A New Forever (12 page)

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 snapped 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.

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."

This was everything she had ever wanted… deep down. But could she just marry him as if they didn't have the one major road block getting in the way?

"This isn't about April anymore," he said quietly, once again reading her mind.

"But it is. It will always be."

He shook his head. "No, Elodie. Not anymore. This is about you and me. This is about the life we both deserve to live. I loved your sister so much. You know I did. But that was a long time ago, and we can't keep letting that darkness in our past get in the way of what we have. And I believe we have something really good. Really special."

She nodded in agreement. "I agree. We do."

"Then marry me."

"What will people say?"

Clay ran his fingers through his hair, clearly becoming frustrated. "I don't care what people say. I only care what you say, and that you say
yes
."

"Can—can I have some time?" she asked, and it was the hardest thing she'd ever had to say. "I just want to recover some more, and see how we get on together when we're doing more than seeing each other occasionally. I just need some time… to think, to accept what could be."

Clay looked disappointed even though he was trying to hide it. "Sure you can. It's a big decision, I know. I don't want you to feel pressured."

Elodie nodded slowly in agreement. She reached for the ring to take it off and give it back to him, but he forestalled her, putting his hand over hers.

"No, you wear it. It looks beautiful on your hand." It made her hand seem that much smaller and more delicate from the sheer size of the rock. "Only give it back to me if your answer is no."

*****

Elodie recovered quickly, considering. She had no choice, really. Clay wouldn't have it any other way. He hovered over her for several weeks after she had gotten out of the hospital, until one day she asked, pointedly, as he tried to convince her to eat another helping of the wonderful dinner he had made, "Don't you have a large ranch to run?"

Clay had grinned. He'd been doing more of that lately, although she didn't know if he was generally feeling better about life, or if she was just around him more so she saw it more often than she had. "Don't you worry about my job, honey. I have a great team working for me. They have it under control." He frowned down at her. "Are you trying to get rid of me already?"

"Yes—if I keep hanging around you, I'm going to end up weighing more than an elephant."

He snorted. "Not likely. A stiff breeze would blow you over, casts and all."

"It would not," she answered indignantly. She could feel herself gaining weight as she lay there.

"Would too—stop arguing with me, or I'll take you over my knee right now."

Elodie gave him a hearty raspberry, secure in the knowledge that he wasn't about to spank her until she was healed.

"You're getting a mite big for your britches there, young lady." His threat gave her a tingle between her legs. She had grown to love the term 'young lady'. There was something so decadent about those two simple words.

"That's what I told you! I am getting too big for my britches! Stop trying to feed me like I was the Third Army, for crying out loud, or I won't fit into any of my clothes, not that you're letting me fit into them anyway..." she complained.

He was pretty much keeping her in bed as much as possible, and that meant she was in her pajamas all of the time. He had let her sit in the living room for a change of pace, but other than that, he didn't let her out of bed much at all.

She'd been graciously allowed into the living room because Joshua had dropped by. He had come by her apartment and found that it had been rented out, then had driven to the only other place he figured she'd end up, and the two men had stood around congratulating themselves on taking care of her, and looking self-satisfied in the extreme.

Elodie had wanted to smack the both of them, but she had refrained. At least she'd gotten Clay to let her decide whether or not she wanted pain pills, or she'd still be sleeping twenty hours a day. Elodie was very wary of the two of them being in the same room together, but apparently they had worked out some sort of uneasy truce, because they both behaved like gentlemen, and when Clay escorted Joshua to the door, she heard him say that he could come back any time he wanted to, and he actually managed to sound like he meant it.

But after a couple weeks of being forcibly bed bound, she put her foot down. Her casted foot, that was, on the carpet, gently, using the quad cane he'd gotten for her to help steady herself. Clay had taken her to the doctor just that morning, and the doctor himself had said that as long as she felt like it, she could—and should—get up and move around, that the concussion had resolved itself, and that once the casts were off, she'd be fine. Clay hovered around her as if she was going to fall at any moment, but she didn't. It felt wonderful to be up and about, although she did tire quickly, and didn't spend too much time up at first.

The restaurant where she'd worked hadn't been able to keep her job open, of course, so Elodie was unemployed and restless. Clay came home from work to find her staring at the television. The housework and cooking were done by women who came in and did exactly that for him. There was nothing for her to do, and he could see that she was going crazy from boredom.

*****

Noticing that Elodie was becoming a bit stir-crazy, he decided it was time to enact his next plan. So, one evening while she was watching a romance movie, he cleaned out one of the spare bedrooms and set up her easel and the meager painting supplies he had brought over from the apartment. The next day, he went out and bought about ten of everything he'd seen she had—different colors of paints, more blank canvases, brushes; everything he and the clerk at the crafts store could think of to outfit a studio for her at home.

The next Monday morning, he prodded her up when he awoke at six thirty, insisting she have breakfast with him before he had to leave and check on the livestock. Grumpily, and still very much asleep, she did, nearly falling face first into her oatmeal. But just before he should have been going to work, he instead helped her up the stairs to the last bedroom on the left—a corner room, with four big windows so she would have all the natural light she could stand.

Clay threw open the door as if he was showing her into a hotel suite or something. Elodie hobbled in and looked around, wide-eyed. "Clay! Oh my God, this is gorgeous! I can't believe it! A studio! Thank you!"

"You're welcome! I'm glad you like it. I wasn't sure exactly what to get, but I got a ton of it."

Elodie was busy picking her way through things. "I can see that."

"I wanted to give you something to do, and you paint so beautifully..."

"Thank you."

"You need something to keep you off the streets now that you're feeling better."

Elodie shook her head. "I need to get a job as soon as I get these awful things off."

Clay intended to disabuse her of that notion, but he wasn't willing to fight that fight quite yet. He reached out and caught her on her way past him, pulling her against him and dropping a fierce, passionate kiss on her mouth that had them both panting. "I want you to promise that you won't tire yourself out."

"I won't."

"Good. I didn't know if you'd want a television in here or not, but if you do, it's a simple matter to run the cable up here."

Elodie shook her head. "Thank you so much, Clay. This is a wonderful gift."

"You're welcome, my love." He checked his watch. "I'd better get going. I promised to meet the foreman about supplies."

She reached up as best she could and hugged him tight. "Have a good day."

"I will. Don't tire yourself out!"

Elodie rolled her eyes. "Yes, sir."

Clay patted her bottom familiarly as he left. "That's more like it."

He left with her heartfelt snort ringing in his ears.