by Alta Hensley
"Why did you leave me last night?"
When he had been talking about Joshua, she'd met him head on, even though hers wasn't in the best shape right now. She stood up to him, quietly, but didn't back down. But when it came to her behavior last night, she turned away from him. He could see her fidgeting with the blanket, rubbing it with her fingers as if she was trying to grind the fabric into a fine pulp.
"Was it that bad?" he asked, only half kidding.
She turned back towards him, too quickly, and winced. "No, no, of course not. It was wonderful. It was fantastic—"
"I'm sorry for falling asleep right after we made love. I shouldn't have. I should have stayed awake and cuddled. I'm better trained than that. But to be honest, I was just exhausted, not that that's an excuse—"
Elodie interrupted his heartfelt mea culpa. "It was fine. I mean, I wouldn't want it to be a continual habit, but I'm not mad or anything."
"So it wasn't that either, then." Clay leaned forward and put his hand on her hip, one of the few places not encased in either plaster or gauze. "Tell me what it was that drove you away from me, out into the night."
She avoided his eyes and compulsively folded the hem of the starched hospital sheet to within an inch of its life. "Nothing in particular."
He didn't say anything for a few seconds, then issued a loud, "Ahem. I'm not buying it. So try to sell me something else. Like the truth."
"April."
"What about April?" he asked, figuring he already had a good idea, but knowing she needed to be prodded into talking it out.
It tore at his heart when he saw her eyes fill with tears. "I just—I just felt like—like I had betrayed her, you know?"
He knew. He knew very well exactly what she was talking about, because he had felt it, too. "You could have gotten me up, and we could have talked about it," he cajoled, "instead of sneaking out on me."
"I didn't feel like it. I wanted to be alone. I needed to work some stuff out."
Although he didn't want to, he did understand what she was saying. "Next time," he growled huskily, "I'm going to stay awake, and I'm not going to let you leave my side all night long."
Clay couldn't see anything on her skin but purple bruises and red scrapes, but he knew that she was blushing nonetheless.
"Now. Back to this Joshua character," Clay said.
"Did I hear my name being taken in vain?" The owner of the voice on her answering machine knocked once on the open door and waltzed in as if he owned the place, running up to Elodie's other side and kissing her loudly on the cheek.
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry! I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay?"
He hadn't so much as acknowledged Clay with a glance. All of his attention was focused on Elodie, and Clay was seeing red, especially when the man reached out and caressed her hair as if he had every right to.
"She's going to be fine," Clay said as he stood and took his place on Elodie's other side, his hand on her shoulder staking an indisputable claim.
The other man's response to all of what Elodie would refer to as 'macho posturing' was to smile from ear to ear and hold out his hand. "You must be Clay Carver. I'm so glad you were here for her."
It was too much of an ingrained response to take another man's hand when it was offered for him to refrain. Clay shook hands with the man he considered his closest rival for Elodie's affections, noting reluctantly that he had a good, firm handshake. He didn't want to like anything about this man, dammit.
Elodie looked back and forth from one man to another. "Clay, this is Joshua Maddox. He's one of my best friends, and absolutely no threat to you at all. He and I are not romantically involved in any way, so you can put down your caveman club any time now."
His mouth twisted at her depressingly accurate interpretation of his feelings, but he wasn't going to stand down just because of what she said. He intended to size up the stranger himself. Clay did sit back down again, but he also kept his big paw on her shoulder, just in case Mr. Maddox got any ideas.
At least he didn't stay long, and as far as even Clay's narrow definition, he didn't say anything he shouldn't have. In fact, he was very loving and affectionate towards Elodie, but in an almost neutered way. Clay couldn't find an objection to that; Elodie needed all the loving support she could get.
Joshua kissed Elodie goodbye on the lips, lifting his head and winking deliberately at a nonetheless outraged Clay. Non romantic relationship or not, he felt that he should be the only one of the opposite sex who kissed Elodie on the lips.
A nurse's assistant came in with Elodie's lunch, and she sat up more than she had, but she was still disinterested in food. Unfortunately, the guard dog beside her wasn't about to let her skip a meal.
Clay spent her entire hospital stay—three days—with her, night and day. He didn't even go home to sleep, preferring, he said, to suffer instead through his nights on one of those atrocious chairs that converted into some semblance of a bed, although he never looked like he'd gotten much in the way of sleep in the morning. He did everything for her, usually before she even thought of it herself. She had to try to dissuade him from feeding her at each meal. He ordered enough food for an army each time and tried to persuade her to eat it, but ended up eating most of it himself, wincing throughout at the atrocious quality.
Chapter 15
Clay stayed in her room during her examinations—not that she was going to object really, she just wasn't used to having someone in the room with her while she was being poked and prodded. He didn't just sit there like a bump on a log, either. He asked better questions than she did.
Elodie was worried about how much all of this was going to cost—she certainly didn't have any medical insurance, and what with the emergency room and all the tests and three days in the hospital, she was going to owe for the rest of her life! It didn't strike her until she'd been there for a day or two, but she was in a private room, too! There was no way she could afford a ward bed, which she didn't think they even had any more, much less a private room.
