Heart of Clay (23 page)

When it was time to turn in for the evening,
Callan took the puppy out to the barn and left an old stuffed toy
in the doghouse with him so he wouldn’t be lonely. As soon as they
shut the stall gate, Cully started to whine. By the time they
reached the patio, he’d launched into a full-scale cry.

“Maybe we should bring him in, just for
tonight.” Callan started back toward the barn.

Clay took her arm and turned her around.
“Callan, you know if you bring him in tonight, it will be every
night. We both agreed we’re not having a housedog. He’ll be fine.
And no, I’m not being mean.” He pulled her into the house and
closed the patio door.

Callan gave him a look that said she was
none too pleased with him and went into the bedroom. When Clay
finally wandered in, Callan sat in bed, flipping through a
magazine. She refused to look at him as he went into the bathroom
and closed the door.

While he brushed his teeth, Clay wondered if
Callan was ready for another dog. She certainly acted loopy over
Cully, though. Maybe he was the one not ready for her to have
another dog.

Although he knew it was childish and stupid,
the attention she’d given the dog made him jealous. He’d just have
to beat the green monster into submission and learn to deal with
it.

Clay walked out of the bathroom annoyed to
find Callan had turned off the light and rolled over onto her edge
of the bed.

A shiver of dread slithered through him as
he quietly slid onto his own side of the bed. He’d enjoyed Callan’s
warmth and love the last few months, but it looked like a cold
front had moved returned.

He settled his head onto the pillow,
wondering what he’d done to deserve the cold shoulder, other than
try to make his wife happy. Clay was surprised when she suddenly
rolled over and threw an arm across his chest. She nearly smothered
him with kisses before he realized what happened.

Gathering a few wits about him, he pulled
Callan close and rubbed his hands along her back. “Whoa, Laney,
what’s this about?”

“For bringing me Cully and making me so
happy, and being the best husband ever.” Callan kissed him along
his jaw, down his neck, then nibbled his ear, making tingles start
at his toes and work their way upward.

“The best husband ever?” His lips captured
hers in an impassioned kiss, lost in the wild sparks flying between
them.

“Mmm. Hmm.”

The days and weeks flew by with unbelievable
speed. Spring gently departed, replaced by the fresh, bright days
of the approaching summer.

Clay looked forward to a summer off from
teaching while Callan worked hard at balancing her day job, the
event planning business, and her family.

She tried to be home more and because of
that, they entertained family and friends with a frequency they
never had in the past. She rediscovered her love of cooking and
socializing. While Clay seemed to enjoy it as well, it was easy to
see his favorite part was eating Callan’s cooking.

They also spent lazy evenings relaxing in
their backyard and playing with Cully. The puppy managed to seek
out and destroy something almost daily.

Callan arrived home one beautiful warm
evening to find Clay looking a bit reserved and uncertain as he
greeted her at the door.

“What’s up, Brick?” she asked as she set
down her purse and briefcase. “You look worried about
something.”

“I have something to show you and now that
I’ve done it, I’m not sure if it was as great an idea as I
originally thought it would be,” Clay answered, nervously shoving
splayed fingers through his thick sandy hair.

“Why don’t you show me and then we can
decide.” Callan grasped the hand he held out to her and gave it an
encouraging squeeze.

He led her out the patio door to a corner of
the backyard. Callan noticed Clay had planted a lovely butterfly
bush and landscaped around it with bark and a few little plants.
Beneath the bush was a small marble plaque that read:

Even the tiniest foot leaves

imprints on your heart.

Zach Clayton Matthews

Our little angel in heaven

Callan sank to her knees and ran her fingers
across the plaque. When she remained quiet, Clay knelt next to her
and gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“It’s a blue bush,” Clay explained, unsure
of what to say. “The lady at the nursery said it will attract
butterflies all summer. It… um… seemed like it would be a little
way to remember Zach. I just wanted…”

Callan turned tear-filled eyes to Clay and
murmured “thank you,” before she threw herself into his arms and
sobbed openly.

He rubbed her back and kissed her temple as
she cried, swallowing down the lump in his own throat.

