Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

NICHOLAS

Clay is leaving.

I sweep Blossom at the end of the day, and my thoughts circle over that reality. He's selling the building, severing the connection between us, and in just a few weeks, he'll be gone.

Messy feelings tumble around, stirring in my gut and twisting behind my ribs, clouding my vision and thoughts.

It's irrational, but I want him to stay. I know that's not going to happen. I'd be asking him to give up his dream after he's done so much to support me and Blossom. Not to mention the fact that he doesn't want romance in his life. And there's no reason to think that us working now necessarily means that we'd work in reality. If we tried to navigate an actual relationship, we might fall apart.

Like I told him the other night, we don't even have experience dating in public. Whatever relationship we do have, it's barely left this building.

The one thing I know is that I'm not going to let my confused emotions ruin the end of this time we do have. I'm going to follow through on every horny promise Clay and I have made to each other, and if that leads to a nasty emotional crash when he departs, so be it.

The point of this is to have fun, and I owe it to Clay and to myself to do that. It's not hard to look on the bright side of this situation, and that's weeks more of Clay all to myself, longer than I ever thought I'd get with him in the first place.

I'll just have to guard my heart until then, and prove to myself that I am capable of this.

A knock on the door grabs my attention. People often come by after close, hoping to get some emergency flowers for a hospital visit or forgotten anniversary. But with just a glimpse of the shape through the window, the familiar shift of weight from side to side, I know it's Clay.

When I open the door, he's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. In a fresh white T-shirt and jeans, he looks spruced up. He shaved yesterday, I know from the shadow of his beard, and he sports a simple silver necklace that I've never seen before.

Clay cocks up his head. "You busy?"

"Not until our plans later."

"Good. Finish up what you're doing here." He looks toward the street, and I see his truck is parked in front of the building. "I'm taking you out."

A rumble goes through my belly at how possessively he says that, something that I definitely shouldn't like.

"First I've heard of it," I tease, pushing back a little as I try to rein in my feelings.

Is he whisking me away for a date?

Clay steps inside. "You and I both need a break. We're working too much. And didn't you say the other night—you're allowed to surprise me?" He frowns. "So get in the truck and let me surprise you."

I grin. "Okay."

Ten minutes later, we're on the road, headed out of town. Clay has the windows cracked and the radio on low, and clouds drift lazily over the sun as we cruise.

"North," I say. "Very interesting. Are you absconding with me to Canada?"

"Not quite."

He takes an exit, pulling onto another highway, and I perk up.

"Niagara Falls?" I ask, almost yelping. "Are you taking me to honeymoon paradise?" I fake gasp. "Are you going to propose?"

"Hell no," he answers with his eyes on the road. "Niagara Falls is only half an hour away, but I heard Kavya mention how no one from the gayborhood ever goes there because it's all tourists. So I figured, perfect place for a night out, right?"

"A night out?"

"Can't have you thinking I'm a halfhearted bisexual just because I never dated a man in public. And I've got some extra cash from all those jobs with Sue. I want to spend some of it on something fun."

"In that case, I guess I'm something fun."

He shoots me a quick glance. "Looks like it. We can grab dinner in town, stop off at a hotel for our hookup, and I'll still get you back home at a decent time tonight."

My heart pounds. It's easier to control my feelings when we keep everything else tucked away, too. Secret and discreet.

Being with Clay in public is going to test my resolve, but I'm not about to turn him down. He's trying to have fun and treat me right, and it's sweet that he wants to celebrate with me. I know putting himself out there like this isn't easy for him.

"I haven't been here since I was a teenager," I confess.

"Let's start with dinner," Clay says. "I'm hungry. I looked up a couple places online earlier today. There's a Japanese restaurant with good vegetarian food. How does that sound?"

"Delicious."

"Good."

He looked up vegetarian restaurants for me ahead of time. Being considered by Clay like that feels good, the same tingle I felt when he bossily told me to get in his car.

It's a weeknight, but it's still summer, so the traffic thickens as we pull into town. Clay follows directions to the restaurant, and we're lucky enough to find parking just down the block.

Everywhere we look, there seems to be happy couples, gazing at each other and holding hands, kissing and laughing. But Clay keeps his eyes on me as we stroll down the sidewalk, like nothing else matters.

"How does it feel to be on a date with a man in public?" I ask him.

"Everyone thought we were on a date when you first walked me around the gayborhood," he points out.

"True. Although I probably should insist you hold my hand this time. For experimentation reasons."

Clay half-smiles at me. Without another word, he steps by my side and casually slides his hand into the back pocket of my jeans, hitching me close as we walk.

When I suck in a surprised breath, he gives me a soft squeeze. "How's this?"

Lava oozes through my body. I can feel blood rushing to my crotch, and I have to steady my breathing to fight off an obvious erection as I lean against him, falling into pace.

"You're trouble tonight," I tell him, and Clay laughs.

The restaurant is dimly lit with wooden interiors and plants along the walls. Clay insists that he's paying and that he won't feel comfortable splurging on himself unless I do the same. I decide not to argue. It's a treat to see this side of him, so I'm not about to discourage the behavior.

He mumbles when he talks to the host and has to repeat himself, and Clay accidentally bangs his chair against the table when he sits down. As soon as we're comfortable, though, the rest of the restaurant fades away, and his attention is right back on me.

