Clay's Hope (16 page)

I shrugged and took a step back.

A car pulled into the driveway, distracting
Gabby. She left the kitchen in a rush. I sighed and quickly
stripped out of the clothes, knowing our time was over. For
now.

When Rachel walked through the door, I was
in my fur and the clothes were in a neat pile on the chair.

Rachel smiled at me, petted my head, then
caught sight of the clothes as Gabby walked into the room.

“Is there someone here?”

“Clay stopped by and fixed the sink. He
figured he would leave a change of clothes because of last night,”
Gabby said.

Her smooth lies amazed me. I was glad I
could hear the skip in her pulse to detect them because without it,
there was nothing to give her away.

“Really? The sink’s working? And for free?”
Rachel moved to the sink to test it.

Gabby shrugged and grabbed the clothes,
leaving me to deal with Rachel’s good mood. When Rachel was happy,
I endured hugs, kisses on the top of the head, and excessive
petting. Done with her affectionate praise, she finally released
me; and I shook off the feeling of her.

One of these days, Rachel’s fondling would
bother Gabby.

Monday, after Gabby and Rachel left, I went
to Gabby’s room to look for my clothes. Most of them were in her
bottom dresser drawer. She even had the flannel shirt in there for
me. I brought it to my nose and inhaled. Her scent was all over
it.

Dressed like a man, I went to the basement
and grabbed my wallet from where I’d hidden it after the washing
machine incident. My fake ID wouldn’t do much for an official job,
but I had the feeling Dale’s offer hadn’t been official anyway.

With my wallet in my pocket, I left the
house and settled in for the long walk to South Mitchell.

The garage was easy to find and looked
better than most I’d seen back home. The square block building was
painted white, but age and weather had dulled its pristine effect.
Still, the place looked neat. A stack of four tires just outside
the door held a sale sign. Four diagonally parked cars took up the
space against the right side of the building, and a small fenced
area hugged the left side. Two large bay doors stood open; in one
bay, the floor lift had a car jacked into the air.

Dale was standing under the car and looked
at me as I walked into the bay.

“Can I help you?” he said.

I nodded. “Gabby sent me. Said you had an
opening for her boyfriend.”

For a moment, Dale looked at me blankly,
then a grin split his face. I’d expected guilt or denial, not
amusement.

“I didn’t think she’d actually send
someone.”

She hadn’t, but I kept that to myself.

“I’m Dale,” he said, coming over to me. He
offered his hand, and I shook it.

“Clay.”

“I’ll be honest; I’m not looking for
full-time help. This time of year, everyone starts remembering oil
changes and winter tires. Once that’s over, I’ll be fine on my
own.”

I couldn’t believe my luck. At best, I’d
hoped he’d be able to point me to a shop that was hiring so I could
use his name as a chance to get in somewhere.

“I’ll work for cash whenever you need me,” I
said. I already knew that working for cash meant no need for my
ID.

Dale considered me for a minute. “Cash?”

I nodded.

“This could work out,” he said with a smile.
“What experience do you have?”

I thought of Sam’s truck. “Messing around,
mostly.”

“All right. Let’s do a trial run. Ten
dollars an hour. You can start with this oil change,” he said,
pointing to the car.

I nodded, and stepped further into my new
life. An oil change was easy, something basic I’d read in the many
books Gabby brought home and something I’d done already on Gabby’s
car. I found the drain pan he used off to the side, set it under
the car, and started the oil draining. I went to the oil shelf he
had in back and grabbed five quarts of the winter grade. Dale
watched everything I did. It was a test I passed within twenty
minutes.

“Good,” he said with a nod. “I’ve got a few
more for you to do.”

The oil changes were fine. While I did those
in the right bay, he pulled another car into the left. This one he
didn’t hoist up with the lift. Instead, he wheeled over a cherry
picker. I continued with my task and watched him struggle for a few
minutes. He made the engine look heavy, but I knew from Sam’s truck
it wasn’t too much for me to lift on my own.

“Come give me a hand,” he said after a few
minutes.