When Callan could finally speak, she brushed
at her tears and took a deep breath. “That is the most wonderful,
beautiful thing you’ve ever done, Clay. Thank you for this
gift.”

“You’re welcome, Laney,” Clay whispered,
glad he’d followed his instincts and planted the bush as well as
ordered the plaque.

A few days later, on
a Friday afternoon, Callan walked a potential
client around the convention center, showing her the different
meeting rooms and facility amenities. If Mrs. Horner decided to
hold her conference with them, it would mean a significant amount
of revenue. She was a mid-fifties no-nonsense executive who held
the title of vice president of the largest bank in town, served on
the board of several influential committees, and was generally
regarded as one tough cookie.

As Callan escorted her through the main
lobby on the way out to show her the gardens, she saw Clay walk
inside the lobby. He gave her a brief wave, along with a roguish
grin, before flopping down on one of the couches and picking up a
magazine. Callan smiled his direction and wondered what tomfoolery
he had planned.

Bronzed from the time he’d spent outside,
Clay wore a ball cap pushed back on his hair. A dark blue T-shirt
topped khaki cargo shorts that revealed a pair of tanned,
magnificent legs. Most men Callan saw wearing shorts had skinny,
knobby-kneed legs. Of all the many wondrous things about Clay,
Callan thought his legs were amazing with thick thigh muscles and
well-toned calves. She mentally questioned why he was at the
convention center flashing them around.

She took a deep breath and directed her
focus back to Mrs. Horner. Callan turned to find the woman gazing
intently at Clay.

“Do you know that man, Ms. Matthews,” Mrs.
Horner asked in her ever-polite, albeit cool tone. Before Callan
could answer, she cracked the barest hint of a smile. “He is a
perfectly splendid specimen of masculinity.”

Furiously blushing, Callan couldn’t bring
herself to look Mrs. Horner in the eye. “Actually, Mrs. Horner,
he’s my husband.”

Mrs. Horner gasped and looked at Callan in
surprise. Her reserve melted into a broad smile. “Well, I think
he’s just the cat’s pajamas, dearie.” Mrs. Horner placed a warm
hand on her arm and gave it a squeeze. “You’re one very fortunate
young woman if you get to go home to that every evening.”

Callan glanced back at Clay and grinned. “I
am, indeed, Mrs. Horner.” Callan motioned to the gardens outside
and directed Mrs. Horner to the door. “Now, shall we go see what
you think of our outdoor space?”

While she showed Mrs. Horner around outside,
Callan couldn’t stop smiling. Everyone seemed to think she was one
very lucky girl. She was. She wouldn’t deny it.

However, she wondered if the women who
admired Clay would hold the same opinion of him if they knew how
loudly he snored, left his boots and shoes all over the house, and
rarely managed to pick up after himself. She didn’t think they’d be
taken with the way he left his dirty socks on the family room
floor, magazines and papers strewn all over the couch, or his
tendency to shoot the rubber bands off the evening paper at
her.

It was a safe bet that none of Clay’s
admirers would enjoy scraping the remnants of splattered leftovers
from the inside of the microwave after he warmed something without
covering it. She doubted they’d appreciate the odd and varying
parade of smells that met her at the door due to the fact he
couldn’t smell anything. Everything from scorched food and his
nasty sausages to “shop projects” ended up as lingering odors she
could live without. He was completely hopeless when it came to
laundry, cleaning, or weeding.

Clay also possessed an entire arsenal of
noises: the battle cries during football games, the outrageous
laughter at jokes only he found funny, the cavedweller grunts when
he didn’t feel like talking, and last, but certainly not least, the
tonal quality his belching repertoire gained on a daily basis.

Thinking about her handsome husband waiting
inside for her, Callan acknowledged those were small annoyances to
put up with in comparison to all the love, security, joy and
passion Clay brought into her life. As she steered Mrs. Horner back
inside, she noticed Clay no longer sat on the couch. She hoped he
hadn’t left.

“What do you think of our property, Mrs.
Horner? We’d love to work with you,” Callan said, gathering up an
information packet and handing it to the woman.

