Chapter Sixteen
“Coyotes cursed to solitude,
For all the days commenced,
‘til a woman with assertitude,
Teaches them some common sense.”
Lyrics from the folk song “Crossroads Coyote”
Clem watched the horses run along the ceiling.
Her nightlight projected the glowing images of the animals racing in an endless circle, their shapes created by light and shadow. She hoped Bill didn’t think her fear of the darkness was childish, like Johnny always did.
She sent a quick look his way. “Um… are you busy tomorrow?”
Bill was standing by the side of the bed, plugging in his phone. “I got to get up early and run a bothersome errand.” He said casually. “But I’ll be back under the covers, before you even miss me. Then in the afternoon, I got a real important appointment.”
Right. That phone call he’d received before Rosalee arrived at their house. Clem refused to ask about his “important appointment.” Refused . He should tell her without her having to probe. That was obviously what any normal person would do: Explain all their important appointments, with no prompting, so their roommate wouldn’t freak out about why they weren’t invited along.
Really, he should just invite her along.
“Well, in the morning we can work on your music.” She decided, pointedly ignoring the mystery. “It’s vital that we capitalize on tonight’s triumph.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
“Yes! You were the best performer on stage, by a huge margin. I’m sure you would’ve had an encore in the finale, if it wasn’t for the brawl.”
“Guess it’s lucky I got arrested, then. I didn’t practice any other songs.”
She ignored his negativity. “And also tomorrow, could you speak with Luke?”
“Oh, I’ll be speaking to that boy.” Bill promised and set his phone on the small, wooden table he used as a nightstand. “Just as soon as I possibly can.”
“Good. I’m so worried. He’s not in his apartment. I think he’s hiding.”
“Probably ‘cause he knows I’m gonna be speaking to him.”
“He needs a role model, Bill. Someone like you, who can show him how to be a good man.”
“I’m a Bad man.”
“Not in any way that matters.”
Bill shot her a brooding, penetrating, intense sort of look that liquefied her ovaries to goo. Being at the center of his attention felt like being scorched from the inside out.
She adjusted the covers to give her hands something to do besides grab him and pull him on top of her ravenous body. “Luke likes me, I think, even though he doesn’t want to. That’s why he was so worried that you’d hurt me. Before that, he was giving me advice about living with a coyote.”
“What kind of advice is that?”
“Not to touch other men.” She paraphrased. “And not let them touch me.”
Bill gave a grudging nod. “So medical advice, then. Keepin’ them fellas outta the ICU.”
She rolled her eyes at his teasing. “It’s because of the scents. I know that you said they’re not a big deal, but from now on I’m not going to shake hands with people, if I can help it. No extra smells to bother you. I want you to be happy and safe, Bill. I want the same for Luke.” She paused. “He reminds me a little bit of you, actually.”
Bill began unbuttoning his new blue shirt, which sadly now had Stew’s blood on it. That awful man was so thoughtless. Clem hoped that he rotted in jail. “Well, the kid and me are both coyotes. Seems you got a deep understanding for our kind.”
“I’m trying, but you’re a difficult group. The scent thing makes me worry about how well my deodorant lasts.”
His mouth curved at one corner.
“Anyway, you two being coyotes isn’t what makes you and Luke similar. I’m talking about your same,” she shrugged, “soulfulness.”
Bill looked at her through his lashes. “Soulfulness.”
“Yes. It’s what makes your music so incredible. You have deep hidden passions.”
He took off his shirt. “Well, I can’t argue with that. I am feelin’ some passion.”
Holy moly! Clem quickly looked away from the spectacular muscle definition of his chest, her mouth going dry. Wow. She was feeling some passion, too. The rush of it left her flushed and fidgety.
You are not enticing him into sex tonight. You are not enticing him into sex tonight.
“Um…” She tried to think and repeat the mantra in her head at the same time. “What was I saying?”
“How me and Luke are soulful.”
“Right! You are. Luke is still a child, though. A positive male influence would help him immeasurably and you’re such a wonderful example. A thoughtful, successful artist, who can help him channel his emotions in healthy ways.”
Bill climbed onto the bed next to her. “If I’m so successful, why am I unemployed. …Again.”
