The entire day seemed surreal to Dylan.
By the time she finished showering and getting ready for the day, Clay had fixed the door and cleaned up the kitchen and living room. He'd even vacuumed the carpet in the living room where shredded leaves and bits of glass had scattered the floor. The man had tracked in the glass after he broke in.
Dylan didn't bother with make-up since Clay was waiting for her. She hated the feeling of keeping someone waiting. It was stressful. Instead, she gave her hair a quick blow dry, gathered up her toiletries, and carried everything into the bedroom.
For a split second, she could see the man standing by her bed, waiting for her, but when she blinked, his image was gone. She wondered how long it would be before she could go into her bedroom without seeing him there.
She gave herself a mental shake. She wasn't going to let this mess with her head any more than it already had. She'd be more vigilant about what was going on around her, but she wasn't going to live her life in fear. Not if she could help it.
Now that she knew he was watching her, she'd be looking for him. And if she saw him again, she would do something. Though she needed figure out what that something would be.
Dylan dressed in a matching long-sleeved shirt and joggers so she could be warm and comfortable while she packed. After she was clothed, she dragged out a couple of suitcases and stood in front of her closet with her hands on her hips, staring at her clothes.
"What are you doing?" Clay asked from right behind her.
Dylan squealed and whirled around, clutching her chest. "You scared me to death!" she yelled.
Clay was instantly contrite. "I'm so sorry. I thought you heard me clomping through the house."
"I was concentrating."
"On what?"
"I don't know how much to bring," she said. "Enough clothes for a week? Two weeks? What happens if they can't figure out who this guy is anytime soon? I can't live with your forever."
Clay wasn't sure he'd mind if she stayed forever, but he didn't say so. Instead, he just said, "Pack enough for two or three weeks. If they find him before then, great, and if not, you'll have enough clothes to last for a while."
She studied him with wary eyes as she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. "That won't freak you out?"
Clay shrugged. "Nope. Unless you want to bring half your furniture. That might do it."
As he hoped, Dylan smiled and laughed a little. "Okay. I'll pack both suitcases then."
"Anything I can do to help?" he asked.
"You've already done so much. You fixed my door and cleaned up the mess that guy left," Dylan said.
"Yeah, but it's not like I have a limit for helpfulness," he said. "Put me to work. Besides, it's nearly lunch time and my breakfast is about to wear off. You need to eat also."
"Okay, okay," she said. "Why don't you gather up my plants and get them ready to go? I have several pots in the kitchen and living room. Oh, and the orchid in my bathroom. Don't take them out of the house yet because I'll have to explain what's going on before we leave."
Clay blinked. "You'll have to explain what's going on?"
"I know it sounds weird, but they know what I'm saying, even if they can't really answer."
To her utter surprise, he shrugged and said, "Okay. That makes sense."
He left the room without another word and she got busy packing. Thirty minutes later, she'd jammed as many clothes and toiletries into her two suitcases as she could. She'd also unearthed a tote bag she used to use when she went to the gym and had filled it with shoes.
After double-checking that she wasn't forgetting anything important, Dylan zipped up her suitcases, slid them off the bed, and wheeled them into the living room with the tote bag sitting on top of one.
She blinked when she saw all of her plants sitting on the coffee table and the floor right in front of it. Clay was nowhere to be seen. She stuck her head outside the front door but he wasn't there. Confused, she decided to try the back. A quick peek out the window revealed Clay walking around her patio, taking measurements with a tape measure.
Dylan opened the back door and went outside. "What are you doing?" she asked.
Clay looked up from the little notepad he was writing on. "I'm measuring your patio for furniture. You don't even have a chair out here."
"You don't need to buy me patio furniture," she argued.
"Who said I'm buying it?" he asked absently, going back to his notepad.
"You don't need to make me patio furniture either. I doubt I could even afford to pay you for the materials."
He looked up then and waggled his eyebrows. "I'm sure we could work out a payment plan."
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Clay, seriously, don't make me patio furniture."