He explained that the engine was slightly
wedged and how we’d need to finesse it free so, once we had
everything clear, the cherry picker could hoist it.

“Let me get an extra strap,” he said, moving
around me.

With his back turned, I quickly lifted the
engine, tilting it and pulling it forward. Cleared, I started
hoisting it with the cherry picker before Dale turned back to
me.

“Nice,” he said when he saw I already had it
free. He glanced at me again, assessing me.

I shrugged and moved back to my current oil
change.

Three hours later, he sent me home with an
extra forty dollars in my pocket because of my initiative, and he
also asked me to return around noon the next day.

As I made my way back to the house, I
started planning what I’d do with the money. Gabby had some cash
hidden in a box in her drawer. I’d seen her take from it a few
times. I planned on putting a few bills there; hopefully, nothing
noticeable. Since she’d just gone shopping, I figured I’d keep the
rest in my wallet until she wanted something, like more of her
favorite orange juice.

Once home, I showered and washed my
clothes—except for the shoes. Rachel’s car pulled into the driveway
just after I put everything in the dryer. I quickly shifted, fear
making my heart race as I sprinted up the stairs.

She stepped into the house, petted my head,
and held the door for me to go outside. She didn’t seem to notice
the noise in the basement, so I went. She didn’t watch me from the
door, but instead went to her room. A few minutes later, she was
back and let me in. She’d changed.

I watched as she scribbled a note and
dropped it on the table. She seemed in a hurry as she patted me on
the head and left. I waited until she pulled out of the driveway to
read the note. She was going to dinner with Peter and would be home
late. She’d been doing that a lot lately, staying out until long
after Gabby went to bed.

An idea formed, and I grinned. I had
clothes, a job, and money. Gabby was interested in me as a man. It
was time to start showing her what I could be for her.

* * * *

The baked potatoes were done, so I turned
the oven down to keep them warm. The chicken breasts were still
sizzling in the pan, and the corn steamed in the pot beside it. I
looked at everything, trying to figure out if I’d missed
anything.

Outside, a car pulled into the driveway. My
pulse leapt. I looked down at my shirt to make sure it was still
clean. Yep. White and tight. Just like it’d been from the
dryer.

As Gabby walked through door, I slid the two
chicken breasts onto their plates.

“Wow,” she said. “I didn’t know you cooked.
It smells great.” She closed the door, set her bag on the nearest
chair, and moved to stand just behind me. Her scent wrapped around
me. Then she inhaled deeply, robbing me of thought for a minute.
Had she just scented me?

No, idiot. The food. I’m making dinner. For
her. Stay focused.

I bent, pulled the baked potatoes from the
oven, and added those to the plates along with a healthy portion of
corn. Gabby moved away from me and grabbed us both a fork and knife
from the silverware drawer before sitting at the table.

“So, other than cooking, how did you keep
yourself busy today?”

Not ready to tell her about the job, I set
the plates down and nodded at the last batch of books she’d brought
me, which happened to be on the table. I’d finished the last one
last night and had them there, ready for her to return.

“You read them all, already?”

I nodded.

“That’s a lot to read in just five days. Are
you skipping chapters?”

Her amusement confused me, and I looked up
to see why that would be funny. She blushed slightly and cleared
her throat.

“So, about the beard...are your teeth ready
to play nice?”

I laughed. My teeth were ready to play. Nice
or not didn’t matter.

“Does that mean we can trim your beard?”
Excitement filled her gaze.

I shook my head, wondering why she wanted
the beard trimmed. This was the second time she’d mentioned it.

Her face fell, and she quickly looked down
at her plate. I lifted my nose and tested the air. I’d disappointed
her. I leaned back in my chair and studied her. Her interest made
me happy; if a trimmed beard meant that much to her, I’d do it.
But, I needed to understand why. My gut told me there was something
more behind the request than her obsession with my grooming
habits.

She glanced up, gave me a weak smile, and
lifted another bite.

“This tastes great. Thank you for cooking.
Do you have a favorite food? I can put it on the next shopping
list.”

