Hope(less) (19 page)

Clay lightly set his hand at the small of my back.  A casual
touch.  His palm slowly warmed a large area.  Even in man form, he could sense
some of my anxiety.

Noting Clay’s hand on my back, Scott glanced between us and then
turned to his friend.  “Peter, Rachel, I’m sorry to back out on you too, but I
think I’m going to head home.  I’ve been fighting a cold all week.”  Without
waiting for acknowledgment, he turned and left.

Peter, who’d looked apologetically anxious when he entered,
watched his friend leave with a concerned frown.  Rachel murmured something to
him and he nodded, going to the closet to retrieve her jacket.  Rachel looked
back at me as Peter held out her jacket to assist her, and asked, “Are you sure
you want to stay in?”

Rachel accepted Peter’s help with an ease that usually came
after being together for years.  I doubted they even realized how in tune they
were with each other.  That often happened when people found their perfect
match.  Their lives blended in a seamless perfection they simply called love. 
It was more than that though.  Their deep connection put them perfectly in tune
with each other’s needs and wants.  It kept them open to suggestion and reason
so they would always listen to each other.  Yep, I’d need to look for a
roommate soon.

“We’re sure,” I answered with a smile and waved them out the
door.  “Don’t come home early.”

When the door closed behind Peter and Rachel, I turned to
Clay with a smile breaking our connection.  “Home free.  Thank you, Clay.”

The subtle difference between living with Clay-the-dog and standing
in a room alone with Clay-the-man tickled the nerves in my stomach.  I refused
to show it.

He simply watched me, placing his now empty hand back into
the front pocket of his pants.  I could feel the air cooling the spot on my
back he’d touched.

“Um,” I mumbled not sure what to do.  I hadn’t thought past
getting rid of Scott.

Clay’s calm gaze made the nervous butterflies in my stomach
worse.  Silly, really, considering he watched me all the time as a dog.  I took
a breath and tried again.  “Did you want to do something since we’re both
dressed up?”

He shrugged.

“You can talk to me, Clay,” I said with a little hope.  I really
began to wonder if he could speak.  When he didn’t respond, I spoke again.  “Okay... 
Do you want to go out or stay in?”

He moved to the couch, sitting in the middle, his choice
clear.  Stay in tonight.

I hesitated.  With him sitting in the middle, I’d need to
sit next to him to watch a movie.  The one other chair crammed in the room sat at
an odd angle to the TV.  It gave you a sore neck if you tried to watch a movie
from there.  I felt so exposed wearing a skirt and sleeveless shirt, I wasn’t
sure if I could sit next to him for a full movie.

While mentally debating my options, he watched my face
closely.  “I’m going to go change,” I stammered, “I’ll be right back.”

I turned and made it one step before the back of my shirt
snagged on something.  Surprised, I looked over my shoulder to find Clay
standing right behind me holding a fold of my shirt between his thumb and
forefinger.  I could see the glint of his brown eyes behind the still damp
strands of hair.  He tilted his head back toward the couch and gave a slightest
tug on my shirt indicating I should follow him there.  My stomach dropped and I
couldn’t tell if it was in a good way or a bad one.

When I hesitated, he gave another tug.  Caving, I turned
back and sat on the couch.

He padded over to the movies, making a selection I couldn’t
see, and crouched to start it.  It amazed me that he knew how to do that.  Then
again, he watched everything Rachel and I did.  I wondered if anything escaped
his notice.

Pressing play, he stood and walked toward me with fluid strides. 
I felt graceless in comparison.  He settled next to me and watched the
previews.  I tried to focus on them too, but couldn’t.  Instead, I noticed our
bare feet, the scratch on the wall next to the TV, his leg lightly touching mine,
the sound of the water slowly dripping from the showerhead in the bathroom, his
hands loosely resting on his lap.  The long list of unimportant details would
not let my mind settle.

It was midway through the movie when my mind calmed enough
to notice we watched an action comedy I’d wanted to see.  I’d just mentioned it
to Rachel this past week.  She must have gotten it after that.

Slowly, I began to relax and enjoy the movie even laughing aloud
at one point.  Clay’s echoing chuckle startled me, but in a good way.  So he
could do more than growl as a dog.  His deep laugh sounded pleasant.

