I didn’t know what to say. He had canines when in his human form because of me. “So, when you’re around me, they’re worse? I guess that means they’re like that all the time.”
He shrugged and casually took a step back. I was unsure what the shrug meant. We both heard a car pulling into the driveway. Questioning him further would have to wait. Thinking of the rest of the new clothes still on the bathroom floor, I moved away from him saying, “I got to move your clothes. I’ll be right back.”
When I casually strolled back into the kitchen, Rachel knelt petting Clay-the-dog and asked me why we had a man’s clothes on the kitchen chair. Clay impassively met my gaze. Darn him. Why hadn’t he just stayed Clay-the-man?
“Clay stopped by and fixed the sink. He figured he would leave a change of clothes, because of last night,” I lamely explained. Thankfully, Rachel focused on the fixed plumbing rather than the fact I had a man leaving clothes behind at our house.
“The sinks working? And for free… Does he know anything about weatherproofing? I just heard the weather report and we’re going to get a cold snap this week. Frost.”
I shrugged, feeling very Clayish, and grabbed the clothes. As I walked from the room to put them away, she continued to talk to Clay using her normal nonsense babble. He was such a good boy and so handsome. Did I treat him well while she was gone? Did he want a treat? I sniggered and sat on the couch after putting the clothes away, leaving Clay to his torture.
Done with her affectionate praise, she released him. He trotted from the kitchen and joined me in the living room. She went to her room to change, leaving her door open to talk to me. “With past roommates, we always tried to make it to November first before turning on the heat. It saves us a bunch of money. The landlord did replace the storm windows this year, which helped a little so it shouldn’t cost as much to heat. But if you’re game for trying to save more, I’d like to hold off on the heat.”
“That’s fine by me,” I agreed. Sitting on the couch, I looked at Clay who lay near. “Know how to caulk a window?” I whispered.
“What?” Rachel asked from her room.
“Nothing, just talking to Clay.”
The rest of the weekend passed like the one before with studying and turning pages for Clay-the-dog. Although I still wanted to know about his pronounced teeth in man form, I couldn’t come up with any reason to ask him to shift. When I tried asking him about his teeth while he wore his fur, he just walked away from me. I couldn’t tell if he did that because he was moody or just bored with my conversation.
Monday night, I got home and Clay stood in the kitchen cooking dinner for two. I had to suppress the happy-dance I wanted to do and instead nonchalantly walked in by him. A note on the table from Rachel explained his presence. She had gone out with Peter and would be back late. The note stressed alone.
I’d thought of several questions to ask him, starting with his teeth, and hoped he wouldn’t get annoyed and go fur on me again. I decided to ease him into my agenda.
“Wow, I didn’t know you cooked. It smells great.” I set my messenger bag on a chair and hovered behind him watching him work. He pulled two baked potatoes from the oven. To the side he had chicken resting with corn already on plates. Seeing dinner almost ready, I grabbed flatware for us and sat down.
“So, other than cooking, how did you keep yourself busy today?”
He set a plate in front of me, sat down himself, and then pointed to the last batch of books I’d brought home. They waited piled neatly on the table between us.
“You read them all already?”
He nodded.
Across from him in the quiet of the cozy kitchen, I sat in stunned silence for a moment. “That’s a lot to read in just five days. Are you skipping chapters?” I teased. He just glanced up at me briefly and then back down at his food. Maybe I needed to work on my teasing skills. I supposed smiling would better indicate my humor.
“So, about the beard… are your teeth ready to play nice?” That got an actual laugh from him. A short one, but still very nice.
“Does that mean we can trim your beard?” I asked excited by the prospect. The scissors would also make a beeline for his hair. How could I read his face when he kept it so hidden? Since he didn’t actually speak, it hindered our communication even further.
He shook his head and my face fell. I looked back down at my plate feeling silly for the stab of disappointment I felt just because I wouldn’t get to see more of his face tonight. Lost in my own thoughts, it took me a second to realize he’d stopped eating. He leaned back in his chair studying me.