“Where’s the date?” she said as her eyes searched the empty car. “They are going to be here in fifteen minutes.”
I waved her back into the house. “He’ll be here in a few minutes. I hope.”
We followed her in, and I paused to toss the bag of new clothes in the bathroom for Clay. I really hoped he’d help me.
“Let’s go in my room, and you can help me pick what to wear,” I said to Rachel.
“Really?” she said with an excited smile. She’d already noticed I liked my privacy and usually left me alone. But, I expected the opportunity to dress me would distract her from noticing that Clay hadn’t followed us from the kitchen or, later, his absence.
“I need something a little tropical, or hippie-ish,” I said as I closed the door and started to undress.
Rachel set the clothes on the bed, her expression filled with suspicion.
“Who is this guy? Why do you need to dress like a hippie?”
“He’s a good friend, and he didn’t have much notice to go home to change. Because I’m cheap, I got him some clean clothes from the summer closeout racks.” I spoke a little louder for Clay’s benefit. I wanted him to know why I purchased what I had.
Rachel looked up at my sudden surge in volume. Clearly, my weirdness had just increased a level. I motioned to the pile of clothes to distract her. She began to riffle through them, searching for something to fit my requirements.
“He’s got longish hair so I think he might look like a hippie in what I bought.” At least, I thought he might still have longish hair. It’d been months since I last saw him. “He was just behind me. I told him he could use our bathroom to change.”
“How good of a friend is he?” she asked.
I smiled. “Well, we’ve slept together.”
She surprised me by not saying anything. Instead, she held up a few options. I picked a flowing, knee-length, cream skirt with a light yellow, scoop-necked top and hurried to get dressed.
“You do know that the best way to appear like you’ve been dating a long time would be to look like you don’t care how you look, right?” she asked.
I rolled my eyes at her, gave the skirt one last tug to straighten it, and studied myself in the mirror. Dressing up was a gamble. It might send the wrong message to Scott even with Clay present. Maybe I should follow Rachel’s advice and dress down. But then Clay would look out of place in his clothes.
“That looks great on you,” Rachel complimented as she scooped up the rejects.
Worried Clay might need more time, I stalled by asking her how I should fix my hair. I didn’t own any make-up to apply.
“So what’s the guy’s name?” Rachel watched me closely.
“Clay,” I admitted reluctantly. Since I’d asked a huge favor of him, I couldn’t lie about his name.
“Shut up,” she said with a laugh of disbelief.
“Not lying,” I said, holding up my hands in the mirror. “He talks as much as the dog, too. So don’t bother trying to make conversation.”
I figured I’d pushed our time limit and turned to let Rachel inspect me. She smiled her approval then dashed to her room to ditch the extra clothes. We crossed paths in the living room as she went to look out the picture window, and I went to find Clay.
The door to the bathroom remained firmly closed. I tapped on it.
“Do you need help?” I whispered.
Unfortunately, Rachel overheard and started sniggering behind me. Apparently, there was nothing to see out the window. I tried to shoo her away with a wave, but she shook her head and leaned against the hallway wall to watch.
“Please hurry, Clay,” I begged.
The door opened. I took a step back to avoid the cloud of steam that rolled out. Clay stepped out with it. Stunned, I stared at him. I hadn’t seen him since the beginning of the summer. Well, excluding that brief look at his backside. I’d been too shocked to notice the rest of him, then.
He still looked scruffy. Between the beard that concealed his cheeks and entire neck, and the full mouth-covering mustache, I still couldn’t see much of him. His damp hair hung in limp, wavy strands in front of his eyes and covered the top portion of his face almost down to his nose. Yet, clean and dressed in the clothes I’d forced onto him, he looked amazing.
His shoulders filled the short-sleeved shirt, and although snug on his chest, it fell loosely to his waist. He put his hands in his pockets as he waited for my inspection to finish. Embarrassed, I tore my gaze away, but not before I noted he’d left himself barefoot.
“Brat,” I muttered. Then, I cleared my throat and added, “You’ll do.”
I turned and caught Rachel’s smirk. “Quiet from the peanut gallery.”
Mercifully, the doorbell rang then so she just laughed and rushed to answer it. Their arrival spared me from having to look at Clay again. In a way, I’d forgotten the man under the fur.
I followed Rachel slowly, feeling curiously lost. Clay walked softly behind me.
“Come on in,” Rachel said to Peter. Peter stepped in, and Scott followed inches behind. Peter gave me an apologetic look as he moved aside. Scott’s eyes found mine, and he smiled widely. I flashed a politely cool smile in return.
I could see the moment Scott spotted Clay. His face first fell then firmed in tense appraisal.
“Hi, Peter,” I said. “Nice to see you again, Scott.” His face lit at my statement, and I felt badly that I needed to hurt him in order to end his fixation. “We were going to join you guys, but Clay just got off of work a little while ago and suggested he and I take advantage of the empty house tonight.” My heart skipped a beat or two at my bold words, and I struggled to control the blush that wanted to paint my face. Thankfully, Clay stood behind me so I didn’t need to witness his reaction to my words.
Scott’s face was a different story. I watched it turn red.
“Isn’t Clay your dog?” he asked suspiciously.
“We named the dog after my boyfriend. It’s a bit of a joke. Clay, meet Peter and Scott, Rachel’s friends.” My disassociation of Scott broke him. His shoulders slumped, and the familiar look of shame stole over his face. Why did this happen? I hated it. Pity and remorse swamped me.
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.
Scott noted Clay’s hand on my back, glanced between us, 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. He nodded and went to the closet to retrieve her jacket. Rachel looked back at me as Peter held out her jacket to assist her.
“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 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 new roommate soon.
“We’re sure,” I said with a smile and waved them out the door. “Don’t come home early.”
When the door closed behind Peter and Rachel, I exhaled slowly, and turned to Clay, breaking our connection. I smiled at him.
“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 as he placed his now empty hand back into the front pocket of his pants. The air cooled the spot on my back that he’d warmed.