Broken Warrior (The Weavers Circle 1)

“Clay? You okay?”

Dane was watching him, and Clay had lifted his hand like he was going to touch the man. He hurriedly dropped it, heat creeping up his neck. “That small coffeepot you bought yesterday. I was looking for some detergent to wash it out.”

“It’s in a basket in the utility room along with everything else from the cabinets.”

“Where’s the utility room?”

Dane pointed to a door past the breakfast area. “There’s good coffee in there, too. Jo has excellent taste.” He descended the ladder, forcing Clay to take a couple of steps away. “You okay this morning?”

“I’m good. Very good.” This time, he had to force himself not to stare at the arm muscles bulging from under the tight black T-shirt. Fuck, he bet Dane looked fantastic naked with his lean, whipcord physique.

Before he could embarrass himself more, he gave Dane a quick smile and escaped into the utility room. It didn’t take long to find the coffee and detergent, and he hurried through the kitchen and passed Baer, who’d obviously been standing there for a while.

Baer followed him and stopped at the doorway to the master bedroom. “Those were some big ol’ goo-goo eyes you had going at the handyman, there. I get it. He’s a stunner.”

“You gay, too?” Clay asked. Something possessive growled in his chest at the thought of Baer and Dane.

“Always have been.”

Clay opened his mouth to warn the man away from Dane, but Baer chuckled and held up a hand.

“Easy to see you’ve staked your claim, and I don’t poach.”

“It wouldn’t be poaching. I’m not with him.”

Baer’s grin widened, turning into something sly. “But you want to be.”

“Yeah.” Clay cleared his throat, not sure why he was being so honest. “I do.”

“Well, I don’t blame you is all I’m saying. He’s just so…rugged.”

Amusement curled in Clay’s gut—if anyone was the epitome of rugged, it was Baer with his full beard and tattoo sleeves. The man was around five foot ten and built like a tank with broad shoulders and massive arms. “Is he the type you usually go for?”

Baer shrugged. “Don’t have a type, you know? I’ve found both twinks and bears sexy. It depends on the man himself.”

Clay nodded, understanding completely. “I’ve never had a preference for certain looks either.”

“You definitely go for the kind with Dane’s looks.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Clay glanced at soap bubbles filling the carafe. “Want some coffee?”

“Not with soap.”

Chuckling, he nodded. “Smartass.” Clay suddenly sighed in frustration, ready to bang his head on the wall. “I forgot to grab mugs.”

“I’ll grab them while you start the coffee. You’re gonna need it to get those brain cells working. Thought we could go out and do some more practicing.”

Clay smirked at him. “Have a need to try out more animal forms?”

“I’m worried about how long it’ll take me to switch back.” Leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, Baer scratched his jaw. “Plus, I was exhausted last night when I finally found my way to my human form. I’m wondering if it’s always like that.”

“How about the voices? Still hearing them?”

“So many, it’s crazy. Sort of like always being in a crowd. Inside the house is quieter, though.” He paused and a wide smile returned to his lips. “But the best is Ruby. I found out how much that dog loves me. Luckily, she thinks in mostly images and one-word sentences, but the love is so strong, it’s overwhelming. I am basically her whole world.” His lips tilted in a frown. “Reminds me of the dog I had until I was sixteen. About killed me when he died.”

“I find it interesting that your affinity for animals has always been there. Almost like some part of you knew.” He finished rinsing the soap out of the carafe and turned off the water. He stepped farther down the counter and snagged a towel to dry off the glass exterior.

“Even my degree had something to do with that. Wanting them to have safe places to live.” Baer dropped his hand to his side. “What about you? Always had plants or something?”

Clay shook his head. “Moved around too much, but as a child, I spent a lot of time in my parents’ garden.”

“I’ll go grab the mugs while you start the coffee and get dressed.” He sauntered toward the kitchen.

Clay prepped the coffeemaker and got the brew started. He pulled on some jeans and a Henley, wincing as he lifted his arms over his head. The wounds pulled a bit.

Staring into the mirror, he realized he already looked better. Less exhausted and pain no longer cut lines in his face. He hadn’t even suffered a headache in twenty-four hours.

His dark hair was sticking up all over the place, though. Not exactly the best impression to make on Dane if he was trying to…well, no, he couldn’t have Dane. Clay might be willing to stay at the plantation house for a little while, but he had nothing to offer. And Dane was definitely a guy who deserved more than a quick fuck and red taillights.