We stood just a few inches apart. The close proximity brought the corded muscles under his snug t-shirt to my attention. I tried not to notice. He was downright drool worthy. I considered reaching out to touch him, just to see how he felt without fur. But his possible reaction stopped me. Would he take it as a sign of acceptance? Of interest? I’d meant what I’d said to Rachel. Clay didn’t act like other guys. I didn’t want to push my luck.

With a sigh, he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. His movement shot a wave of panic straight through me, and I froze. Had he caught me eyeing him? Did he think that meant I wanted him to try to kiss me? I didn’t know what to do.

His nostrils flared. He slowly shook his head and pulled back, and I knew he had smelled my fear. He didn’t completely move away, just distanced himself enough so that I could breathe and think and not freak out. I caught the glint of his eyes behind his long hair. Calm. Patient. So this wasn’t about a kiss. But then what was he trying to do?

“You’re trying to explain the teeth, right?” I sounded pathetic, like a child who needed reassurance. I tried not to fidget on top of that.

He gave me the reassurance I needed in one of his rare nods.

Okay. No kissing. Just him moving closer. He slept at the foot of my bed every night. That was pretty close—right on my feet—and no big deal. But he had fur on when he did that. Now he looked...

I eyed him again. My stomach did a funny flip. Maybe my fear wasn’t about his reaction, but mine. I was afraid I’d forget myself. I needed his control. I took a deep breath.

“It’s okay then. Go ahead, explain. I’ll behave,” I promised quietly. I saw his mustache twitch with a quick smile. The canines explained some of the facial hair, but the full-bearded, crazy-man look seemed overkill.

After a slight hesitation, he leaned forward again while keeping his hands loose at his sides. I pushed back the fear and held still. He didn’t stop his slow approach until his whiskers tickled the side of my neck and collarbone. There he paused and inhaled deeply.

As soon as he inhaled, I knew what he was doing, and although I didn’t move, fear blossomed. Heart pounding, eyes wide, I waited for him to finish scenting me as a werewolf would a potential Mate, not a distant inhale, but an up-close sample of my scent, infinitely more potent. His warm exhale sent goose bumps skittering over my arms. I braced myself, anticipating some type of slip in his highly-praised control. He leisurely inhaled once more then lifted his head, exhaling as he went.

With his face only inches from mine, he opened his mouth to display his teeth again. The canines had grown even more pronounced, the surrounding gums swollen from their thickness.

I didn’t know what to say. He had canines when in his human form because of me.

“So, when you’re around me, they’re worse? I guess that means they’re like that all the time.”

He shrugged and casually took a step back. I was unsure what the shrug meant.

We both heard a car pull into the driveway, and I knew questioning him further would have to wait. I remembered the new clothes still on the bathroom floor and moved away from him.

“I gotta move your clothes. I’ll be right back.”

When I returned, Rachel was kneeling, petting Clay-the-dog. She asked me why we had a man’s clothes on the kitchen chair. Clay impassively met my gaze. Darn him. Why hadn’t he just stayed Clay-the-man?

“Clay stopped by and fixed the sink. He figured he would leave a change of clothes because of last night,” I lied. Thankfully, Rachel focused on the fixed plumbing rather than the fact I had a man leaving clothes behind at our house.

“The sink’s working? And for free?”

I shrugged, feeling very Clayish, and grabbed the clothes. As I walked from the room to put them away, she continued to talk to Clay using her normal nonsense babble. He was such a good boy and so handsome. Did I treat him well while she was gone? Did he want a treat? I sniggered, put the clothes away, then sat on the couch and left Clay to his torture.

Done with her affectionate praise, she released him. He trotted from the kitchen and sat on the floor near me. She went to her room to change, leaving her door open so she could talk.

“I just heard the weather report, and we’re going to get a cold snap this week. Frost. With past roommates, we always tried to make it to November first before turning on the heat.”

“That’s fine by me,” I answered.

"Even though the landlord replaced the windows, air still somehow gets in. They’re better than they were and seemed to help the AC run less. But if Clay knows anything about weatherproofing, maybe that’ll help us save even more on the heating bill.”

I looked at Clay. “Know how to weatherproof a house?” I whispered.

“What?” Rachel asked from her room.

“Nothing, just talking to Clay.”

The rest of the weekend passed like the one before, with studying and turning pages for Clay-the-dog. Although I still wanted to know about his pronounced teeth in man-form, I couldn’t come up with any reason to ask him to shift again. When I tried asking him about his teeth while he wore his fur, he just walked away from me. I couldn’t tell if he did that because he was moody or just bored with my conversation.

Monday night, I got home and Clay stood in the kitchen cooking dinner for two. I had to suppress the happy-dance I wanted to do and, instead, nonchalantly walked by him. A note on the table from Rachel explained she had gone out with Peter and would be back late. The note stressed alone.

Since Clay’s last appearance, I’d thought of several questions to ask him—starting with his teeth—and hoped he wouldn’t get annoyed and go fur on me again. I decided to ease him into my agenda.

“Wow, I didn’t know you cooked. It smells great.” I set my messenger bag on a chair and hovered behind him, watching him work.

He pulled baked potatoes from the oven. To the side, two plates waited with steaming chicken breasts. Seeing dinner almost ready, I grabbed flatware for us and sat down.

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

He set a plate in front of me and sat down. He pointed to the last batch of books I’d brought home that he had piled neatly on the table between us.

“You read them all already?”

He nodded.

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

He glanced up at me then back down at his food. Maybe I needed to work on my teasing. I supposed smiling would have helped.

“So, about the beard...are your teeth ready to play nice?” That got an actual laugh from him. A short one, but still very nice.

“Does that mean we can trim your beard?” I asked, excited by the prospect. The scissors would also make a beeline for his hair. How could I read his face when he kept it so hidden? Since he didn’t actually speak, it hindered our communication even further.

He shook his head, and my face fell. I looked back down at my plate, feeling silly for the stab of disappointment because I wouldn’t get to see more of his face tonight. Lost in my own thoughts, it took me a second to realize he’d stopped eating. He leaned back in his chair and studied me.

Pretending not to notice, I gave him a slight smile and, for a change, I kept my thoughts to myself.

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

He watched me for another minute as I ate. I tucked away my disappointment and annoyance, and tried not to let my face show anything I felt. I knew neither emotion did me any good, and both made it hard to enjoy the food. I pushed a few bites around on my plate before he finally uncrossed his arms and picked his fork back up to start eating again.