8. Clair #3
“I…see,” she said at last, trying to cover the awkward silence that had fallen between them. For some reason her mouth had gone dry, and her words came out in a squeak. She looked quickly down at the questionnaire again.
“Moving on—do you snore?” she said trying to sound normal.
“No,” Kaelus said at once.
Clair frowned.
“How do you know?”
He shrugged.
“I would have been informed.”
“By who?” she demanded, feeling a stab of something like jealousy. Had he been sleeping with someone? Some single girl from Earth who had come up to the Mother Ship to try and catch a Kindred husband?
Kaelus frowned.
“That is irrelevant.”
“It’s relevant to me!” Clair exclaimed. “I’m supposed to be your wife, you know. If you’re sleeping with someone else…”
He shook his head.
“No. There is no one else—I sleep alone. There is no significant woman in my life…except for you.”
“Oh, right. Of course.” Clair felt her cheeks get hot for a moment, but she pushed the emotion away. “So you don’t have any idea if you snore or not.”
He frowned.
“I do not snore.”
“You might,” she pointed out.
“No, I don’t. And neither do you.”
Clair looked up.
“How do you know?”
“I have heard you sleeping.”
“When?”
“In the laboratory.”
“Oh.” Clair felt her cheeks getting hot again with a blush. “Right.”
“You make a faint sound when you are deeply asleep, but it is not snoring,” Kaelus continued.
“What? What kind of sound?” Clair demanded.
His expression changed subtly—almost softened.
“A soft one. Very low and gentle.”
Clair suddenly didn't want to know any more about that.
“All right,” she said, rapidly scrolling down the list. “What do I do when I'm nervous?”
“You speak more quickly,” he said promptly.
She looked at him.
“What?”
“And your accent becomes stronger,” Kaelus continued. “You also make jokes when you are uncomfortable, and you touch your hair frequently.”
Clair's hand, which had been halfway to her curls, stopped in midair.
“You’re very observant,” she muttered.
“Of you? Yes.”
She put a hand on her hip.
“All right then, smarty-pants. What do you do when you're angry?”
He lifted his chin.
“I remain rational.”
Clair burst out laughing.
Kaelus glared at her.
“What?” he demanded.
“You do not remain rational. You growl,” she said. “You glare. You stomp around the laboratory looking like you want to murder somebody, and then you make a new rule.”
He gave her a look of wounded dignity.
“I do not stomp.”
“You absolutely do stomp,” Clair said, still laughing.
“I walk,” he corrected her.
“Loudly.”
Kaelus frowned.
“I can’t help how loudly I walk—I am large.”
“And grumpy,” she pointed out.
He shot her a glare.
“You are becoming irritating again.”
“There he is—my grumpy, growling lab partner is back.” Clair smiled. “I was worried I'd lost him.”
She tapped the next question.
“What's something I do that drives you crazy?”
Kaelus blew out a breath of frustration.
“Everything.”
Clair put a hand on her hip and gave him a level look.
“Very funny.”
He shrugged.
“I was not attempting humor.”
“Come on. Pick one thing,” she urged. “If we go to Titus Four and you tell them every little thing your wife does drives you crazy, they aren’t going to believe we’re a couple. Or else, they’ll think we need couples counseling.”
Kaelus was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said,
“Your scent.”
She looked at him in surprise.
“My scent?”
He frowned.
“Yes. You told me to choose one thing about you that drives me to distraction—I choose your scent.”
Clair shook her head.
“But…I don't wear any perfume,” she pointed out.
Kaelus nodded.
“I am aware of that.”
There was something in his voice that made Clair's stomach tighten, though she didn’t know why.
“Then what are you talking about?” she demanded. “You’re not saying I stink, are you?”
“Of course not.” He shook his head. “I’m talking about your natural scent—it is most…distracting. So much so that sometimes I have a difficult time getting work done around you.”
Clair remembered the molecular solvent accident.
She remembered him kneeling in front of her, his large hands holding her hips while he slowly inhaled along her bare skin to make certain none of the dangerous chemical remained.
She remembered how hoarse his voice had been when he realized she was safe.
She also remembered his refusal to let her enter his suite because, according to him, her scent would be left behind and he wouldn't be able to concentrate.
“Oh,” she said softly. “You like my scent.”
“Yes,” he said shortly. “Though perhaps ‘like’ is too weak a word. I find your scent enticing…almost addictive. Even though it distracts me when I’m trying to work, I find I miss it when you are not near.”
“Well, that’s…very revealing of you to admit that,” Clair said, not certain what else to say.
