Clay's Hope

Three

I stood outside, working on the truck, and every time the main door opened, I tensed. The sun had risen a long while ago. Each passing hour made me more nervous. What would I say to Gabby when she did appear? Should I apologize right away? No, it was better to gauge her mood first. The leaves might do the trick.

It wasn't until well after the sun rose that the door opened, and her scent drifted into the yard. My palms started to sweat as I listened to her step onto the porch. When she stopped, I swallowed hard, and glanced her way. She had lifted her face to the sun and closed her eyes. Leaves still clung to her hair and dirt streaked her face, making her look wild. My chest grew tight. Mine. She was mine.

I wanted to hold her again. Touch her face. The need made my skin ripple. Shifting my focus to the truck, I located another bolt and quickly set the ratchet. It took two tries. The rippling faded but my nerves didn't.

The sound of her movement had me inhaling deeply as I waited for her to cross the yard. Her annoyance and confusion salted the air. But no anger. That was good.

She didn't say anything until she stood next to the hood.

"We weren't officially introduced last night. My name's Gabby. Gabrielle May Winters."

I straightened and turned toward her. The sun glinted off her hair as she stood there with her hands in her pockets. She was such a tiny thing, looking up at me, studying me with her wide brown eyes. My response died before I opened my mouth; being so close to her robbed me of what I'd been thinking. Instead, I wondered if she liked what she saw. Last night's reaction made me doubt it.

"Sam said that your name is Clay."

She'd talked to Sam about me? My pulse leapt. That was good, right?

"Listen, Clay, I know you think I'm the one for you..."

The direction of her thinking made it hurt to breathe. I knew what she was getting at. She didn't believe she was my Mate. She continued as if she hadn't just verbally kicked me between the legs.

"I don't have a sense of smell to depend on, like you do. Although the Elders say to trust the instinct of werewolves, I don't trust blindly. I really want to go home. If I asked to borrow someone else's car, would it live?"

I turned back to the truck to hide my pain. According to what I'd heard, she'd been living with Sam for years, learning our ways. Why couldn't she understand that I wouldn't give her up? Without seeing what I was doing, I lifted the ratchet.

"Ok. I'll take that as a no," she mumbled.

Her understanding made me hopeful, and I turned back to her.

"Clay, I'm not trying to be rude here, but I'm struggling to figure us out. What's the plan?"

She knew I had a plan? Panic had me scrambling for the words to defend my actions. She didn't give me time, though.

"Am I just supposed to stay here until you decide I'm not really your Mate?" she asked softly.

Ouch. Any relief I would have felt over her not knowing about the leaves left with her continued, brutal denial of our connection. She wrinkled her nose and sighed slightly. Scenting the air, I found a thread of frustration.

"Would it help speed things along if we spent a little time together?"

The abrupt change in her thinking left me stunned. Hell, yes, I wanted to spend time together. A ripple of excitement coursed over the skin of my arms, and I hoped she didn't notice as she stared at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. I didn't trust myself not to say just that, so I shrugged. I didn't want to seem too overeager.