I didn’t wait for an answer but went to the kitchen to get him his own bowl and split the popcorn between the two. In the living room, I set his bowl on the floor within his reach. Then, I curled into my end of the couch and tucked my feet under him. With my bowl balanced at my side, I reached for the remote.

I’d barely started the movie when he sighed gustily, repositioned himself, and laid his head on my curled legs. The heat of him relaxed me, and I settled in comfortably, content not to move him. I ate a piece of popcorn as I watched the intro. His head shifted on my leg, following the piece of popcorn. I absently took another piece and offered it to him. He gently ate it from my fingers. I offered him a few more pieces, not fully paying attention when he licked the back of my hand.

The second movie was more an action-suspense than comedy. Halfway through the movie, I’d abandoned my bowl of popcorn to the floor. One of my hands burrowed in the thick fur at Clay’s neck, and the other lightly worried his fuzzy ear. He didn’t seem to mind my grip as I stared at the screen. At a particularly suspenseful part, the front door opened. It scared me so badly that a strangled scream tore through the air. My scream. My heart pounded as both Rachel and Clay stared at me.

“And that’s why I don’t watch suspense movies,” I said to both of them once I could breathe again. Clay didn’t stop laughing for two minutes. Rachel laughed just as hard and thankfully didn’t notice Clay’s reaction.

Clay licked my exposed midriff then, finally, settled down.

I gently tugged on his ear. “Cut it out,” I scolded softly.

“So when did Clay leave? I thought he’d still be here after you said I shouldn’t hurry home.” Rachel kicked off her shoes and flopped sideways on the chair.

I turned off the movie to give her my full attention. “Nah, I turned my back, and he took off on me.” I patted Clay on the head, and he snorted. “It’s okay, though, I have my favorite guy here.” And I realized it was true. I liked no man better than I liked Clay in his fur. Sam used to take first place, but I still felt disappointed in him for not warning me about the last Introduction and about the possibility of Clay showing up at the back door.

“He was a little scary looking if you ask me,” Rachel said as she reached over to pet Clay. Turned away from her, he took the opportunity to arch a brow at me. I fought to keep my face straight.

“When I first met him, I told him he looked like a crazy man. I still think he’s crazy, but he’s also nice and dependable.” Clay heaved a sigh. It seemed werewolves didn’t like to be described as nice either.

“So does he ever act like Scott?”

“No way.” It came out so fast I had to pause and rethink it. Nope, I definitely spoke the truth. “Most guys talk about themselves to try to impress me, or they just act scary obsessive. Clay’s different. I don’t think I affect him like I do other guys.”

I looked away from both of them, thinking. At times, he showed his possessive streak—like when I’d gone on the double date—but he didn’t act obsessive. According to my reliable sources of werewolf lore, Clay did feel a strong pull for me, but it was dissimilar to what human men felt. His pull, the werewolf version, should make him territorial and controlling, but he never seemed affected by any of that. Yet, for some reason, he stayed.

“I think he just likes being with me,” I said. I noticed Clay looking up at me and met his gaze. Even when he wrecked the truck back at the Compound, he didn’t creep on me like most guys had. “And I’m grateful that I get to be normal around him.”

Rachel laughed at me. “You sound like you’re really serious about him. Why didn’t you talk about him before this? And why didn’t you say the dog had the same name? We could have changed it.”

I decided to ignore the part about being serious. “I wasn’t sure if or when he’d make an appearance. And I like the name Clay. Besides, he doesn’t mind.” I wasn’t sure if I was talking about Clay-the-dog or Clay-the-man anymore.

Rachel switched topics. “We should probably talk about overnight visitors. What rules do we want to set?”

“Um...no loud noises?”

“Come on!” Rachel laughed louder. “I meant, weekends only? Maybe guests till midnight on weekdays? Notice needed? You know, that kind of stuff.”

She grinned at me, still lounged sideways on the chair. I really didn’t want to have this conversation with Clay present. He lay quietly, head on my lap, considerately pretending to sleep.

“I don’t know. I trust you and your judgment, and you can trust my lack of a social life. I really don’t think I’ll see Clay very often so you don’t need to worry.”

“Oh, he’ll be back. I saw the way he watched you. Are you sure the only rule you can come up with is no loud noises?”

I thought of adding that she should warn me when we had a visitor, but I looked down at Clay and figured we had it covered.

“Yeah, I think we’re fine.”

“Great!” she said with a huge grin. Then she cupped her hands and yelled, “Peter!”

The front door immediately opened and a sheepish looking Peter entered.

“You were supposed to text me,” he muttered uncomfortably.

I laughed. “Come on in, Peter. Clay and I were just going to bed.” Clay jumped off the couch first, and I got up to follow him into my room. “Night, guys.”

“Another early Friday night for us,” I whispered to Clay after I closed the door.

I pulled back the covers and slid between the sheets. Clay settled in his usual spot and began to breathe deeply while I lay awake thinking about the conversation with Rachel.

As she’d pointed out, Clay wasn’t like the other guys. At the Compound, when I’d felt the pull Sam had warned me about, I’d panicked. I’d thought Clay would be just like the rest and that I would spend the rest of my life trying to avoid him.

When he’d shown up at the door as a dog, and not as a man, he’d thrown me off guard. Now, I realized he’d been pretty smart about it. Somehow, he’d known I would be more likely to give him a chance as a dog than as a man. Again, I’d underestimated his intelligence.

Rachel was also right about Clay watching me. He followed me everywhere. I assumed his attentiveness was to observe and learn. What if it wasn’t? His quiet presence had already lulled me into indifference over his company. I needed to be more careful.

Chapter 11

The next morning, I tiredly went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. My deep thoughts had kept me awake longer than I’d intended, and I felt like Sam looked most mornings. Instead of coffee, I wanted my OJ.

I squinted against the harsh light and scanned the sparse contents of my designated shelf for the orange liquid of life. No orange juice. Shuffling the contents around didn’t change the answer. Nope, not there. Straightening, I surveyed the kitchen and spotted its remains in the recycling.

The shower turned on in the bathroom, and I remembered Peter had stayed over. I looked down at Clay, who silently accompanied me, as usual.

“Great. Another non-coffee person,” I complained to him.

Since I drank the last of the milk yesterday, I went for a glass of water instead. The faucet handle jiggled loosely in my hand, and only a trickle came out.

“Seriously?” I mumbled as Rachel glided into the kitchen.

“Looks like I’ll have to call the hottie plumber back.”

“No, thanks. And no big guy showing two inches of crack, either.” I settled for a third of a glass of water and turned off the faucet.

Rachel might have thought the plumber hot, but he’d been bigheaded about it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get rid of him so easily a second time. Having narrowly avoided one potential stalker, there was no way I would invite another one in.

“I was going to go pick up Clay later, anyway,” I lied. “I’ll have him look at it.” I smiled at Rachel as Clay’s head whipped up at me. I’d beg him again if I had to.