Why was she changing the subject now? She
pushed a few bites around on her plate, her discomfort growing. I
picked my fork back up, still trying to figure out what had just
happened.

“Actually, let’s keep a shopping list on my
dresser. When you think of something, you can add to it so I know
what to get without guessing.”

We ate the rest of the meal in silence. When
she was done, she brought her plate to the sink, then returned to
the table and started reading from one of her textbooks.

“If you want, when you’re done, we can watch
a movie,” she said as I took my last bite.

I wanted nothing more. I hurried to clean
up. When she moved to help, I waved her back to her seat. If she
did her work while I cleaned, I’d have more of her undivided
attention later.

While I finished washing the stove, Gabby
packed up and then hovered in the doorway, waiting for me. Behind
my beard, I grinned triumphantly. She wanted me. Sure, it was just
my presence she wanted, but I knew there would soon be more.

We moved to the living room, and I picked
out a suspense movie. It worked well for snuggling the last
time.

“If I scream again when Rachel comes home,
no laughing,” she said as she curled up on the couch.

I started the movie and sat next to her. As
she watched it, I concentrated on her. She immediately relaxed,
just slightly leaning against me. Her pulse jumped several times
within the first few minutes of the movie. And although I knew it
had nothing to with me, my pulse always leapt in response.

I frowned and actually focused on the movie
when I felt her shiver beside me. It wasn’t that scary. A few
minutes later, just as the girl was about to enter the house, Gabby
popped up from the couch and went to her room. Tilting my head, I
listened to her pull something from her closet.

Gabby returned, wearing a hoodie. She’d been
cold. Damn it. I could have put my arm around her.

I spent the rest of the movie mentally
beating myself.

When the movie ended, Gabby sprang from the
couch, surprising me.

“Hey, Clay. Do you like cookies?” she asked
as she left the room.

I stood and followed behind her, wondering
what had brought on that unusual question. She opened a cupboard
and started moving stuff around, looking for something. I stepped
closer, barely an inch behind her, wondering what she was after.
There wasn’t much in the cupboard.

“Shoot,” she said, closing the doors.

She turned and let out a strangled “gah”
when she saw me so close. I grinned. How had she not heard me?

“Har-har,” she said with a grin. Her pulse
raced wildly. “I told you no suspense movies. Life is scary enough
without them. Oh, and false alarm on the cookies. We’re missing
some main ingredients.”

If she really wanted to make cookies, why
not get what she needed? I held up her car keys and jingled
them.

“It’s tempting, but unless I want to get a
part-time job, I can’t afford to keep spending the money I’ve
saved. I’ve got to stick to the budget so it lasts till spring. If
we can manage to keep the heat off until November, I should have
cookie money for Christmas. That’s when cookies are best anyhow.
I’ll just need to start wearing more clothes inside.”

More clothes? I wanted to groan.

She took the keys from me and put them back
in the dish on the counter. I barely noticed. I was the reason she
was spending more than she’d planned. The money in my pocket was a
good start but only if I used it to help her. I couldn’t just give
it to her. She’d ask questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

Tomorrow, before I went to Dale’s, I’d
figure out what groceries we needed in order to make cookies. I’d
find a way to get everything Gabby wanted.

When Gabby left for class the next day, I
did what I could to help at home. I switched over the laundry she’d
put in that morning—I was less afraid of breaking the machine
now—folded everything once it dried, and washed the sheets she’d
pulled from the bed.

While I waited for the laundry to finish, I
looked at our supplies and made note of anything running low. I
also found a cookbook with over a dozen cookie recipes. Each recipe
had a slight variation, but all had the same basic ingredients:
flour, sugar, butter, baking powder (or soda), and vanilla. I added
those ingredients to the list as well.

Once I had the bed remade, the laundry put
away, and the list in my back pocket, I headed out the door.

Dale was ready with a car on the lift in the
right bay when I arrived. I checked the paperwork on his desk for
what it needed, then started on the oil change. It felt good to
have something to do while Gabby was at school. Reading had helped
me from going crazy, but physically doing something was better.