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It was time to accept that he was still alive and would be for a long time.
It was time to move on.Chapter 17Clay stood back, watching Dane as he spoke to a contractor he knew, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t actually staring at the sexy man’s ass, but it was really hard not to stare when he was looking so damn good that afternoon. The dark-blue T-shirt was stretched across strong shoulders and skimming down a flat stomach Clay had spent a great deal of time licking just to feel the muscles flex under his lips.
Not exactly how he’d planned to amuse himself in the hardware store. He’d volunteered to tag along when Dane said he was running for some supplies. Dane didn’t seem to think anything of the company, and it gave Clay an excuse to spend time with him while keeping him safe.
Dane’s progress on the house had slowed for the past several weeks since they’d agreed to attempt the dating thing, and Clay couldn’t feel an ounce of guilt over it. He was practically living in Dane’s apartment over the garage. A little voice in his head argued that he could give Dane some space, but he squashed that damn voice pretty fast. If Dane needed space, he certainly wasn’t giving Clay any signs of it.
Each morning they woke wrapped in each other in Dane’s small bed, and they spent the next hour or so enjoying each other’s body before Dane shuffled off to the shower while Clay started the coffee. Dane worked for a little while, and then they met up for lunch at the apartment. Then back to work before dinner and more time together watching TV or just talking.
It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that they needed to move to Clay’s room where the bed was bigger and, more importantly, the bathroom was bigger. At least then, they could enjoy a shower or a long soak in the tub together. In Dane’s bathroom, there wasn’t room for them both to be in there at the same time, and they definitely couldn’t both fit in the shower stall.
But the words always died a quiet death. He didn’t want to press Dane. For now, they were living in their secret little world. Dane could pretend no one knew about their burgeoning relationship while he came to terms with it. The man was trying to balance what he felt for Clay against his feelings for his dead wife and child. Clay was not interested in rocking the boat until Dane felt steadier.
Of course, Grey and Baer knew what the fuck was going on. They had eyes. But so far, they’d limited their teasing comments and speculation to Clay. They kindly kept their mouths shut and eyes averted whenever Dane was around.
Clay was in no rush to add more labels and names to what he and Dane were doing. The whole thing was so damn far out of his comfort zone. Georgia was not supposed to be permanent; this was just a short stopover. Yet the idea of walking away from Dane, of waking up one morning and not seeing him on the pillow next to Clay’s nearly stopped his heart in his chest.
Because he was in love.
The thought stopped the breath in his lungs. He didn’t move a muscle as he turned it over in his brain again and again.
He loved Dane. Loved his laugh, his smile, his temper, and even how he hated to pick up his dirty clothes.
He’d fallen so slowly over the past weeks, with every little touch and kindness. He hadn’t even noticed it happening. He’d been so damn focused on keeping Dane happy and worrying about whether he was still struggling with his grief.
Clay released the breath he’d been holding in a rush. He wasn’t fucking going anywhere. If it took the rest of their lives, he’d find a way to make Dane fall in love with him. Find a way to explain his powers and the pestilents. He’d keep Dane safe, do everything possible to make him happy.
Dane waved to the grizzled older man before turning to Clay, a somewhat sheepish smile tugging up one corner of his mouth.
“Sorry about that. Chris is the one who helped me a lot when I was setting up my handyman business. Gave me a lot of my initial contacts,” Dane said. He walked over to Clay, his hands shoved in the front pockets of his jeans.
“No problem.” Clay grinned back at him. “Gave me a chance to admire your choice of jeans this morning.”
Dane’s brow furrowed and he glanced down at the light-blue pair of pants he was wearing. “What do you mean? I know I grabbed these out of the clean pile.”
Something warmed in Clay’s chest over the reminder that they’d done their laundry together that Sunday. They’d both been out of clean clothes, and it had been an excuse to spend more time together. Just like everything else, Clay had done his laundry up in Dane’s apartment, using the tiny stackable washer and dryer. They’d sat in the living room, folding clothes together, laughing as they talked about household chores they hated and the ridiculous ways they avoided them.