Although she desperately wanted to get home and lick her wounds, she wasn't in any hurry to be handed the bill for her stay in this lovely white hotel. When that time came, Clay was there, of course. The nurses' aide handed her all sorts of paperwork to sign before she left, which she did while he gathered up all the stuff he'd already packed for her that morning.
Elodie scanned all the paperwork that was put in front of her, needing to see that astronomical figure just to justify the dread in her heart. But there was nothing there. It was all after care stuff about taking it easy and watching for signs of this and that. But nothing that said what she owed.
Maybe they ran out of ink while printing the number. That was a distinct possibility, she thought, depression lying over her like a wet blanket. She would never be able to dig herself out from under this bill.
She was so absorbed in feeling horrid about owing a tremendous amount to the hospital, that she didn't notice where Clay was driving her to until the car stopped and she looked up to find herself at the entrance to his ranch. "Clay! You were supposed to take me home!"
He continued to drive up to the house. "This is your home," he growled, "at least until you're fully recovered. I'm not about to let you go home all by yourself. I've been to your apartment, remember? Church mice have it better in comparison." He came around and lifted her into his arms once he stopped the truck.
"I can walk," she protested. She had made sure that the doctor had given her a walking cast on her ankle so she could be mobile.
Clay didn't answer until he reached the bedroom, with her in his arms whether she liked it or not. "You don't need to." He set her down on the bed with infinite care and turned to go back and close up the truck, then stopped a few paces away. "In fact, you're expressly forbidden from getting up for any reason other than an emergency, or the bathroom. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"
Feeling bolder than usual and figuring it was due to the good drugs she was on, Elodie sna
pped back, "What are you going to do, spank me?"
Clay began to step slowly back towards the bed—and her, his eyes holding her stare, his expression one of unwavering intent. "I don't need to spank you." She could barely hear him, he was speaking so low and softly. "Although I will, when you're better, for leaving me when you shouldn't have. But all I need to do is slip up your nightgown and latch my lips onto your nipple, then slip my finger down the folds between your legs until it comes upon that lovely little bundle of nerves you have hidden there."
He lay down next to her and, as if to prove his point, her body began to respond to him, slickening for his potential invasion, wetting her panties in his honor.
"I'll touch you and tongue you and tug and suckle and rub until you're begging me, seconds away from release." Suddenly, he was half way across the room already, reaching for the door knob. "Then I'll stop, just like that."
Elodie couldn't writhe very well, but she was doing her damnedest. Dear God, he'd left her hanging, the snot! "Hey, that's not fair!" she wailed.
"Then you'd better be good, hadn't you?" he replied without a trace of remorse.
And he was gone, leaving her to swell and throb in her own juices.
But he didn't. Not for long, anyway. He got all of her things out of the car and brought them into his room, putting her nightgowns away and setting her toiletries in the bathroom.
"Are you hungry, sweetie?" he asked when he was done.
"No, thanks."
"Okay. I've got a couple things to do." He handed her a huge remote that looked like it could run a seven forty seven. "If you push the power button, the TV will appear."
Appear? Of course, her curiosity got the better of her, and she had to push it. What looked like a double dresser across from the end of the bed disgorged a huge plasma TV.
He set a big mug of water with ice next to her on the nightstand, along with a box of cinnamon graham crackers, and gave her a pain pill, which she knew better than to refuse. She had found out the hard way that she needed to keep something in her stomach when she was taking pain medications. Eventually, she could start declining the meds, but not until she had some time to knit herself back together.
"Have some crackers, but you are not to get up except for the reasons I gave you. If you disobey me..." he said. Clay gave that look again, and bent down to kiss her on the top of her head. "You have already got one spanking coming. If you truly do something stupid, like try to hobble your way home while I'm gone, I'll tack another, worse spanking onto the list for when you're healed."
"Clay! I do not have a spanking coming for anything—"
"I'm sorry I have to go, but there are some things I need to take care of as soon as possible."
She knew he wouldn't hear it, but she said anyway, "I'm fine."
"I won't be long."
"Take as long as you need. I'm probably going to fall asleep, anyway."
And she did exactly that. She was asleep practically before he left the room. And when she awoke, most of what she owned was around her. Her phone was on the nightstand next to her, and there were several paintings on the floor. She couldn't imagine what had happened, why those things were staring her in the face when they should have been safe at her apartment.
"Clay!"
He literally ran to her bedside. "What? What's the matter? Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not okay! Did something happen to my apartment? Why is my stuff here?" She was on the verge of tears, figuring there had been a fire or something, and she might have lost some of her work. Elodie clutched at his shirtfront as he sat down gingerly on the side of the bed.
"No, sweetie. No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Nothing happened to your apartment except that you don't have it anymore."
"I what?" she squeaked. "Why am I homeless? What happened? I was never late with my rent, not once, even when—" she almost slipped and said "even when it meant I didn't eat that week," but she was able to stop herself before it got out.
