For the rest of the weekend, Gabby studied, and I stayed glued to her side. She didn't talk about her call with Sam, and I kept quiet about the vet visit.

Monday, as soon as the house was empty, I left to roam the neighborhood. It was time to start acting like a human and gather some clothes for myself. A pair of socks pulled from a back porch, some worn and ratty boots pulled from a garage, a t-shirt pulled from a line. I picked things I knew weren't likely to be missed. The pants were harder, but I finally found a pair dangling from the branches of a barren tree. The tree belonged to one of the houses closer to campus, one that tended to blare music late into the night. I looked around and, hoping no one was watching, shifted my hands and limbs just enough to climb the tree. Pants in my mouth, I jogged home.

By Tuesday evening, I had a set of clothes. With clothes, I could shift into my skin and get a job. I had some mechanical knowledge, thanks to the books Gabby brought me. Now, I needed to figure out who would hire me. Since Gabby found a car by reading the paper, I decided I would spend the next day looking at the paper to see if it had any information about jobs.

Wednesday morning, during the rush before she left for class, I watched Gabby race downstairs to throw in a load of laundry. I'd watched her do this countless times and already knew what dial to turn, what button to push, and what detergent to use.

As I sat on the steps watching her, I realized I couldn't wear what I had. At least, not as they were. All of it smelled like someone else, and I knew how meticulous Gabby was about my scent. I'd need to wash everything.

Gabby raced back up the stairs and almost ran me over on her way out the door. As soon as her car left the driveway, I went out to the neighbor's bush and brought my cache of clothes into the house. Then, I waited for the washer to finish.

In the privacy of the basement, I shifted into my skin and removed Gabby's clothes from the washer. Then, I hesitated. I wanted to put them in the dryer for her. Would she thank me or would she want to know what I was doing down here in the first place? Uncertain, I set her wet things in the basket then loaded the washer with my items.

Once the machine started to fill with water, I shifted and went back upstairs. I'd started making myself a single sandwich every day from Gabby's supplies while she was away at school. She hadn't mentioned anything, so I figured it was okay to keep doing it. While I had my paws on the counter to get the bread, I heard an odd noise.

I tilted my head and listened. Something clunked. I pushed away from the counter and took off down the stairs. The machine was shaking and thunking.

In a panic, I shifted and opened the lid. The machine quieted, and I looked down into the grey water. I couldn't see a thing. What had made that noise? The boots, maybe? I closed the lid gently and waited for it to start again. It squealed when it tried.

I stopped the machine again, canceled the program, and listened to the water drain. Then, I attempted to start it again. It made worse noises the second time; and I knew, without a doubt, I'd managed to break it.

"But how?" I tugged at my beard in frustration.

If Gabby came back and found out that I broke—

I looked down at her wet clothes then back at the grey water. I couldn't afford for her to be mad at me when we were just starting to make progress. Teetering with indecision, I looked at her clothes once more. I'd make this little lie up to her. Decided, I plunged my hand into the water and started pulling out my items.

One of the bootlaces gave me trouble. Wound around the base of the center pole that twisted back and forth, the thing didn't want to come loose. The boot had also wedged itself between the center post and the drum. No doubt, my boot was the "how" behind the machine's behavior.

Once I had my things draining in the utility sink, I put Gabby's wet things back into the washer. With the boot and string removed, I tried to start the machine once more. It filled as it should, but as soon as the post started to twist back and forth, it made awful noises.

A car pulled into the driveway, and I froze. A door opened and a moment later, I listened to Rachel's familiar tread on the porch. She wasn't supposed to be back yet.

I grabbed my wet things, shoved them behind an empty cardboard box, and shifted back into my fur just as the back door opened.

I barked just as an annoying dog would do when there are strange noises in the house.

"Clay?" Rachel called.

No...it's your other dog barking, I thought. I still hadn't forgiven her for the vet.

She came down the steps, and I pointedly looked at the washer as if the noise it made wasn't enough of a clue.

"Oh, no!" She flew to the machine and quickly opened the lid like I'd done. After studying things for a few moments, she turned to me.