"Fine," he said with a sigh, tucking the notebook back in his pocket. "I'll wait for your birthday. Or Christmas. Are you done packing?"
The last question threw her. "Uh, yeah. Thanks for getting all my plants together."
"What about the ones back here?"
A little embarrassed, Dylan answered, "I'll go out and tell them. I've already asked Sylvie to come out and water them and talk to them."
He seemed amused by her response.
"Can you give me a minute?" she asked, even more embarrassed to have him watch her talk to her plants.
"Sure. I'll go load your suitcases into the truck."
She waited a few seconds after he left before she talked to the plants about where she was going and why. As she told Clay, they responded in their own way. Outdoor plants were more independent than indoor, so she wasn't too worried about them. After a quick good-bye, she went back into the house and started speaking to the indoor plants.
"We have to leave the house for a while," she told them, reaching out with her magic. "You'll still be with me, just at Clay's house."
They all seemed to understand and accept what was happening, so when Clay came back into the house, she and the plants were both ready to go.
Together, they loaded the pots up in his truck and a few in her car. Once she double-checked that the doors were locked, she climbed into her car and headed back toward Clay's house. He followed directly behind her, not even letting a car between them.
Any other time, having him tailgate her would have annoyed the shit out of her, but not today.
Unloading the car at his house wasn't as difficult. He carried her suitcases inside while she unloaded plants. As she had at her own place, Dylan let the plants guide her on where she should place them. They all seemed to love the numerous windows at Clay's house and the space that they could have.
By the time she was done, Dylan realized she hadn't seen Clay since he brought the last few pots inside.
"Clay?" she called.
"Back here."
She followed his voice to his bedroom. As she walked in, he turned from the big dresser, his arms full of stuff.
"There are two empty drawers on the right side," he said.
"You didn't have to do that," she said.
He grunted. "I've been meaning to clean them out for a while anyway. I keep grabbing socks with holes or boxers with shot elastic or ripped crotches, so you're saving me from annoyance."
He carried the items in question out of the room and Dylan stared at the two drawers still standing open.
"Oh, and there's plenty of space in the closet. I don't have much shit in there anyway."
Dylan had no idea how she felt about this. She hadn't lived with a man before so she didn't know if his nonchalant attitude was typical or not. She expected him to be irritable at having his space invaded, not relaxed. Especially considering how grumpy he usually was about other people.
Clay openly admitted that he didn't like most people, yet he was clearing space out for her things as if he were happy that she was staying with him rather than begrudging.
Dylan walked over to the bed, unzipped her suitcases, and started unpacking. As she arranged socks, underwear, and pajamas in the drawers in question, Clay returned to the bedroom.
"I ordered pizza for lunch." He hesitated. "And a salad since you insist we should eat vegetables at every meal."
Dylan smiled and closed the drawers. "We should. It's good for you." She walked to the suitcases and grabbed a couple of shirts, carrying them into his closet. A few seconds later, she came back out. "Uh, you have plenty of space for my stuff but no hangers."
"Shit," he said. "Hang on."
He disappeared again and came back a few minutes later with a couple of handfuls of hangers. "I keep my extras in my laundry room."
He set them on the bed next to her suitcases.
"Thanks," she said.
Clay watched her hang up clothes for a few minutes before he jumped in and started helping. They were almost done when the doorbell rang.
"That's the pizza. I'll be right back."
"Don't worry about it," she said. "We're almost done anyway."
A couple of minutes later, she was done hanging up clothes and stowed her suitcases in the closet. When she walked out of the bedroom, the scent of pizza hit her, making her mouth water.
She followed her nose to the kitchen and found Clay putting salad and pizza on a couple of paper plates.
"I figured we'd eat at the counter," he said. "That cool?"
"Sure," she said. "What do you want to drink?"
"There's some Coke in the fridge. I have some of that sparkling water you brought over the other day too if you want it."
"Sounds good."
It struck Dylan as they sat at the counter with their food and drinks that this was a cozy scene, as though they'd been a couple for years rather than a handful of weeks.
