Broken Warrior (The Weavers Circle 1)

With as much dignity he could muster, Clay shoved to his feet and shot both Grey and Baer warning glares. “Not a word to Dane if he appears before I return.”

“Don’t worry. He won’t be down for a while,” Jo said easily.

Rage roared through Clay like a flash flood rushing through a narrow canyon. He balled his fists at his side and took a step toward Jo. “What did you do to him?” he growled.

Jo raised one eyebrow at him, and he didn’t know whether it was in response to his tone or the low-level quake that clinked together the glasses in the cabinet. Clay didn’t give a shit. He liked Jo, thought she was a sweet woman…er…goddess, but if she did something to Dane…

“I didn’t do anything to Dane,” Jo said. “The poor guy needed a good night’s sleep. You boys must have really worn him out last night.”

More snickering rippled from the table, and Clay groaned as he left the room. He didn’t need this nonsense.

Crossing the living room, Clay caught sight of the smashed coffee table and a few stray feathers that could have come from an ostrich. He stepped into his bedroom and leaned against the door after closing it. Dropping his head on the wood, Clay groaned again. This had to be the world’s longest morning, and he hadn’t even had breakfast yet. His brain, of course, reminded him that staying in bed with Dane would have been preferable to facing the hyenas at the breakfast table.

But wouldn’t it have been awkward to wake up to Dane’s too-perceptive green eyes? They’d gotten most of their arguing out of their systems last night, but Clay didn’t want to face Dane’s inevitable regret over what they’d done. He didn’t want Dane to regret it. Hell, he wanted the man to revel in it, to come back for fucking more.

No, more sex was a bad idea.

Even if it had been fantastic sex.

Clay shoved away from the door and pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the floor where the rest of his dirty clothes piled in the corner. He stripped quickly and jumped into the shower. Unfortunately, the hot caress of the water brought to the forefront of his mind memories of Dane’s mouth and all the wonderful thing—

With a grunt, Clay turned the water over to cold. He was not giving in to the temptation of wallowing in thoughts of Dane, his hands, or his body. There was nothing between them. It was simply sex. And it wasn’t going to be repeated. That only made everything more complicated.

After a shower in record time, Clay dried off and pulled on clean jeans and a T-shirt. He hunted up his last pair of clean socks before returning to the kitchen. At least that wasn’t a hard decision. The smell of pancakes, sausage, bacon, and coffee perfumed the air. Heaven.

Maybe Jo was right. Everything would make a little more sense after breakfast and some more coffee.

When he stepped inside, Baer and Grey were carrying loaded plates over to the table, while Jo was filling up another. She smiled at him and handed the food over.

“Thank you. You don’t need to cook for us,” he said. At least he sounded civil again.

“I know, dear. I enjoy it.” She touched his cheek again and it was clear that his faux pas from earlier was clearly forgiven and forgotten. “Now tuck in while it’s warm.”

The food was delicious, and the conversation was…well, it was at least not stressful. They seemed to purposefully avoid talking about the pestilents or why they were all in that house in the first place. It was talk about the coming summer or places they’d all traveled. Grey didn’t say much, but Clay couldn’t blame him. The guy was probably trying to decide whether they were all insane and if he could escape with his life.

After breakfast, Baer and Clay helped to clear the dishes and load the dishwasher. Jo and Grey sat at the table, but at opposite ends and not talking. Just sipping their coffee quietly.

“Let’s go see this table Baer managed to smash to bits,” Jo said lightly with a clap of her hands. But where the clap had dispelled the tension the last time, it didn’t seem to work now. The air was thicker with anticipation, and Clay didn’t know if he should be more concerned for Grey or Jo.

As a group, they passed through the breakfast area and the family room that currently had no furniture because Dane had to rewire the electricity. What would actually be the formal living room was the current area of relaxation. Right now, it held only two worn love seats and a TV on a rickety old stand that was too damn small for it.

Grey stopped beside one of the love seats and slowly reached out to touch the faded fabric, the tips of his fingers tracing the lines. “I feel like I’ve sat on this sofa before. Before last night. Like it was another life.” Grey’s words came out strained and shaky.