*****
Clay knew she'd never been late, and he'd begun to suspect, considering her living conditions, that she had kept up the rent by doing without something else, somehow. Until he'd seen her apartment, he hadn't realized just how dirt poor she was. But now that he did, he wasn't about to let her continue to live in squalor. No way.
And the worst part of his afternoon had been the lunch he had set up with Joshua Maddox. It wasn't that he hated the man—although he wasn't any too fond of him, either—it was what he had learned from him.
They had actually had a reasonably decent lunch together, finding common ground in their obvious love for Elodie. Joshua had taken Clay's measure as closely as he had Joshua's, and they each came to the silent conclusion that—as far as Elodie was concerned—they could at least tolerate each other for her sake.
Some of the things Clay had learned about how Elodie lived made him cringe and want to start a self-flagellation routine that lasted the rest of his life. Joshua had been surprised at his shock, assuming that Clay had known more about his sister-in-law—or, as he had put it with a bit of an edge, that he hadn't cared enough to know more.
No wonder she hadn't had a winter coat—she couldn't afford it. And all those times when he had wanted to go do something expensive... Clay just wanted to knock himself upside the head. How could he have been so oblivious? He'd had no idea that she truly was poor. He had foolishly just believed she was a free spirit and artistic soul who didn't focus on materialistic things. How could he be so blind?
Joshua had done what he could—of course, Elodie was as proud and stubborn with him about being helped by friends as she was with Clay. She wouldn't accept much, because she didn't have much to give, as far as she was concerned.
The last thing Joshua had said, though, was the kicker. As he was shrugging into his coat, he turned to Clay, saying, "She loves you, you know."
Clay had been staring down into his coffee. "I know."
"You've seen the portrait?"
He nodded.
"Good. You've been her heart for as long as I have known her." Joshua stood stock still until Clay looked up at him. There was more than a little threat in his eyes and his tone when he spoke. "Don't hurt her, or I'll hurt you."
Somewhat able to understand how he felt about Elodie, and grudgingly glad that she inspired such devotion in her friends, Clay nodded, not challenging the threat as he might have. "I love her, too. I would never hurt her deliberately."
"Good. Make sure you keep it that way." He left Clay in his wake, wondering whether he had just made a rival or a friend.
Elodie's landlord hadn't wanted her to go. She was quiet, she paid on time, and it was mid-lease. But Clay had paid the rest of it off for her, and had all of her belongings moved to the ranch.
It was a bit presumptuous, he admitted, but he was going to make her stay there while she was recuperating, and he couldn't stand the idea that, at the end of that time, she might choose to just get up, like she had in the middle of the night, and leave him. He wasn't going to lose her, even if he had to tie her to the bed... which had its advantages, he had to admit.
He did his best to soothe her. "I want you to live here, where I can take care of you."
"No, Clay, it wouldn't be right!"
He scoffed. "Of course it's right! It's the best thing. I—" he almost blurted out that he loved her, then reconsidered, "I want you close at hand."
"But you don't need to take care of me like this—I'm fine on my own."
It probably wasn't the right time, or the right place, but Clay took both of her hands in his, squeezing them gently, rhythmically.
Chapter 16
Clay swallowed hard, then began to speak in a voice that cracked every once in a while with emotion. "When… when April died, I thought I was going to die, too. Sometimes I wanted to die, just so that the hurt would stop. I hated this house, and everything in it, because it all reminded me of her. But then we started to go out for our little lunches, and that�
�and the running of the ranch—started to give me something to look forward to, and little by little, they kind of became my lifeline. You loved April as much as I did, and seeing you was a little like seeing her."
Elodie nodded, crying. She'd felt exactly the same way about getting together with him—above and beyond the fact that it fed her obsession with him.
Clay looked her straight in the eye. "It's more than that now, though. Much, much more. I want you, Elodie. When you touch me, sparks fly. I thought I was going to unman myself while we made love—I wanted you so much. I love you, honey." He reached out to cup her still swollen and battered cheek, tears trailing slowly down his face. "I love you. I never thought I could love again, but you have proven me wrong. I love every solemn, stubborn, prideful inch of you."
Elodie couldn't believe her ears. She couldn't! He loved her? How could that be possible? He had loved April—and she was nothing like April. She couldn't take in what he was saying, not one bit.
Clay was already fishing around in his shirt pocket, and pulled out a small ring box, popping it open to reveal a huge, marquise cut diamond set in eighteen karat gold. "Will you marry me?" He already had the ring out of the box and onto her finger before she had a chance to answer him.
She couldn't say a thing. All she could do was stare at the ring sitting on her finger.
"Well? Aren't you going to say something? Preferably 'yes'?" he prodded, tugging on her hands where he had them captured with his own.
"I don't know what to say." But she did. Elodie knew what she wanted to say in her heart, more than anything, but she didn't think it was the right time. "This just seems so… fast."
He chuckled. "I don't think this has been fast at all. We have inched our way here at a very slow speed. But after your accident..." He took a deep breath. "It reminded me that life is short. We have to live for the moment. I want to do that with you, Elodie. I want us to be husband and wife and run this ranch together, make it our home, and fill every single wall with your paintings."