"We're going to have to call someone, I think. I don't know anything about this stuff." She pulled her cell phone from her pocket as she walked back upstairs.

I followed her closely, thankful she hadn't noticed the wet trail that led to my hidden clothes.

* * * *

Several hours later, I sat at the top of the steps, watching the man downstairs. I could just barely see him from my position.

Rachel was waiting in the kitchen for Gabby, which was the same reason I was at the top of the stairs instead of downstairs learning. Rachel and I had been down there with the man when he'd pulled the machine out to look at the back. While I'd been learning, she'd been eyeing the man in a potential Mate way. I wondered if that meant she was no longer with Peter. I doubted it because she still smelled of him.

The sound of a car coming down the road pricked my ears. Gabby's engine and exhaust system were distinct and easy to identify. As soon as Gabby pulled into the driveway, Rachel dashed out the back door.

"You are brilliant!" Rachel said, still outside.

"What'd I do?" Gabby's words were faint.

"There's a hot repairman working on the washer in the basement."

Hot? I looked at the man again as he bent over to pick up a tool.

"Thank you for breaking it," Rachel said.

She and Gabby walked into the house.

"I didn't do anything but throw in a load of laundry before I left," Gabby said quietly.

I turned to look at her. Did she suspect something?

"Hey," Rachel said. "I'm not blaming...I'm just thanking."

"But, I thought you were into Peter," Gabby said, echoing my thoughts.

"I am. It doesn't mean I don't window-shop. Go down there and flirt with him and see if we can get twenty percent off our bill."

Flirt? Before I could get even more upset with Rachel, Gabby snorted.

"I will not. It'd be safer to send Clay down there to learn how to fix it than me trying to get us a price break."

Done.

"If our dog starts fixing things, we're hitting the road and making some money," said Rachel.

The man started up the basement stairs, and Rachel's face lit with anticipation while Gabby eyed the basement door with dread. I backed up a few steps, positioning myself between her and the door, trying to reassure her with my presence.

Her look of dread changed to one of appreciation when the man reached the top of the stairs. The man didn't miss her appreciative look, either. He flexed for her. I briefly considered nudging the man to send him falling down the steps.

Gabby flushed and turned to Rachel.

"I have to go pick up my ring before Clay gets here. He'd be heartbroken if he found out I bent a prong on the setting already. Plus, my hand feels naked without it."

She held out her left hand and gave it a wistful look.

What ring was she talking about?

"The dog?" the man asked with a puzzled look at Rachel.

Gabby laughed nervously. "We named the dog after my fiancé. He has a good sense of humor and likes the dog, too."

She said it so fast I could barely understand her. By the time the words sank in, she was already out the door. I wanted to run after her. Was I the fiancé, the dog, or both?

Stuck with two human witnesses, I couldn't shift to let myself out the door and chase her down. Instead, I listened to her car peel out of the driveway.

It took another hour before the man left and longer still for Gabby to reappear. When she cautiously walked in, bags looped over her arms, I was waiting for her.

She set down the bags and peeked around the corner before she spoke to me in a whisper.

"You better keep reading the books I bring home. You can be our repair guy. It gives me the willies that he knows where I live."

I nodded just as Rachel turned the corner from her bedroom. She paused mid-stride, her eyes wide.

"Did he just nod?"

Gabby smiled. "Yep. I've been working on it with him. He caught on really fast. The nodding isn't bad, but his smile can be a little scary."

Her pulse tripped, giving away her lie. Rachel stared at us for a moment then shook her head.

"You're weird, Gabby, but in a good way. Anyway, it was one hundred and twenty-five dollars to fix the washer. I covered your half. With the vet bill, you're up to one hundred, minus the burger and drink from disaster night."

I saw Gabby's cringe.

"Okay. I'll run to the bank after class tomorrow." She chewed her lip for a moment, and I scented her concern.

My mistake had cost her.

* * * *

It took the rest of the week for the boots to dry; and when they did, the leather cracked. I could have dealt with that, but the toes of both boots also curled up, making them difficult to wear. Frustrated that the effort hadn't resulted in something I could wear to go job hunting, I hid everything back under the neighbor's shrub and knew I'd need to find some other footwear.

