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I taught her how to cone the clay next, and we played with it until her movements were surer and the clay responded how we wanted.
“How’re you feeling, Books?”
Nicky laughed. “Well, I no longer have to wonder how your arms were strong enough to obliterate me on our first date.”
I cackled and snuggled tighter against her back. “If you end up liking pottery, we can do more dates like this, and you’ll have surprisingly strong arms too.”
“I always did like it, but I haven’t done it since I was a kid. Most summers Mom would toss us into some sort of art class. I usually chose the multi-variety ones that covered a whole ton of options, but we didn’t get to play with a potter’s wheel in those. Just hand forming.”
“Now you’ve got me imagining baby Books all covered in clay. What did you make?”
She wiggled against me, turning to kiss my cheek.
“It was supposed to be a dog, but you couldn’t really tell. None of the legs were quite the same length, and its head was nearly the size of its body.”
“I bet it was hella cute.”
I moved her into the next phase of opening the clay so we could make a little bowl. We smoothed out the bottom, and then I rearranged her hands for pulling up the walls.
“Holy shit,” she whispered as the clay lifted. “It’s so perfect.”
I nudged the clay and ruined the design.
Nicky let out a squawk. “Nooo. Why did you do that?”
“We’re going to do it again,” I said. “You know the most basic steps, and I want you to get the feel for it without my hands all over you. Half the fun of this is playing around.”
She puffed out a breath, and I climbed off the stool behind her to come around to her front. “I got so excited it was so beautiful.”
I drew her into a kiss. “You’ll make another that’s equally beautiful. The amount of times I’ve fucked up a project right at the end is too damn high, but you just have to roll with it. Clay can be a little bitch. It’s all part of moulding it to your will.”
I fed her some popcorn while she fussed around with the clay and assisted her as needed to get it under control. Her tongue stuck adorably out the side of her mouth when she concentrated. It made me want to eat her up.
“You’re doing great, Books.” I grinned.
“I like the feel of it. So smooth.” She laughed and opened up her clay ball into a bowl shape. “Question.”
“Hmm?”
“You said this place used to be your grandparents' home, right?”
“Yep. They built it when their company really started booming, and I inherited it.”
“Would you tell me more about them?” Nicky asked as I helped her with the final phases of shaping her bowl and tested the base thickness with my potter’s needle.
“There were three of them; Hazel, Maria, and Albert, they started off as business partners and became a tiny pack. They were all betas, and while they were totally ruthless when it came to business, they were huge sweethearts with me. My mom was their only child, and I’m the only grandbaby. They all passed when I was twenty-two, a little before Jasper and I met the rest of the pack.”
Nicky lifted her head and took her hands off the clay. “Did you lose them all at once?”
“Ah, yeah,” I said slowly, grief climbing up my throat. I tended to get by well enough if I didn’t think about it too hard, but every so often it hit me like a truck. “It was a plane crash.”
Nicky wiped her hands on her smock, rising off her stool to hug me. “I’m so sorry, Billie.”
I snuggled into her arms.
“They made sure I was taken care of, and I try to use the money in ways that would make them proud of me. The house was the biggest thing they locked down for me. I’m not allowed to sell it or have any other name on the deed until I turn fifty. They didn’t want Mom to get her hands on it, and they luckily set aside a good chunk of change to cover all the expenses of running a house this big.”
“Why would your mom try to get the house?”