When the movie ended, I moved to put it away.  It was still
early, just about six.  Kneeling to look at the movie selection, I asked, “Do
you want to watch another one?  I can throw in a pizza for us.”  Turning when I
heard nothing, which wasn’t unusual, I saw folded clothes on the couch, but no
Clay.  “Clay?”

Standing, I went in search of him, but he wasn’t in the
house.  I hadn’t heard a thing.  I did a quick scan, but didn’t see him
nearby.  He did occasionally leave my side so I wasn’t too worried about it. 
He never stayed away for very long.

I looked back at the pile of clothes with a slight smile. 
Good thing I took forever to pick a movie.  Shrugging, I picked up his clothes
and went to my room to change into some sweats and tank top.

Scrounging around in the kitchen, I found what I needed to
make a big bowl of buttered popcorn.  Since I had nothing else to do, I decided
watch the other movie I’d spotted before Clay had disappeared.  When I walked
into the living room, he once again sat on the couch.  This time in his fur.  I
smiled at his familiar furry presence.

“There you are.  Want some popcorn?”  I didn’t bother
waiting for an answer but went to the kitchen to get him his own bowl.  I split
what I’d made between the two and set his bowl on the floor before sitting next
to him.  Getting comfortable, I curled into the couch tucking my feet under
him.  Bowl balanced at my side, I reached for the remote.

I’d barely started the movie with the remote when he sighed
gustily and laid his head on my curled legs.  The heat of him relaxed me and I
settled in comfortably content not to move him.  Taking a piece of popcorn, I
absently offered it to him watching the opening scene.  He ate it so I offered
him a few more pieces not fully paying attention when he licked the back of my
hand.

The second movie tended toward action-suspense more than
comedy.  Halfway through the movie, the bowl of popcorn rested on the floor,
one of my hands burrowed in the thick fur at his neck, and the other lightly worried
his fuzzy ear.  At a particularly suspenseful part, the front door opened,
scaring me so badly that a strangled scream tore through the air.  My scream.  Heart
pounding in my throat, both Rachel and Clay stared at me.

“And that’s why I don’t watch suspense movies,” I said to
both of them once I could breathe again.  Clay didn’t stop laughing for two
minutes.  Rachel laughed just as hard and thankfully didn’t notice Clay’s
reaction.

Clay licked my exposed midriff and then, finally, settled
down.  I gently tugged on his ear.  “Cut it out,” I scolded softly.

“So when did Clay leave?  I thought he’d still be here after
you said I shouldn’t hurry home.”  Rachel kicked off her shoes and flopped
sideways on the chair.

I turned off the movie, giving her my full attention.  “Nah,
I turned my back and he took off on me.”  I patted Clay on the head and he
snorted.  “It’s okay, though, I have my favorite guy here.”  And I realized it
was true.  I liked no man better than I liked Clay in his fur.  Sam used to
claim first place, but I still felt disappointed in him for not warning me
about the last Introduction and about the possibility of Clay showing up at the
back door.

“He was a little scary looking if you ask me,” Rachel
commented reaching over to pet Clay.  Turned away from her, he took the
opportunity to arch a brow at me.  I fought to keep my face straight.

“When I first met him, I told him he looked like a crazy
man.  I still think he’s crazy, but he’s also nice and dependable.”  Clay
heaved a sigh.  It seemed werewolves didn’t like to be described as nice
either.

“So does he act like Scott ever?”

“No way.”  It came out so fast I paused to rethink it. 
Nope, I definitely spoke the truth.  “Most guys talk about themselves, trying
to impress me, or just act scary obsessive.  Clay’s different.  I don’t think I
affect him like I do other guys.”

I looked away from both of them, thinking.  At times, he showed
his possessive streak, like when I went on the double date, but he didn’t act
obsessive about it.  According to my reliable sources of werewolf lore, Clay
did feel a strong pull for me, but dissimilar to what normal men did.  The pull
should make him territorial and controlling, but he never seemed affected by
any of that.  Yet, for some reason, he stayed.

“I think he just likes being with me,” I commented and
noticing Clay looking up at me, met his gaze.  Even when he wrecked the truck
back at the compound, he didn’t creep on me like most guys had.  “And I’m
grateful that I get to be normal around him.  I guess I just need to figure out
how.”