Friday afternoon, I lay beside Gabby, resolutely reading yet another book. I heard Rachel's car pull into the driveway much too quickly, then her rapid steps on the porch. I lifted my head.

"Gabby!" she called in a panicked tone.

Even with Gabby's cute little human ears, she picked up on the wrongness of Rachel's pitch.

"In here!" she said as she flew from the bed toward the door.

The two almost collided when Rachel burst into the room.

"What's going on?" Gabby asked, pulling back.

Gabby liked keeping a physical distance from people. Even Rachel. She didn't seem to like touching. It made each pat on the head even more special.

"Peter broke and told Scott he had plans to go to dinner with me tonight," Rachel said, out of breath.

"So...?"

I liked that Gabby tended to echo my thoughts when it came to Rachel.

"Peter's coming here to pick me up, and Scott's coming with."

My ears twitched involuntarily.

"Gabby, I don't think he's going to take no for an answer tonight. Peter can't shake him."

Scott was going to end up in the hospital. After the week I had, I wasn't in the mood to deal with him nicely.

Gabby groaned, flopped back on her bed, and landed on me. Full body contact with her back. I didn't care. I loved it. She even reached back to pat me and apologize.

"Sorry, Clay." She froze then bolted up right. "I've got an idea! Rachel, if you have any clothes that would say I've been dating a guy for a while, can I borrow them?"

Wait, what?

"Sure, but who are you dating?"

Yeah. Who?

Rachel moved out of Gabby's way as Gabby rushed from the room. I jumped off the bed and followed. She crammed some shoes onto her feet as she walked to the door, almost falling twice along the way. I stared at her wondering what she was doing.

"I'll let you know when I bring him home. Come on, Clay," she said, holding open the door.

She wanted me along? I hurried through the door.

She rushed to the car, opened the door, and waved for me to get in. I was barely out of the way when she pushed in behind me and slammed the car door. I studied her as she careened out the driveway.

"You're here to keep me safe, right?"

I grunted in surprise. It wasn't a rhetorical question. She really wasn't sure.

I'm here to keep you safe and more, Gabby, I thought. But I remained quiet, waiting for her to state her point.

"Then, I need you to be more than my dog."

I tilted my head at her, unsure how to take that comment.

She glanced at me nervously.

"I need you to put on your skin. Be my date tonight. Please?"

She wanted me. My pulse leapt, and the ache that had slowly eased over the days spent lying beside her came back with such force that I struggled to inhale. She wanted me as a man, as her date. I almost shifted right then.

"You took a shower today, right?"

Like a well-aimed porcupine quill, her little dart dug deep. I snorted.

"Do you know what size you wear? Shirt, pants, shoes?"

I blinked at her. I had no idea. I put on things that looked like they would fit. Everything I'd found, I'd tried on.

She didn't seem bothered by my lack of answer. With a slight squeal of tires, she pulled into an open space in a huge parking lot and slammed on the brakes. I almost hit the dash.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," she said. She was out the door before I could nod.

I stared after her and watched her disappear into a store. What was she up to? Scott was coming; and instead of just leaving the house, she was asking me to be her date?

A slow smile spread on my lips as I began to see her plan. She wanted to show the man that I had a Claim on her. She didn't want to avoid him; she wanted to stop any future interest. I stood and stared at the store with pride. She wanted me.

She ran out of the store a few minutes later with a bag hanging from her arm. She opened the car door, tossed the bag at my feet, slid behind the wheel, and backed out, all in a matter of seconds.

Her driving made my stomach turn as she raced home.

Gabby pulled into the driveway, came to another jarring stop, then killed the engine as she opened her door. Rachel stood by the back door, waiting. The clingy dress she wore didn't bode well for Gabby because I doubted the stack of clothes in Rachel's arms was much different.

"Where's your date?" Rachel asked as she scanned the car. "The guys are going to be here in fifteen minutes."

Gabby waved her back into the house. "He'll be here in a few minutes. I hope."