“You’re successful, because you make beautiful music.” Clementine kept a careful distance from him, as he adjusted his pillows and lay down. Not just to remind herself not to seduce the poor man; she also didn’t want to crowd him. Bill’s bed was huge, so he must like a lot of room when he slept. “And when you play music you love, things will be even better. It will be something you’ve created.”
Bill made a noncommittal sound, but she knew him well enough to interpret what it meant.
“You’re writing a song!” She beamed. “Bill, that’s so exciting!”
“I’m just thinkin’, not writing. I was looking at that one in your pa’s book. My One True Love . I got some,” he gestured to his temple, with a vague flick of his hand, “ideas about it, all of a sudden. I can feel your magic helping me put them together.”
“Can you?” That surprised her.
Johnny could never sense her powers working. Typically, a muse’s input was invisible to the artist. As she suspected, this was an exceptionally strong match. Her magic was attempting to flow straight into Bill’s creativity with no barriers.
“It glows.” Bill closed his eyes, visualizing it. “It’s smoothing down rough spots and frustrations. Addin’ a little bit of sparkle. Makin’ everything brighter.” He gave a sensual sound, like the presence of her magic within him was arousing. “It feels like… you.”
Clem swallowed. “There are doors between us, still. If you open up all your emotions, our connection will grow even deeper. The energy will expand exponentially.”
He opened his eyes and looked her way. “Can you feel me any, on your end of the connection?”
“Some.”
A lot. Much more than she’d sensed with Johnny. She felt the strength of Bill’s mind. Deep, intricate layers of ideas, both dark and light. It was like standing in a lightning storm and sensing the charge in the air. Knowing you were in the midst of some huge power that could light up the whole world.
Or destroy you.
The unexpected warning flitted through her mind. Being so close to Bill was dangerous. He had the capacity to wound her far deeper than Johnny ever had, because her feelings for him were so much bigger.
Inadequacy resurfaced within Clem, unwelcomed remnants from her teenage years. No matter how hard she’d tried, she’d never quite fit in anywhere. Maybe Bill was keeping his deepest emotions closed behind that door, because he mostly cared about his career and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings by letting her know.
Bill’s head tilted, seeing her unsure expression.
She chewed on her lower lip.
His brows rose questioningly, asking what was wrong.
She lifted a shoulder, telling him it was nothing.
He turned onto his side, not satisfied with her half-hearted response, and waited for her to explain.
She rolled so she faced him, too.
They stared into each other’s eyes for a long minute.
“Just… overall… do you like having a muse?” Clem needed to be sure of at least that much.
Bill gave her a mysterious smile. “I like having my muse.”
“You wouldn’t have accepted a different one, though?”
“Not in a million years.”
“You’re positive?”
“Only you’re allowed in my head, darlin’.”
Clementine instantly felt better. “Good.” She flopped onto her back again, before she did something very stupid. You are not going to entice him into sex tonight.
No matter how blue his eyes were…
No matter how tempted she was by his clean, masculine scent…
No matter how much she wanted to run her fingers through his thick hair…
No matter how strong her urge was to explore the contours of his very beautiful ass…
She was determined to keep her hands to herself.
Muses were objectified, all the time, and it was degrading. Bill was a sensitive, thoughtful artist. Not just a desirable body. If he was focused on his career right now, there was nothing wrong with that. She would help him succeed. She wanted to! She’d prove to him that she could be a reliable and understanding partner. In the meantime, he would slowly discover his deeper feelings for her and soon she’d be in his arms.
God, Bill had nice arms.
Her eyes measured their width, remembering how he’d asked her to massage them after he’d been handcuffed. How strong they’d felt beneath her hands. The memory made her insides heat. Working on the railroad was a hot, dangerous job and she was glad he’d been fired from it. But –holy moly!-- did it do incredible things for a man’s biceps.
Bill shifted onto his back and stacked his arms behind his head, making the muscle stretch and bunch. That so wasn’t fair. “Anyhow, I’ve been mullin’ over your pa’s song, since you gave it to me. And all of a sudden I’m hearing something in my head… and it seems not so terrible.”
“When you have a muse, ideas come faster.”
“Well, like I said, I got some thoughts. Don’t get your hopes up, though. I doubt any of them are special.”
Clem wanted to be supportive, but she also wanted to hit him over his stubborn head. He worried about showing vulnerability and creating art required vulnerability. Therefore, he was reluctant to share any meaningful art with the world. That wouldn’t do.
