“I’m so tired I doubt anything will keep me from sleeping.”

“‘K. Night, Hun. Thanks for going with me even if it did suck,” she said, giving me a smile.

“Don’t worry about it. Night.” I walked into my room and closed the door behind me as she turned on the TV.

Clay lay on the foot of the bed, his usual spot. His head rested on his paws. He still had his eyes open.

“Thanks, Clay.” As I passed him, I stopped to kiss the top of his furry head. He made a funny grunt noise that made me smile. Probably his wolf version of “no problem.” I crawled under the covers and wiggled my feet under his body to the spot he’d already warmed.

I felt Clay relax a moment before he let out a gusty breath. He started to breathe deeply, and I tried to unwind as well. Going on a double date hadn’t turned out as badly as it could have.

Chapter 9

It was still dark when I woke. Not only dark, but also colder. The mild weather we’d enjoyed last night while eating outside had apparently fled with the sun. I nestled under the covers, trying to avoid the chill in the air. When I stretched my legs searching for Clay’s weighted warmth, I felt nothing. His spot was cool.

“Clay?”

My bedroom door creaked open, and he jumped up on the mattress, causing it to bounce. He settled on my feet, and his heat immediately warmed me.

“Thanks.”

Laying my head back down on the pillow, I burrowed deeper. The warm nights of summer, of sleeping with the window open, had retired for the year. Soon, going outside during the day would require a jacket. The thought was a little depressing. I didn’t really care for the cold.

I wanted to sleep a little longer and tried to close my eyes again but they popped back open on their own. Clearly awake, I knew I should really get out of bed and do something. Yet, the thought made me cringe...until I remembered I owed Clay for last night. This early, there’d be no one around outside, especially with this first cold snap. We needed to take advantage of the still above freezing weather and do something together. He’d like that.

“Hey, Clay. Wanna go get breakfast with me?”

With a sigh, he jumped back down off the bed.

“You could have said no,” I said with a soft laugh as I rolled out from under the covers.

Grabbing my clothes, I tiptoed to the bathroom. When I reemerged, Clay sat next to the back door, waiting patiently. I glanced at the car keys. Drive or walk? Walking would save money, and I enjoyed it.

“You up for a walk?” I kept my voice low since I didn’t want to wake Rachel.

The idea of walking outside with Clay before dawn made me smile. He looked like a beast. Any sane man would keep his distance. It would be vastly different from the heckling first walk I had taken to campus.

When he didn’t move away, I took that as affirmation and clipped on his leash, loosely looping it around his collar so I wouldn’t need to hold it. He turned to me with a questioning look.

“What? I’m following the law...you’re on a leash. Let’s go.”

I opened the door, and we soundlessly slipped outside. As expected, crisp air engulfed us, but the lack of wind made it tolerable. After pulling the hood up over my loose hair, I tucked my hands into the pockets of my hoodie and stepped off the porch, suspiciously testing the air to see if my breath clouded. Clay trudged next to me, still looking a little tired.

We walked in the direction of the campus, toward a small diner that was open all day, six days a week, closed Sundays. Well-known on campus, Ma’s Kitchen served good, cheap food for the perpetually broke college kid. With ten dollars in my pocket, I figured we could stuff ourselves before walking back home.

The sidewalks remained empty. Streetlights buzzed overhead. The soft scrape of Clay’s nails on the pavement comforted me, and I filled my lungs, relaxing. Very few cars passed us as we made our way from one pool of light to the next.

The walk to campus offered an eclectic array of buildings. Businesses jumbled in with residences. Some so close together their shadows merged, creating perfect places for hiding. But Clay’s calm presence allowed me to enjoy the walk without using my sight.

We strolled in companionable silence for a few minutes before I spoke up.

“So what do you like for breakfast? Oatmeal?” He laughed, and I smiled back. “Yeah, I was thinking you’re more a steak and eggs kinda guy.”

“Who you talking to dar’lin?” a man called as he stepped out from the shadows across the narrow street. His sudden appearance made my heart race.

“My dog.” Even though I considered this area safe, it paid to be smart. So I whispered to Clay, asking him to bark. He obliged with a deep “woof” that almost scared me. The sound bounced off the surrounding buildings. I hoped it wouldn’t wake anyone.

“Damn,” the man called back, keeping pace with us on the opposite sidewalk. “That thing on a leash?”

“Yep, but there’s no holding him back. I’m safer letting him go or he’d just drag me along.”

The man laughed. “I bet. Have a good morning,” he called before turning at the next corner to walk around the block.

“You trust that?” I asked Clay, watching the man’s retreating form. Clay harrumphed.

“Me neither. And thanks for warning me there was someone close by,” I said. He made a noise I interpreted between a snort and a laugh.

“Brat.” I smiled down at him.

Night sounds began to fade, and I heard the occasional bird call out, though dawn was still an hour away. Clay continued to pace alertly by my side until we reached the diner. Judging from the empty parking lot, they didn’t get much business this early. Still, the air outside smelled like frying breakfast sausage. Delicious. Beside me, Clay’s stomach rumbled.

“Since they don’t allow dogs, I’ll go in and get our food for carryout,” I said, pulling open the door. He obediently sat just outside, the position enabling him to watch me through the glass.

When I entered, the waitress set down the basket of jellies she’d been using to refill the jelly holders on the tables and moved to the register.

“Good morning,” she said with a chipper smile. “How are you this morning?”

Wow. A people-person and a morning-person. I weakly smiled back and ordered.

As soon as I had our breakfast, I brought it out to Clay. We sat together on one of the cement parking blocks in front of the building. The early-morning traffic crept along quietly, keeping the illusion of solitude.

I opened his container and started to cut up his steak. He laughed at me again, and I shushed him. He could laugh all he wanted. He usually ate so fast I worried he’d choke. I set his container on the ground for him when I finished. He dug in, making it hard to think of him as a man.

“I hope you’re a slower eater when you’re in your skin,” I commented.

He stopped eating and looked at me. Too late, I realized how critical my comment had sounded. I tried to soften it.

“It’s just that you eat faster than me. That’s all.” It sounded lame.

I felt worse when he made an effort to eat slower. He still finished first. In an attempt to make up for my thoughtless comment, I offered him the rest of my breakfast, too. When he finished, I threw our containers away in the parking lot trash can.

We began the long walk back, with each of us lost in our own thoughts. Well, I was lost in mine, anyway. I didn’t know what to say to take away the sting from my words. Why didn’t I think before I spoke to him? I sometimes forgot about the man beneath the fur and tended just to talk, letting anything flow from my mouth without much thought. Sure, I may have meant what I said, but I could have found a better, nicer, way to say it. Maybe.

Distracted and dwelling on my own thoughts, I paid no attention to my surroundings until Clay began to growl. My head snapped up in surprise at the soft, menacing sound. Clay stopped walking. His head turned so he watched the space between two houses on our left. Dawn still hadn’t lightened the sky, so I saw nothing but shadows.