“So...?”

“Peter’s coming here to pick me up, and Scott’s coming with. Gabby, I don’t think he’s going to take no for an answer tonight. Peter can’t shake him.” Her emphatic expression told me the degree of insistence Scott had used to accompany Peter.

I groaned, flopped back on my bed, and forgetting about Clay, landed on him. He didn’t even twitch, but I still reached back to pat him.

“Sorry, Clay.” I froze mid-pat then bolted upright. “I’ve got an idea! Rachel, if you have any clothes that would say I’ve been dating a guy for a while, can I borrow them?” I didn’t want to spend any money unnecessarily.

“Sure, but who are you dating?”

Rachel moved out of the way as I rushed from my room. I heard Clay hop down from the bed to follow me. I grabbed shoes from the closet. My plan could work. I just needed to convince Clay. They both trailed behind me as I struggled to slip on some shoes while I walked to the kitchen. It wasn’t easy. I almost tripped twice and covered most of the distance hopping instead of walking. I grabbed my car keys.

“I’ll let you know when I bring him home. Come on, Clay,” I called, holding the door open for him. With a baffled glint in his eyes, he followed me.

I rushed to the car and waved for him to hurry. I had the doors slammed closed and the engine rumbling seconds later. Clay studied me as I careened out the driveway and took off in the direction of the shopping district.

“You’re here to keep me safe, right?” I took his grunt as a yes. “Then, I need you to be more than my dog.” I risked a glance at him. He tilted his head at me clearly confused. “I need you to put on your skin. Be my date tonight. Please?”

I sounded desperate, but I didn’t really care. The thought of Scott cornering me gave me shivers. His normal personality probably qualified as nice, but I’d seen how the obsession had worked on others. Scott’s fascination with me had obviously advanced. Yet, if Clay were to run interference as my date, it could permanently dissolve.

“You took a shower today, right?” I expected the harrumph he let out. “Do you know what size you wear? Shirt, pants, shoes?” Unhelpful, he continued to stare at me.

Given what he’d worn when I first saw him, he probably didn’t know. It made my work a little bit more difficult, but I would manage.

I found an open spot and careened into it, slamming on the brakes at the last second. Only Clay’s good balance kept him from falling out of the seat.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I said as I rushed out the door.

Inside the store, I tried to remember how he’d looked as a man. Hairy. Dirty. Tall. Well, taller than me. Had he seemed thin or chubby? I couldn’t remember. His jacket had obscured most of his shape, and I’d been distracted by the whole “hey, I’m your Mate” thing.

Usually, when I shopped on my own, it didn’t turn out well. However, my crazed sprints from rack to rack held most of the men I encountered at bay. So, I scoured the clearance racks and guessed at sizes while trying to stick with safe styles.

Panting for breath, I raced to a register. I bought Clay a linen pant and shirt set, the largest brown foam bottomed sandals I could find—I could always cut the foam down to size—and a few other essentials.

Then, I ran out of the store. Clay was standing on the seat. He just stared at me as I opened the car door and tossed the bags at him. They landed at his feet.

I started the engine and tried to think where I could take him to get dressed. Somewhere he could walk in as a dog and out as a man. I couldn’t think of a single place that allowed dogs in changing areas. I’d just have to try to pull a fast one on Rachel. I put the car in gear and drove it as if I’d stolen it. I made it to the house in record time.

Rachel was already dressed and standing outside by the back door when we got home. She had a stack of clothes in her arms.

“Where’s the date?” she said as her eyes searched the empty car. “They are going to be here in fifteen minutes.”

I waved her back into the house. “He’ll be here in a few minutes. I hope.”

We followed her in, and I paused to toss the bag of new clothes in the bathroom for Clay. I really hoped he’d help me.

“Let’s go in my room, and you can help me pick what to wear,” I said to Rachel.

“Really?” she said with an excited smile. She’d already noticed I liked my privacy and usually left me alone. But, I expected the opportunity to dress me would distract her from noticing that Clay hadn’t followed us from the kitchen or, later, his absence.

“I need something a little tropical, or hippie-ish,” I said as I closed the door and started to undress.

Rachel set the clothes on the bed, her expression filled with suspicion.

“Who is this guy? Why do you need to dress like a hippie?”

“He’s a good friend, and he didn’t have much notice to go home to change. Because I’m cheap, I got him some clean clothes from the summer closeout racks.” I spoke a little louder for Clay’s benefit. I wanted him to know why I purchased what I had.

Rachel looked up at my sudden surge in volume. Clearly, my weirdness had just increased a level. I motioned to the pile of clothes to distract her. She began to riffle through them, searching for something to fit my requirements.

“He’s got longish hair so I think he might look like a hippie in what I bought.” At least, I thought he might still have longish hair. It’d been months since I last saw him. “He was just behind me. I told him he could use our bathroom to change.”

“How good of a friend is he?” she asked.

I smiled. “Well, we’ve slept together.”

She surprised me by not saying anything. Instead, she held up a few options. I picked a flowing, knee-length, cream skirt with a light yellow, scoop-necked top and hurried to get dressed.

“You do know that the best way to appear like you’ve been dating a long time would be to look like you don’t care how you look, right?” she asked.

I rolled my eyes at her, gave the skirt one last tug to straighten it, and studied myself in the mirror. Dressing up was a gamble. It might send the wrong message to Scott even with Clay present. Maybe I should follow Rachel’s advice and dress down. But then Clay would look out of place in his clothes.

“That looks great on you,” Rachel complimented as she scooped up the rejects.

Worried Clay might need more time, I stalled by asking her how I should fix my hair. I didn’t own any make-up to apply.

“So what’s the guy’s name?” Rachel watched me closely.

“Clay,” I admitted reluctantly. Since I’d asked a huge favor of him, I couldn’t lie about his name.

“Shut up,” she said with a laugh of disbelief.

“Not lying,” I said, holding up my hands in the mirror. “He talks as much as the dog, too. So don’t bother trying to make conversation.”

I figured I’d pushed our time limit and turned to let Rachel inspect me. She smiled her approval then dashed to her room to ditch the extra clothes. We crossed paths in the living room as she went to look out the picture window, and I went to find Clay.

The door to the bathroom remained firmly closed. I tapped on it.

“Do you need help?” I whispered.

Unfortunately, Rachel overheard and started sniggering behind me. Apparently, there was nothing to see out the window. I tried to shoo her away with a wave, but she shook her head and leaned against the hallway wall to watch.

“Please hurry, Clay,” I begged.

The door opened. I took a step back to avoid the cloud of steam that rolled out. Clay stepped out with it. Stunned, I stared at him. I hadn’t seen him since the beginning of the summer. Well, excluding that brief look at his backside. I’d been too shocked to notice the rest of him, then.

He still looked scruffy. Between the beard that concealed his cheeks and entire neck, and the full mouth-covering mustache, I still couldn’t see much of him. His damp hair hung in limp, wavy strands in front of his eyes and covered the top portion of his face almost down to his nose. Yet, clean and dressed in the clothes I’d forced onto him, he looked amazing.