“I just want you to practice writing music. Sometimes success is more about trying than it is about succeeding ."
“Success is succeeding. They’re both the same word.”
Crap. He was technically right about that. “Not for artists.” She declared with a superior kind of sniff.
Bill chuckled.
Clem loved making him laugh. She loved everything about Bill. Being as she was an ambitious kind of girl, she wasn’t about to let him get away when she could chase him. Yes, she was imagining far more prurient things than he was, but she wouldn’t pressure him.
…She’d just gently nudge him in the right direction.
As his manager, it was her job to handle all the pesky details of Bill’s life, after all. Artists were oblivious to day-to-day reality. You had to make things excruciatingly obvious for them. Romance was no different. She needed to provide some clear infrastructure to guide Bill towards loving her back. Or at least acknowledging that they had a romance.
“Bill, I’m going to suggest something and you can say no. Don’t feel bad, if you don’t want to try it. I know I can be pushy.”
“I never feel pushed by you.”
That was lucky, since Clementine was constantly pushing him. “I just know you’ve been through a lot tonight and sometimes that can make a person feel isolated. It might help to have me sleep a little closer to you. For moral support.”
“Ya know, I could use some support.”
Before Clem could even react, Bill had pulled her right up against him. He was still on his back, only now she was plastered to his side. It happened so quickly she could only blink. And feel. His muscles were hard. His touch was tender. His body temperature had to be at least ten degrees warmer than hers.
It was glorious!
She snuggled in, as he adjusted his (amazing) arm around her. He was a much better cuddler than Mr. Pandy. Sometimes being assertive really paid off. Look at what she’d accomplished.
Bill seemed pleased too. He made a low sound of contentment and dipped his head to nuzzle her hair. “You don’t ever gotta worry, you know. You always smell good.”
“I’d better, considering how much my shower gel costs.”
“That’s not what makes your scent so special. It’s just you.”
She smiled smugly, reassured that she was on firm, ethical ground. It wasn’t selfish to maneuver Bill into a relationship. They belonged together!
“Hey, Clem?” He murmured after a long moment.
“Hmmm?” Bill’s fingers traced up and down her back, lulling her into a pleasant doze.
“Where’d you get this top you’re wearing?”
She craned her neck to look at the ancient Red River High t-shirt she’d paired with pink pajama bottoms. “Oh. It used to be Johnny’s, I think.”
“Huh.”
Clem sensed Bill wasn’t thrilled with that answer. “I didn’t steal it.” She rushed to explain.
“I didn’t figure you did. I’m figuring he gave it to you, when you were datin’.”
“No, it’s just a relic from our high school days.”
“When you were datin’.”
“But see back then, Johnny weighed a lot more. So his clothes were bigger. Then he got in shape, when we were in college. And he was going to throw this shirt away, but it actually fits me. That’s when I got it. My chest has always been --um-- generous.”
That seemed like the most diplomatic way to put it. Her breasts were unfashionably big and there was really no hiding it. Not that she didn’t try, on occasion. For instance, Clem had opted to wear her softest bra to bed, in hopes that Bill wouldn’t notice any untoward jiggling or general unperkiness. She was trying to be more confident about her body, but there were just some grim realities to life and gravity was one of them.
“Ya know, I bet my shirts will fit you just fine.” To his credit, Bill’s eyes stayed on her face instead of sinking lower. “And if they don’t, I’m happy to buy a larger size. Go to the general store and pick out anything you like. My treat.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. You already bought me those new boots, with the adorable little spurs on them.” She smiled at his generosity, but felt compelled to add, “They still feel a little bit heavy, though. I’m used to wearing sneakers.”
“Boots are much better protection. Leather, metal, wood. High-quality materials to keep you safe from the dangers of the desert.” Bill said absently. He toyed with the edge of her sleeve, a frown wrinkling his brow.
“I have plenty of other nightgowns.” Clem assured him, before he offered to go sew her one. “I just knew this shirt would cover a lot of my body and, since we’re sharing the mattress, I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“That’s… real thoughtful.” Bill muttered.
He really did not like her shirt. She’d had no idea he had such an interest in fashion. He sure hadn’t paid much attention when she tried chasing him in her cutest clothes. And most days Bill just wore old jeans.