“Callan, I’m impressed not only with the
facility but also with your level of knowledge and professionalism.
I’m not going to take any more of your time today. Please call me
next Tuesday and we’ll go through the details.” Mrs. Horner
extended her hand to Callan with a genuine smile. “Now, scoot. Go
find that fine-looking husband of yours. He’s not the kind of man
you keep waiting.”

Callan smiled as she escorted Mrs. Horner to
the door and held it open for her. “Thank you, Mrs. Horner. I will
definitely be in touch Tuesday. Have a wonderful rest of the
day.”

Casually, Callan returned to her office with
her back straight and professional demeanor in place. As she walked
past Rachel’s desk, the girl stuck her hand up in the air for a
high-five that Callan gladly gave her, along with a big smile.

“You’ve got someone waiting for you in your
office, Callan. I didn’t think you’d mind,” Rachel said, tipping
her head in the direction of Callan’s door.

“Thanks, Rachel.” Callan pushed her office
door open. Clay sat in her chair, feet up on her desk, drinking a
Dr. Pepper and wearing a smug grin.

“What, pray tell, are you doing?” She tried
to sound stern as she shut the door behind her, but couldn’t keep a
smile off her face.

Clay set down his pop and put his hands
behind his head, leaning back even farther in her chair. “I’m
trying on high-powered successful executive for size. I think I
like underpaid and underappreciated college professor who gets most
of the summer off much better.” He gave her a devilish smile. “I
take it by the twinkle in your eye and the smile on your face that
you just did something fantastic.”

“Yes! We’ve been trying forever to get Mrs.
Horner to host one of her events here - any of her events here. Up
until now, she hasn’t been interested. She finally agreed to take a
property tour. That’s what I was doing when you arrived. She was
quite taken with you, by the way.” Callan paced around the office
in excitement.

Suddenly, she changed gears in her thoughts.
“Why are you here?” Not giving Clay time to answer, she returned to
the subject of Mrs. Horner. “Then she said to call her Tuesday to
go over details. Gaining her as a client is a huge coup, if I do
say so myself.” Callan rocked back and forth on her heels, looking
like she’d just won first place in a contest.

Quickly rising from the desk, Clay walked
around it and gave Callan a big hug then stepped back to look into
her face. “Congratulations, Laney. I’m so proud of you! Do you want
to celebrate?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Callan pretended she
wasn’t nearly as excited as she was in reality.

Clay pulled her close and nuzzled her ear.
His voice rumbled in a deep, husky growl when he spoke. “We could
start the celebration now.” He pressed a trail of hot, steamy
kisses down her neck and let his hands freely roam where they
pleased.

Callan shivered with pleasure, blushed with
embarrassment, and gave Clay a swat on his arm. “I think the sun
has addled your brain.” She pulled away from him and attempted to
gather her poise. “Now, be a good boy and tell me what you’re doing
here this afternoon.”

“I may need some coaxing to divulge that
information.” Clay flashed his dimples and cocked his head.

Callan gave him a warm smile. She walked
over to her desk, bent down, and picked up her purse. She took out
a piece of paper, folded it in half, and waggled it in her fingers.
“Would you like to see what’s on my to-do list for this weekend?”
she asked sweetly.

“Yes, I would. It might convince me to share
why I came in today.” Clay reached for the paper.

Callan jerked it out of his reach and put it
behind her back. Shaking her head, she gave him a warning glare.
“Not so fast, buster. You give the game away and then you get to
see the list.”

Clay gave Callan a momentary look of defeat
before he lunged at her, trapping her in his arms while tickling
her sides.

She squirmed against him. “Clay, stop,
someone could walk in here any minute.” Callan gasped, trying to
straighten her jacket and recover her composure.

Clay just laughed and nuzzled her ear again.
“That didn’t bother you a second ago.” He planted another kiss on
her neck, working his way down to the top button of her blouse.
When he started to undo it, she sighed.

“Okay, you win. Here’s the list.” Callan
shoved it in his face and took a step back.

Eagerly grabbing the list, Clay opened it
then burst into a wide smile. Callan’s to-do list for the weekend
was very short.