Clay: You said you wanted to get him off your back and to stop worrying about you. This is how.
Maggie: But at the station? In front of your coworkers?
Clay: Yes. This way I can get all of my horny coworkers offyour back too.
Maggie: For a fake relationship, you sure have the possessive boyfriend role down.
Clay: Just playing my part. Now play yours. Meet me here in an hour.
Maggie: Yes, sir. Just finished showering. You know, you may want to invest in a hair catcher. I’ve been showering here for a week now and there's nothing stopping my hair from going down the drain. I don’t want to clog your pipes.
Clay: Ugh, don’t tell me you just got out of the shower while I’m at work. Now I’m picturing you naked.
Maggie: Washing my hair isn’t all I did…
Clay: Fuck me.
Maggie: Sorry, can’t do that since you’re working another twenty-four.
Clay: GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW MAGGIE HOLLISTER.
Thirty minutes later I’m making the drive from Clay’s apartment to the fire station to‘hard launch’my new fake relationship with Clay.
The past week has been a whirlwind of sneaking around and crashing at Clay’s apartment every night after my shifts at the hospital or co-op. It’s been nothing short of a dream. He’s shown me things I’d only seen in movies, pushing my limits until I’m left breathless and satiated, and providing me with multiple orgasms a night before we both collapse into sleep, covered in sweat and totally spent.
Truthfully, I’ve been running on fumes—McKenna caught me yawning in the dim light of the X-ray room more than once—but every sleepless night has been worth it and somehow, I’ve managed to compartmentalize my past feelings for him, keeping them separate from the pleasure I’m soaking up now. Maybe that’s because, beyond the nights we spend together, we hardlysee each other.
Clay’s been pulling double shifts at the fire station, sometimes staying overnight to help my dad who is currently short staffed. And when he’s not there, he’s training with Dallas for the upcoming tournament or helping his brothers at their ranch.
By the time I’m off work, I’m either training at the Pilates studio or working at the co-op. When night falls, we crawl into bed together, barely able to say a word before we’re all over each other.
On rare mornings, we eat breakfast in Clay's kitchen, him cooking and catch up on our days, but mostly, he’s out the door before I even wake up, off to Dallas’ farm to continue training.
As I pull into the fire station lot today, the crunch of gravel beneath my tires barely registers, my mind flashing back to just a month ago when I was here with my ex—how much has changed since then. The moment I step out of the car, Clay comes storming toward me, all heat and intensity, like a summer storm rolling in.
“Hey—” I don’t even get the word out before his arms wrap around me, his lips crushing against mine in a kiss that’s mixed with passion and punishment.
His hands grip my butt, lifting me off the ground as I lose myself in the moment. I can’t help but wonder,how fake is this really to him?Because he’s acting a little too convincing. When he sets me back down, I’m breathless, my heart racing.
“What was that for?” I manage, trying to find my footing again.
“Committing to the show,” he says, his voice firm.
There’s something off in his tone, and I can’t shake the feeling that he's upset about something. He’s just come off a 24-hour shift, but before that, everything seemed fine. Now? I’m not so sure.
He’s pulling me inside and up to my dad’s office before I canoverthink it. I hiss over his shoulder, “What’s your plan for this, big guy?”
He grunts like a caveman, and I can’t help but laugh. I’ve learned that Clay does this when his mind shifts into focused mode. He has a mission, telling my dad and his coworkers that we’re dating, and everything else in his peripheral has disappeared.
Maybe he’s tired of sneaking around and wants to get this over with, or maybe his siblings have been on his back again about training and he needs word of our “dating” arrangement to get out quickly. Whatever it is, Clay is full on possessive neanderthal right now. His hand raises to the door to knock but pauses. I watch his expression change carefully as he's considering what to do next.
He definitely hasn’t thought this through.
I laugh, folding my arms over my chest. “So... you don’t have a plan?”
He shakes his head, snapping out of whatever stream of thought he was considering. “Don’t need one,” he shoots back as he glances my way with a wink and drops his fist, pounding firmly.
I roll my eyes, “Ok…your funeral,” I mouth. I don’t think my dad will be furious about us dating, but I do know he’ll have some choice words for Clay, given the age gap—and the fact that Clay works for him.
