Heart of Clay

by Shanna Hatfield

  Purposefully ignoring the comments from his students about hurrying them off the van, he rushed them to get everything put away.

  The sooner he got dinner over with, the sooner he could shoo the company out the door and enjoy the evening with his wife.

  Finally finished at the school, he hurried home. Clay hummed a tune known only to him as he opened the front door and walked inside the house. Voices in the kitchen and family room trickled out to greet him.

  “Hello, everyone,” he called as he hung his coat in the closet. A rush of quick footsteps sounded from the kitchen, as if someone ran into the room.

  “Hello, Clay. We’re in the kitchen,” Callan called to him. “How did it go today?”

  “Fine.” He tugged off his boots and chucked them in the closet. He might as well be comfortable. It was just family, after all. “The kids did a great job. They placed first in one competition and second in two others.”

  As he walked into the kitchen, Clay looked around at the occupants. Everyone was dressed up, but he didn’t see Callan anywhere.

  His dad and Josh leaned against the counter with big grins on their freshly shaved faces. In dress shirts and nice jeans with polished boots, they looked like they were ready for a night on the town. Jenna wore a pretty dress and heels while his mom had on dress pants and a sparkly blouse.

  Clay tried to recall if Callan had mentioned inviting anyone else. An unfamiliar woman stood at the sink between his mom and Jenna with her back to him. Annoyed by the unexpected company, Clay didn’t want to have to be on his best behavior.

  “Is Callan in the bedroom?” he asked, starting that direction.

  “No, I’m here,” Callan said.

  Clay spun around. He heard her voice, but still didn’t see her. He knew something was going on, especially since his dad and Josh struggled to contain their laughter.

  With all eyes on him, he grew uncomfortable. Something was definitely not right. The woman standing between Jenna and Bobbi turned around. He absently stuck a hand out her direction in welcome while his gaze traveled around the kitchen, trying to locate Callan.

  She grabbed his hand and started pulling him close, as if she planned to hug or kiss him.

  Clay turned his attention to the woman while his eyes grew wide with shock. Shocked, he jerked his hand away and stepped back.

  “Whoa, there! I don’t know what…” Clay took a good look at the woman.

  His woman.

  Callan looked like she’d walked right out of a fashion magazine. For a moment, he felt sick, wondering what inspired her to cut off her gorgeous auburn hair.

  He frowned as everyone laughed, unable to find any humor in the situation. However, his wife sported a huge smile while her green eyes sparkled like emeralds.

  “Callan?” Clay looked sheepish and confused, feeling out of sorts. He certainly hadn’t seen her makeover coming.

  “Yes.” She nodded her head as her smile slowly melted and uncertainty crossed her features.

  Clay forced himself to smile, although it fell short of reaching his eyes. “Well, I guess this joke’s on me.”

  Josh slapped him on the back good-naturedly.

  The fact Callan made Salisbury steak with mushroom gravy, mashed potatoes, and homemade rolls for dinner almost helped alleviate the shock and embarrassment Clay endured. It was one of his favorite meals. After grabbing another roll and slathering it with butter, he bit into it savagely.

  Although he shouldn’t pout, he couldn’t help himself. He’d played plenty of jokes on every person seated around the table, but this seemed unfair.

  He hoped taking a shower and shaving would give him time to get into a better mood before dinner. Unfortunately, it hadn’t helped at all. If anything, getting dressed up to eat dinner in his own home with family made him more annoyed.

  As a final act of rebellion, he refused to tuck in his shirt or put on shoes, coming to the dinner table in his sock feet. Callan only raised one shapely brow in his direction before shaking her head at him.

  Clay acknowledged it wasn’t the joke they’d played that made him angry.

  The unbelievable transformation in Callan and his inability to pinpoint exactly what was different caused his irritability. He got the feeling much more than Callan’s outward appearance had changed. Something within her had shifted, altered, and he struggled to make sense of it all.

  Discreetly, he studied her as she chatted with his mom and Jenna. She looked amazing. More beautiful than he could ever remember. Once he recovered from the shock of her hair being shorter, he could see how flattering the style was on her. She had on more makeup than her usual quick swipe of mascara, but it looked nice.

  Clay worked to carry on a conversation with Josh and his dad, but his mind and eyes kept wandering to his wife.

  His gaze lingered on the pink sweater Callan wore. Since it flawlessly glided over every curve, he assumed it was new. Otherwise, he would have remembered seeing her wear it.

  Jenna said something to make her laugh and Callan leaned back in her chair, crossing one long leg over the other. Her slim gray skirt and strappy heels were about to drive him to distraction.

  When she absently placed a manicured hand on his thigh and patted it gently, Clay stifled a groan. Convinced the dinner would drag on forever, he couldn’t wait to get Callan alone.

  While he ate a generous slice of the peach pie his mom made, he practically jiggled his foot in irritation. He felt more like a lusty teen spying on his current crush than a married man in his mid-thirties. At that very moment, he couldn’t recall ever wanting his wife so much.

  Clay needed everyone to leave.

  Now.

  The waiting was nearly unbearable.

  Despite his turbulent longings, Callan appeared to have a wonderful time. She and Josh told a story about their dad that had everyone laughing. Clay wasn’t sure he had ever seen her so open and relaxed around others. For her sake, he would tamp down his impatience and let her enjoy the evening. As he continued to watch her, he realized there were depths to his wife that he hadn’t even begun to plumb, let alone understand.

  Maybe that explained why he felt so odd. Unless he was getting sick or experiencing exhaustion from the long trip, nothing else could explain his growing sense of agitation and expectation, or the tightness in his heart. Perhaps indigestion from eating too fast caused him to feel such strange stirrings inside his chest.

  Or maybe it was because Clay had fallen head over heels in love with his wife, again.