A flannel shirt, hidden within the mass of other shirts on the clearance rack, caught my eye. I looked it over closely. The shirt lacked most of the middle buttons. An easy enough fix. I put it in the cart. It would get chilly soon, and he’d need it. I paused. Would he stay that long? Probably. He showed no sign of wanting to leave. I went to find some warm socks then looked for shoes. I had to guess the size based on the feet that I’d seen last night.
Waiting in the checkout line proved painfully annoying. I couldn’t avoid men while standing still. However, I did manage to find an open lane with a female cashier. Two men lined up behind me and persistently tried to start up a conversation with me before I unloaded the cart. The woman gave me a look. Whatever.
I left the store in a hurry. Usually, if I put enough distance between us, my admirers forgot about me.
The cart clattered over the blacktop as I made my way to the car. Clay watched for me from the back seat. His steady gaze tracked my progress. I looked forward to showing him what I’d managed to purchase and smiled at him.
Unfortunately, the man who’d just pulled into the space beyond my car thought I’d meant the smile for him. I mentally groaned as I kept pushing the cart toward my car. The man climbed down from his truck. Like Clay, he didn’t stop watching me as he stepped out from between the vehicles to wait for me. Clay tensed inside the car.
“Hi, there. Need a hand?” the man said.
I stopped near the trunk.
“No, thanks. I got it.”
He didn’t leave.
“My name’s Dale. I own Dale’s Auto Body on South Mitchell. You should bring your car by. It looks like it might be due for an oil change.”
Did I really look dumb enough to believe he could determine the car needed an oil change just by looking at the exterior? It certainly wasn’t leaking oil as a giveaway.
“That’s a nice offer, but my boyfriend does the oil changes.” I unlocked the trunk and started to load groceries.
Dale didn’t take the hint and go away.
“He’s a handy guy, then?” He grabbed the potatoes and set them in the trunk for me. Unfortunately, it brought him closer.
“Yes, very.” A brief conversation sometimes worked to get rid of a pest.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” he said.
I could see Clay through the back window. Crouched down, he watched the man though the small gap between the trunk lid and the trunk. I bent forward and set a bag in the trunk so Dale wouldn’t see me as I rolled my eyes at Clay. Clay’s gaze briefly flicked to me before returning to Dale with serious intent.
“Gabby,” I said as I closed 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.”
Not waiting for his reply, I moved the cart to the empty spot next to my car.
“We have an opening at the shop. If your boyfriend’s looking for work, send him by. We’ll see how good he is,” Dale said, opening the driver-side door for me.
Clay hopped from the back seat to the driver’s seat. With bristling fur, he growled at Dale, who backed away a step.
I nodded to Dale and nudged Clay over so I could slide in behind the wheel. Braving Clay’s wrath, Dale closed the door for me. I started the car and pulled through the empty spot in front of me.
“Well, that was a challenge if I ever heard one.” I reached over to pet Clay’s head. “But no challenges until you fix the sink.” He looked up at me, and I smiled.
When we got back to the house, both Rachel and Peter were gone. That seemed to make Clay happy. It definitely made me happy. I hadn’t been sure how Clay would get dressed with Rachel around.
“You go shower while I unpack. Then you can look at the sink and see if we have to call that bigheaded plumber back.”
He willingly trotted to the bathroom. After that first time, I’d learned to let him close the door on his own.
It didn’t take long for me to put the groceries away. When I finished unpacking, I picked up the pile of things I’d bought for Clay and went to my room. The stuff from yesterday already hung neatly in my closet except for some underclothes which I’d hidden in my bottom drawer. I grabbed an item from his drawer—it made it less personal if I didn’t over think it—then moved to the bathroom. I could hear the shower running and tapped on the door.
“I’m coming in, so please stay behind the curtain.” I waited a moment then entered. Steam already filled the room. “I have some clothes for you. Better stuff for looking at a sink than what I bought yesterday.” I realized then that I’d never actually asked him if he would help.
“Clay, I’m so sorry,” I apologized sincerely. “I’m being rude and making assumptions. Will you look at the sink? Please?” I asked using my syrupy voice.
He splashed me over the top of the curtain...again.
“Ok, ok. I’ll just leave the stuff here on the floor. If something doesn’t fit 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.” I realized I was rambling at the same time I remembered the missing buttons on the shirt. I closed my mouth and quickly grabbed the flannel from the pile.
The water turned off just then, and I rushed from the bathroom.
In my room, I pulled out my travel sewing kit and got to work moving buttons around. The two spares on the inside seam remained intact. With those and a close match I found in the sewing kit, I solved the missing button problem.
While I stitched, I listened for Clay to leave the bathroom. By the time I finished, I still hadn’t heard anything. I set the repaired shirt aside and went to look for him.
I found him in the kitchen. He already had his head bent over the faucet. The jeans hung loosely from his hips. The white shirt clung lightly to his back, outlining the curve of each muscle and his broad, firm shoulders. I blinked twice, swallowed hard, and caught myself a moment before I tried clearing my throat to swallow again. The clothes I’d picked out looked good. A little too good. And looking at him in them did funny things to my stomach.
Thankfully, he didn’t look up and notice my gawking. I pulled myself together and moved to the refrigerator. Opening it, I studied the contents then grabbed what I needed to make him a big breakfast: eggs, bacon, potatoes, and yes, orange juice...from concentrate. I set everything on the table.
When first staying with Sam, he’d amazed me with the amount of food he’d consumed on a daily basis. He’d explained that the werewolf’s metabolism ran a bit higher than the average person's did. So, I planned to make enough breakfast for three and only serve myself one portion, leaving the rest for Clay.
While he ran down to the basement, I washed the potatoes under the pathetic trickle of water. When he came back, I noticed he still had bare feet.
“The shoes didn’t fit?” I moved to the table to peel the potatoes and stay out of his way.
He shrugged in response. I tried to guess what that might mean.
“So they fit, but you didn’t want to wear them?”
No response. He continued to tinker with the sink. I started to cut the potatoes.
“Did you like them, or should we bring them back? 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.”
Halfway through my one-sided conversation, he’d turned to look at me. I knew I’d rambled a little...again. Then I realized I’d just referred to him still living here in winter. I had really grown used to having him around. Kind of. I hoped he wasn’t looking at me because of that.
“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.” The plain, grey and blue running shoes were muted enough that I’d thought they’d look okay with whatever he wore in the future. I hadn’t given the style more thought than that.