I followed just behind Gabby and saw her toss the bag into the bathroom.

"Let's go in my room, and you can help me pick what to wear."

"Really?" Rachel's excited squeal made me wince. It wasn't the pitch; it was how she would dress Gabby.

They disappeared around the corner into the living room while I stayed by the bathroom.

"I need something a little tropical or hippie-ish," Gabby said as she closed her bedroom door.

I looked at the bag. What had she purchased? I walked into the bathroom, then shifted and closed the door. In the bag, I found some weird cloth pants, a matching shirt, and sandals. Even without growing up human, I knew I'd look like an idiot. I knew what men wore. It wasn't that.

But she'd asked me to be a man for her. I sighed and started the shower. Though I'd already bathed, I knew how she was about my scent.

I listened to the murmur of their voices through the walls. Then suddenly Gabby's voice rose, and I could clearly hear her.

"...because I'm cheap, I got him some clean clothes from the summer closeout racks..."

So it was money behind the selection and not annoyance. That relieved me but also concerned me. I was eating her food, breaking her washing machine—the cost of the vet was all on her—and now she had to buy me clothes, too? I'd wanted her to become dependent on me. Instead, I was dependent on her.

I stepped into the shower and quickly washed. When I finished, I refrained from shaking off. Gabby didn't like the mess that made. I used my designated towel, dried, and hung it over the edge of the tub. Then I stared at the clothes. There was a package of shorts and a pair of pants. I looked the package over. Underwear. Hmm. They didn't have that at the Compound. Shrugging, I opened the package and shook a pair out. I eyed it. It looked...small. I stretched the sides out, in doubt. Maybe it would work, but was it necessary?

She wouldn't have included it if it wasn't. At least from her point of view. I stepped into the underwear and carefully pulled them up. They held everything as firmly as the vet. I tugged the legs down and won an inch of breathing room. Resigned, I stepped into the pants. They fit all right and were comfortable enough. The shirt was snug across my shoulders. If I needed to grab Scott, I'd rip a seam. No grabbing Scott, then. Unless he really deserved it.

Someone tapped on the door.

"Do you need help?" Gabby's whispered words reached me through the door.

I nervously looked at myself in the mirror, ran my fingers through my long hair and beard, then eyed the sandals. I wasn't wearing them or going to another dinner with Scott, Peter, and Rachel. The first one had been worse than a run in with a skunk.

"Please hurry, Clay," Gabby said.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. Gabby waited for me in a pretty knee-length, cream skirt and a light yellow top that showed her neck and collarbones. She had her hair back and something about her eyes looked different. She stole my breath most days, but in this moment, she made me want to drop to my knees.

As I stared at her, her gaze swept over me, lingering on the shirt and my shoulders. I was worried that she was thinking it didn't look right. Then a slight change in her scent hit me. Interest. I wanted to shout and laugh. Instead, I calmly put my hands in my pockets and let her look her fill.

With a pink tint to her cheeks, she looked away.

"Brat," she said under her breath, and I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or herself. Then she cleared her throat and said, "You'll do."

Behind her, Rachel smirked at us. Gabby turned and caught her amusement.

"Quiet from the peanut gallery."

The doorbell rang. Rachel ran to the front door, and Gabby slowly followed. I trailed behind her, watching the gentle sway of her skirt.

"Come on in," Rachel said to Peter.

Peter stepped in, and Scott followed just inches behind. Peter's nervousness clouded the room. Scott's lust quickly overpowered it, though, and I fisted my hands in my pockets and stepped closer to Gabby. The man's gaze flicked to me, and I knew he saw the possession in my stance.

"Hi, Peter," Gabby said. "Nice to see you again, Scott. We were going to join you guys, but Clay just got off of work a little while ago and suggested he and I take advantage of the empty house tonight."

A lie I would happily die to see come true.

I watched anger color Scott's face.

"Isn't Clay your dog?"

I didn't care for his tone and narrowed my eyes at him.

"We named the dog after my boyfriend. It's a bit of a joke. Clay, meet Peter and Scott, Rachel's friends."