"This is kinda weird," she said, taking a sip of her lime-flavored sparkling water.
"Why?" he asked. Clay took a huge bite of pizza and watched her as she tried to formulate her answer.
"I just moved in with you and we've only been dating a few weeks. That doesn't freak you out?"
He swallowed his bite. "Not really."
She watched him take his second bite and realized over half his slice of pizza was gone. The man could put food away. It was disconcerting.
"Does it freak you out?" he asked around his pizza.
"Yeah, it does," she said.
"Why?"
"Because it's so damn fast," she replied, finally starting on her own pizza.
"It's not permanent," he said.
Ouch, that hurt. Suddenly, her throat closed up and she had to swallow hard to force the bite of pizza down. Dylan took a sip of her sparkling water and stared down at her plate, no longer the least bit hungry.
"Hey," he said, his hand covering hers. "I was trying to make you feel better, not depress you. If it's too fast for you, it's too fast. There's no rule saying we're gonna break up when you move out. If you move out. You may decide you can't live without me and refuse to leave."
He said it with such conviction that it made her smile a little. "You don't think you'd have a problem with that?"
"I don't know. You don't snore, so that's a plus. You claim to be a decent cook and you like to play strip Scrabble. Oh, and you don't make me watch chick flicks. I think I could put up with you."
Dylan laughed. "If those are your only parameters, I'm shocked you aren't married yet."
"That's an easy one," he said. "My mom and sister have scared off any other woman who might even remotely resemble you. So far, you don't seem too scared of them."
"You met Sylvie. Now, imagine four more of her. Her sisters are all Valkyries, and her mom, so when the five of them get together they make your mom and sister look like cuddly little kittens."
Clay's brows rose. "She has four sisters? Damn. Does she have a father or did they devour him during childhood?"
"Yeah, they have a dad," Dylan said, rolling her eyes. "He's a nice guy. Really laid back, but somehow they don't run roughshod over him. They treat him with a lot of respect, too."
"Anyway, back to my point, so far I don't hate having you around," Clay said. "I don't see that changing but, if it does, I'll talk to you about it instead of sulking or ignoring you."
"I don't know," she said. "I've been known to nag people who leave dirty clothes and towels all over the bathroom floor or don't clean up after themselves."
"Then it's a good thing my family trained me well. Remember I mentioned how they would throw things or hit me with them when I made them mad? I've taken dirty socks and wet towels to the face before and survived it. It was a hard lesson, but I learned it."
Dylan laughed. "I don't know how you do it, but you make me laugh even when I'm depressed."
"I'm a funny guy," he said, his tone defensive.
"I don't know. You're mostly just grumpy."
"Yeah, but I'm funny, too." He shot her a glance, trying and failing to look sad. "I'm hurt that you don't think so."
"You're a big boy. You can handle it."
He sighed. "You're as mean as my sister. No wonder she likes you. Now, eat your pizza and stop worrying about this. Right now, you need to be here. I want you to be here so you'll stay safe. When you don't need to be here anymore, we'll talk. Until then, I'm hoping you'll take turns with me on cooking dinner. It'll be nice to have a break from worrying about how to feed myself."
"I guess that's fair," Dylan said.
Before she could pick up her pizza and take a bite, Clay wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a quick kiss.
"I mean it. Stop worrying. Just make yourself at home." He kissed her again. "And it won't offend me at all if you want to wander around in your underwear or topless, pant-less, even naked. I want you to be comfortable."
Dylan laughed. "I hate to disappoint you, but I usually wear clothes when I'm home. Ugly, frumpy clothes like flannel pajama pants and hole-y t-shirts. Sometimes I even wear baggy onesie pajamas."
He sighed. "You've ruined my fantasies of what single women wear when they're at home."
"Sorry, not sorry."
"Well, I like to walk around in my shorts and no shirt, so I hope you can deal with that."
"I'll manage," she said.
"See? We've already worked out our first problem. This'll be easy."
Dylan hoped that he was right.