Maybe. But he’d never tell.

* * *

They’d had a pleasant evening and even
enjoyed watching a comedy together, followed by a long discussion
of movies and a few more they wound up watching. Clay had talked
like he might try to put the moves on her, but he’d kept his hands
to himself. That didn’t help, though, because she thought about him
while she was drifting off to sleep anyway.

She and Bryce had made plans to talk Sunday
afternoon, though, so it would help. The longer he was gone, the
less pull he had on her. The more she was around Clay, the more she
started to think that maybe being comfortable and stable with
someone like Bryce was overrated.

Sunday was a new day, though, and she was
hopeful that she and Bryce could reconnect.

She was ready to talk when he Skyped her
around one. It was night where he was, and she could tell that by
the picture coming through her computer. Bryce looked pretty cute.
His hair was a little shaggy, longer than it had ever been, and it
gave him an edgy look that he’d never had before. He always looked
corporate, and it was a look she was used to on him. But she’d been
around Clay so much lately and was not only used to his lovely long
hair but also had grown to love it enough that seeing Bryce with
his hair a little longer was fascinating—almost a turn on.

She was still a little miffed at him even
though weeks had passed since what she had been thinking of as
The California Incident
. She wanted to let go of that,
though, and reconnect. They’d once had something, and she believed
she still wanted to be his wife, so they needed to find a way to
make it work. She was willing to put forth the effort for him.
“Hey, there.” She smiled, and she was glad it was genuine. The
smile came a little easier than she’d thought it would, simply
because his vacation had thus far been good to him and she liked
the effect. He had a bit of a tan too. He just looked really
healthy, and she found him appealing because of it.

“Kitten. How are you?”

“Great. What about you?”

“Having a lot of fun. I’ve seen so much shit.
Unbelievable. What’s going on with you?”

She smiled. “I actually got my boss to eat an
entirely vegan meal last night.”

Bryce nodded, but the smile on his face waned
a little. “So what do you think of the guy anyway?”

He’d never understand. He didn’t get her
music, so why would she be surprised? “He’s really nice and
extremely talented. Just completely unorganized…and that’s where I
come in.”

“So he’s treating you okay?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t he?”

“I’ve heard those rock stars can be pretty
moody. Big babies, in fact. Have you ever heard about Van Halen’s
hellish contracts back in the day? You know, the brown M&M’s?
Always read the fine print.”

“Yeah. He’s not like that.” That’s when she
realized she was falling pretty hard for Clay. And shame on her.
She was talking to her fiancé and thinking that at the same time.
She took a deep breath. “But enough about me. What have you been
doing?”