I take a shaky breath. “I missed you. Last night was the worst night of my life, and all I wanted was you, and I hated that I wanted you because you're the one who hurt me.”
Clay closes the distance between us. His hands come up to stroke my face, those huge, rough hands that I've been dreaming about.
“I love you,” he says. “I know it's fast. I know I don't deserve?—”
I kiss him.
It's not gentle or sweet; it's messy and desperate. His arms wrap around me and sweep me off my feet. I hold onto his shoulders and pour everything into the kiss; all the hurt and the love I can't seem to stop feeling.
When we break apart, I'm breathless.
“I love you too,” I say. “You overprotective idiot.”
He laughs. Actually laughs, that rare sound that transforms his face. “You know that you’re the first person who’s ever called me an idiot and lived?”
I smile. “I can do it again if it turns you on. Now put me down. We have an event to run.”
The event is a hit.
By mid-afternoon, we've raised more money than the original goal. People line up at the hug stations. The bikers turn out to be surprisingly good huggers. Clay stays at station three for two hours. He hugs an elderly man who tells him about his late wife, and a single dad with a toddler on his hip. He's gruff and clearly uncomfortable, but he doesn't leave. He holds each person for the full twenty seconds, just like I taught him.
Tania calls at four o'clock, demanding a full update. I give her the short version while hiding in the storage room.
“So let me get this straight,” she says. “Your boss was a con artist, your biker boyfriend knew and didn't tell you, you broke up with him, and now he's running a hugging event to win you back?”
“Basically… yes.”
“This is the most romantic thing I've ever heard…”
The last visitor leaves at six. The volunteers start breaking down the stations, packing up the leftover stickers and stress balls. Brick claps his hands together, a sound that makes Dolly start barking.
“Good event, little mama.”
“Thanks for helping.”
“Thank the Prez.” He grins. “He had us here at six in the morning. Never seen him work that hard for anything.”
I find Clay by the door, watching the cleanup with his arms crossed. He looks exhausted. There are shadows under his eyes and a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there this morning.
“Hey,” I say.
He turns. “Hey.”
“You look tired.”
“Thanks.”
“When did you last sleep?”
He shrugs. “Doesn't matter.”
“Clay.”
“I had things to do.” His eyes search my face. “You okay?”
I take his hand. “Yes, I am now. Come home with me.”
His eyebrows rise. “Your place?”