He looked great in jeans.
She scooted even closer to him and since she’d already been pretty dang close to him, it meant she was now halfway lying on top of his body. Bill didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he moved his arm to hitch her up higher on his chest. Now, she was all the way on top of his body.
His eyes took on a glow. The coyote inside of him was nearer to the surface than usual. Clem could see it peering at her through Bill’s gaze. Instead of frightening her, it made her core clench against a spike of desire.
Bill’s jaw flexed and she got the feeling he was struggling to suppress the shifter part of himself. To keep it hidden.
“You don’t have to do that. I don’t mind seeing your coyote.”
Bill stared at her for a beat. “I don’t wanna scare you.” He finally murmured.
“You won’t. The coyote’s just you.”
Bill swallowed. “Yeah, that’s right.” His hand petted her unruly hair. “It’s all just me.” She saw another animalistic flash of electric blue in his gaze, as if he’d stopped trying to restrain his coyote and was now letting it look straight at her. “And you don’t ever have to be afraid of any single part of me.”
“I’m not.” She reiterated. Clem would never marry someone she was scared of, and she was going to marry Bill.
That was another reason why her plan to strip him naked really should wait. Supporting his emotional well-being was paramount. Obviously. But there was also the matter of scheduling.
Seducing him was a stellar idea and Clem fully planned to implement it. It would be best to approach their romance in order, though: First love, then marriage, and finally sex. Waiting until their wedding night seemed very sweet, and Bill was a very sweet man. He would appreciate that kind of gesture.
“Not all coyotes have control of themselves in their animal-forms.” Bill kept tracing his fingers along her spine. “Especially the young ones. Shifting is when we start to physically mature, because it’s when the other half of us awakens. That’s another reason to be wary of Luke. When his coyote emerges, he’s gonna be fighting the call to go feral.”
“Did that happen to you?”
He cleared his throat and she sensed it was a bad memory for him. “The initial time is hard and I was on my own for it. The aftermath leaves you feeling… possessed. Something new is in your head and it’s angry. Strong. Driven by instinct. Learning to balance it is a process.”
“I’m so sorry. It must have been terrifying and I know you hate feeling vulnerable.”
“I’m not vulnerable.” He said swiftly.
Clem rolled her eyes, but didn’t press it. “Okay.”
“I’m just telling you what it’s like for young coyotes. We start shifting about Luke’s age and some of us never come back out of it. I kept control, but he might not.”
“Maybe he’s already shifted.”
“Nah. My coyote would know if he was an adult. I figure that’s why I’ve never felt real territorial about Luke living so close to me. Usually, my coyote would be on guard, but it’s always tolerated the kid well enough. His shift is comin’ soon, though, and it’d be real easy for him to slip into wildness. Nothing much is anchoring that boy to civilization.”
“We’ll have to help him through it, then.”
“It’d be safer to stay away from him. I feel like I keep saying that.”
“Well, you do tend to nag.” Clem agreed. She adjusted her weight on his body, morbidly aware of her BMI. “Are you sure you’re comfortable? I’m not crushing you?”
“You’re perfect.” Bill twisted one of her curls between his fingers. Blonde strands tangled around his knuckles and he looked entranced. He was very tactile. Artists often craved sensory input.
Clementine had never felt so safe and cozy.
Bill seemed just as content. He hummed a few notes that she recognized as My One True Love , his body relaxed and his touch gentle.
She suppressed a smile. “I’d like to hear your song, whenever you’re ready. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just play it for fun.”
He made a dissatisfied sound. “It’s not good enough, yet. Just not terrible . Nothing I hear in my head is ever good enough, which is why I never write it down.”
No matter how many times she explained the idea of practice , he clearly wanted his work to be flawless or he wouldn’t play a single note.
“If you’re determined to have your very first song be a masterpiece, then you need to put your emotions into it.” She counseled. “True art can’t be half-assed. It takes everything.”
“All or nothin’.” He muttered. “That’s always how it goes with stuff that matters.”
“Exactly.” She rested a hand on his chest. “Great art comes from great truth. And the greatest truths are only felt by the heart.”
“I don’t have a heart.”
She deflated a bit at how sure he sounded. “I think you’d better find one, Bill. …For your music’s sake.”
And for hers.