We get drinks and soy-glazed eggplant to start, which I pick. Clay obviously expects to hate it but puts on a brave face and ends up loving it, scarfing them down and ordering a second round.

He leans forward when he's done, and I can feel his presence across the table. He's not particularly affectionate, but the strength of his gaze, the brush of his hand over mine, and the draw of his energy are enough to make me feel like I'm his, and everyone knows it.

I hold his eye, enjoying the building anticipation.

"I bet you're the kind of guy who always insists on paying," I tell him. "Every time."

Clay scoffs.

"Not true?"

"There's just not much of an always. But when I have taken a woman out for dinner or drinks, you're damn right that I pay." He eases back, but his energy stays wrapped around me. "How do you work it out, anyway? With two guys, I mean." He frowns. "I will always pay when you're with me," he clarifies sharply.

I grin. "It's like everything else. It depends on the people and the situation. For me, I always like to pay when I ask someone out. That way money doesn't have to be a consideration for someone joining me in something fun. But also, I've dated guys before who like to always split, which is also fine. And sometimes there are other cultural considerations. It really depends."

"There's never an easy answer."

"I think the easy answer is to just communicate and listen to each other. Same as with straight relationships."

He snorts. "Super easy."

I wink. "You're getting pretty good at it."

"Thanks. By the way, my takeaway from this conversation is that I'm allowed to always insist on paying."

I laugh.

Our food arrives, two big bowls of ramen with mushrooms, bamboo shoots, corn, and countless other tasty bits. I know Clay is going to object, so I go ahead and dump the pickled things and other special sides into his bowl for him, confident that he'll love the flavors.

He tilts the bowl up to his mouth to try the steaming broth first, grunting with satisfaction.

I stir my dish together with my chopsticks as I smile. When I finally go at the noodles, I make sure to slurp for Clay's satisfaction.

We focus on eating and making little satisfied noises for a while.

Clay stops and watches me as I devour, which adds a whole new depth to the satisfaction of the good meal.

"This whole damn town," he says, lowering his voice under the noise of the restaurant. "Niagara Falls. It's nothing but that hearts and flowers stuff you love."

I laugh, knowing that he means it teasingly, only kindness behind his words. "That's right."

He glances at another couple, kissing over their table, and shakes his head.

"Half of it I still don't understand. But you're helping me to appreciate something."

"What's that?"

He leans forward just slightly more. "How good and horny it makes me to eat a full meal and feed someone else, knowing the whole time that I'm going to blow your mind in bed later. And you know what's really fucked up?"

I swallow, my heart racing to hear the words in public. "What's that?"

His gaze turns to steel. "Everyone here can look at us and know exactly what we're doing. A part of me might even like that."

Oh hell. I am coming totally undone. I squeeze my thighs together, struggling not to whimper.

We promised we were going to make full use of the last of our time together, and Clay clearly meant every word of it.

I take a drink from my sweet cocktail, steadying myself, and eye him playfully.

"They don't know everything," I tell him, risking some dirty talk in a hushed voice. "I'm the only one who knows what your mouth feels like between my cheeks. And how hard you get when you suck me. And we're definitely the only ones who know that you're going to fuck me for the first time tonight."

He groans under his breath and slurps up some more noodles. "Fuck, Nicky. You're going to make me break my promise."

"Your promise?"

"I told myself I need to take you to the waterfalls before I drag you to the hotel. But if you're going to talk like that, I don't think I can take the wait."

Heat pools through me. "Oh no," I tell him. "You're taking me to those waterfalls."

We go on like that through the rest of the dinner, teasing each other and touching and generally just acting like a couple on a honeymoon date. We don't get any particular attention from everyone else, and no one seems to really notice us when we walk down to the waterfalls, either, but that's perfect. It definitely makes it easier for Clay to enjoy himself, and I appreciate that he's relaxing, even around other people.

The thrill of hiding a secret is gone, and a different one appears.

I take his hand. "Not for any experiment," I tell him. "I just want to hold your hand. Is that okay?"

He squeezes my hand. "Sure."

Even this little indulgence tears me apart, reminding me that he's leaving. But what if this is my only chance to walk down the street with Clay and hold his hand? I need to feel what it's like. For me.

He moves beside me, complimenting my rhythm. We weave with the flow of people and walk toward the sound of the rushing water.

The falls appear in front of us, a curved cliff with gorgeous rivers tumbling down its green, verdant sides.

"Holy shit," Clay says, stopping in his tracks. "The power of that thing."

The waterfalls thunders, filling the air with cool moisture.

"It's even bigger than I remember," I say.

Clay turns to me. With Niagara Falls roaring around us, he places his hand on my cheek and comes closer.

I tilt my head up, and he meets me in a kiss.

We start slow, my tongue tasting the edge of his lips, his hand dragging down to my chest. Clay hitches me to him, kissing me deeper. His tongue enters my mouth, and when his hand slips into my back pocket again, I let out a surprised laugh.

He dips me back, taking me fully in his strength, and growls under his breath.

When we finally pull away, it takes me a second to catch my breath.

"Now I know how it makes me feel to touch you in public."

"How does it feel?" I ask.

"Proud."

Something blooms inside me.

"I can't afford one of these fancy hotels, but I can get us a decent one for a cheap price on the outside of town. How's that sound?"

I kiss him again, throwing my arms around his shoulders as the romance of the moment catches up with me. "Yes," I tell him. "Take me to the hotel."