Rachel laughed at me.  “You sound like you’re really serious
about him.  Why didn’t you talk about him before this?  And why didn’t you say
the dog had the same name?  We could have changed it.”

I decided to ignore the part about being serious.  “I wasn’t
sure if or when he’d make an appearance.  And I like the name Clay.  Besides,
he doesn’t mind.”  I wasn’t sure if I was talking about Clay-the-dog or Clay-the-man
anymore.

Rachel switched topics and stated, “We should probably talk
about overnight visitors…  What rules do we want to set?”

“Um, no loud noises?”

“Come on!”  Rachel laughed louder.  “I meant, weekends
only?  Maybe guests ‘til midnight on weekdays?  Notice needed?  You know… that
kind of stuff.”

She still lounged sideways on the chair grinning at me.  I
really didn’t want to have this conversation with Clay present.  He laid
quietly, head on my lap, considerately pretending to sleep.

“I don’t know.  I trust you and your judgment, and you can
trust my lack of a social life.  I really don’t think I’ll see Clay very often
so you don’t need to worry.”

“Oh, he’ll be back.  I saw the way he watched you.  Are you
sure the only rule you can come up with is no loud noises?”

I thought of adding that she should warn me when we had a
visitor, but I looked down at Clay and figured we had it covered.  “Yeah, I
think we’re fine.”

“Great!” she exclaimed with a huge grin.  Then she cupped
her hands and yelled, “Peter!”

The front door immediately opened and a sheepish looking
Peter entered.  “You were supposed to text me,” he muttered, appearing
uncomfortable.

I laughed.  “Come on in, Peter.  Clay and I were just going
to bed.”  Clay jumped off the couch first and I got up to follow him into my
room.  “Night guys.”

Closing the door behind us, I whispered, “Another early
Friday night for us.”

I pulled back the covers and slid between the sheets.  Clay
settled in his usual spot and began breathing deeply while I lay awake thinking
about the conversation with Rachel.

As she’d pointed out, Clay wasn’t like the other guys.  At
the compound when I’d felt the pull Sam had warned me about, I’d panicked,
thinking Clay would be just like the rest and I would spend the rest of my life
trying to avoid him.

When he’d shown up at the door as a dog and not as a man, he’d
thrown me off guard.  Now, I realized he’d been pretty smart about it.  Somehow,
he’d known I would be more likely to give him a chance as a dog than as a man. 
Again, I’d underestimated his intelligence.

She was also right about him watching me.  He followed me
everywhere.  I assumed his attentiveness was to observe and learn.  What if it
wasn’t?  His quiet presence had already lulled me into indifference over his
company.  I needed to be more careful.

The next morning, I tiredly padded to the kitchen and opened
the fridge.  My deep thinking had kept me awake longer than I’d intended.  I
felt like Sam often looked in the morning.  Instead of coffee, I wanted my
orange juice.

Scanning the sparse contents of my designated shelf for the
orange liquid of life, I squinted against the harsh light.  No orange juice. 
Shuffling the contents around didn’t change the answer.  Nope, not there.

I surveyed the kitchen and spotted its remains in the
recycling.  The shower turned on in the bathroom and remembered Peter had
stayed over.

I looked down at Clay who silently accompanied me as usual,
and complained, “Great.  Another non-coffee person.”

Since I drank the last of the milk yesterday, I went for a
glass of water instead.  The faucet handle jiggled loosely in my hand and only
a trickle came out.

“Seriously?” I mumbled as Rachel glided into the kitchen.

“Looks like I’ll have to call the hottie plumber back.”

“No, thanks,” I declared, and then added, “No big guy
showing two inches of crack either.”  I turned off the faucet settling for a
third of a glass of water and thought quickly.  “I was going to go pick up Clay
later anyway,” I lied.  “I’ll have him look at it.”

“Really?  No talk, leave early, Clay?”

“Yeah, that one, not the dog,” I joked, smiling as Clay’s
head whipped up at me.

Rachel might have thought the plumber hot, but he’d been bigheaded
about it and I knew I wouldn’t be able to get rid of him so easily a second
time.  Having narrowly avoided one potential stalker, there was no way would I invite
another one in.  I’d beg Clay again if I had too.

“I believe you said you didn’t think he’d be around much,”
she smirked at me while prepping her coffeemaker.