"On what?"
"I don't know how much to bring," she said. "Enough clothes for a week? Two weeks? What happens if they can't figure out who this guy is anytime soon? I can't live with your forever."
Clay wasn't sure he'd mind if she stayed forever, but he didn't say so. Instead, he just said, "Pack enough for two or three weeks. If they find him before then, great, and if not, you'll have enough clothes to last for a while."
She studied him with wary eyes as she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. "That won't freak you out?"
Clay shrugged. "Nope. Unless you want to bring half your furniture. That might do it."
As he hoped, Dylan smiled and laughed a little. "Okay. I'll pack both suitcases then."
"Anything I can do to help?" he asked.
"You've already done so much. You fixed my door and cleaned up the mess that guy left," Dylan said.
"Yeah, but it's not like I have a limit for helpfulness," he said. "Put me to work. Besides, it's nearly lunch time and my breakfast is about to wear off. You need to eat also."
"Okay, okay," she said. "Why don't you gather up my plants and get them ready to go? I have several pots in the kitchen and living room. Oh, and the orchid in my bathroom. Don't take them out of the house yet because I'll have to explain what's going on before we leave."
Clay blinked. "You'll have to explain what's going on?"
"I know it sounds weird, but they know what I'm saying, even if they can't really answer."
To her utter surprise, he shrugged and said, "Okay. That makes sense."
He left the room without another word and she got busy packing. Thirty minutes later, she'd jammed as many clothes and toiletries into her two suitcases as she could. She'd also unearthed a tote bag she used to use when she went to the gym and had filled it with shoes.
After double-checking that she wasn't forgetting anything important, Dylan zipped up her suitcases, slid them off the bed, and wheeled them into the living room with the tote bag sitting on top of one.
She blinked when she saw all of her plants sitting on the coffee table and the floor right in front of it. Clay was nowhere to be seen. She stuck her head outside the front door but he wasn't there. Confused, she decided to try the back. A quick peek out the window revealed Clay walking around her patio, taking measurements with a tape measure.
Dylan opened the back door and went outside. "What are you doing?" she asked.
Clay looked up from the little notepad he was writing on. "I'm measuring your patio for furniture. You don't even have a chair out here."
"You don't need to buy me patio furniture," she argued.
"Who said I'm buying it?" he asked absently, going back to his notepad.
"You don't need to make me patio furniture either. I doubt I could even afford to pay you for the materials."
He looked up then and waggled his eyebrows. "I'm sure we could work out a payment plan."
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Clay, seriously, don't make me patio furniture."
"Fine," he said with a sigh, tucking the notebook back in his pocket. "I'll wait for your birthday. Or Christmas. Are you done packing?"
The last question threw her. "Uh, yeah. Thanks for getting all my plants together."
"What about the ones back here?"
A little embarrassed, Dylan answered, "I'll go out and tell them. I've already asked Sylvie to come out and water them and talk to them."
He seemed amused by her response.
"Can you give me a minute?" she asked, even more embarrassed to have him watch her talk to her plants.
"Sure. I'll go load your suitcases into the truck."