She’d had no idea her grumpy lab partner was addicted to her scent.
She didn’t even think she smelled that wonderful—but maybe she couldn’t tell since she didn’t have a nose that was twice as sensitive as a bloodhound’s, like Kaelus did.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds. Then, Clair finally looked back down at her tablet.
“Well, apparently I'm just one big walking distraction,” she murmured.
“You are,” Kaelus said at once. “With your gorgeous full curves and your enticing scent—I find it very difficult to concentrate around you.”
There was no irritation in his voice, this time—just honesty.
Clair swallowed and felt herself blushing again. She’d had no idea she was such a distraction to her lab partner. Did he really feel that way about her? She’d never had a man say they could barely concentrate around her before. Her ex certainly never would have said such a thing.
“Next question,” she said, determined to push on. “What's something you like about me? And don’t say my scent or my curves again,” she added quickly. “I’m talking about something else—something non-physical.”
Kaelus frowned.
“This is unnecessary.”
Clair shot him a look.
“It absolutely is not. If somebody asks you what you love about your mate and you stand there staring at them like they've asked you to derive a mathematical equation, we're going to be in trouble.”
He frowned.
“If I am not allowed to mention your scent or your curves, I could invent something, I suppose.”
Clair blew out a breath.
“Fine. Invent something.”
He was silent again.
Clair waited…and waited…and waited. Finally, she started getting irritated. Was it really that difficult for him to think of anything about her that was pleasant?
“Kaelus?” she prodded.
“You are intelligent,” he said finally.
Clair was surprised at the compliment, but he wasn’t done yet.
“You are also extremely curious,” he continued. “You approach new discoveries with enthusiasm rather than caution, which I find maddening at times, but it has also allowed you to see possibilities I might have dismissed.”
Clair stared at him. Was he really saying all this? It didn’t sound like he was “inventing” anything. It sounded like he really thought these things about her. And still he wasn’t done.
“You are kind,” Kaelus went on, keeping his gaze fixed on the navigation display.
“You attempt to make others comfortable even when you are uncomfortable yourself. You frequently pretend not to notice when someone is embarrassed in order to preserve their dignity. You talk too much, you leave objects everywhere, and your organizational system is incomprehensible, but you are generous with your time and your knowledge. And when you become excited about your work, your entire face changes.”
Clair didn't know what to say. She had expected some sarcastic answer like she made good coffee or that at least she hadn't destroyed any of his equipment lately.
But she hadn’t expected the outpouring she’d just gotten from the big Hybrid.
“Wow,” she murmured at last.
Kaelus looked at her.
“You asked.”
Clair nodded.
“I guess I did.”
She looked down at the tablet because suddenly meeting his eyes was difficult.
“My turn, I guess. To say what I like about you.”
Kaelus shook his head.
“You do not need to answer.”
She frowned.
“Yes, I do. Fair is fair.” But what was she going to say?
She thought about making a joke—it would have been easy. She could have said she liked that he could reach things on high shelves or that he made a very effective emergency ladder.
Instead, she found herself telling the truth.
“I like that you take care of people even when you pretend you don't,” she said.
Kaelus's expression changed but Clair continued before she could lose her nerve.
“You act like I'm a terrible nuisance, but you always catch me if I fall.
You feed me when I forget to eat. You moved everything I need down where I could reach it even though you tried to pretend you were just reorganizing the shelves.
You stayed with me after the solvent accident because you were worried about me, and you put your own hand in front of that plant so I wouldn't get hurt.”
“Clair—” he began.
“And you respect my work,” she continued. “You don't always agree with me, and God knows you like telling me when you think I'm wrong. But you take what I do seriously. That means more to me than you probably know.”
Kaelus looked at her for so long that Clair felt her cheeks heating.
Finally he turned away.
“That should be sufficient for the questionnaire,” he said gruffly.
Clair smiled.
“Not even close, big fella. We still have some territory to cover.”
He groaned.
“There is more?”
She laughed and scrolled farther down.
“Always. All right now—pet names.”
He got a mulish expression on his face.
“No.”
“Kaelus…”
“No.” He frowned fiercely at her. “You know my feelings about ‘nicknames.’”
“Real couples use pet names all the time,” Clair pointed out. “My daddy called my mama “darling” and she called him “honey bear” their whole lives.”
His frown deepened.
“That’s nice for your parents but you already call me enough ridiculous things to supply an entire planet.”
Clair laughed.
“Sugar-booger is a classic.”
He grimaced.
“It is an abomination.”
“Honey-bun?”
“No.”
“Sweet cheeks?”