7. Clover
SEVEN
Clover
Clover
“And I get Max and Dan to play with me when we can. It’s like work, though, to get us all online at the same time because Dad is like so strict about screen time.”
I smile as Darby pauses his stream of conversation to lick at his ice cream. If he talks for much longer, the thing is going to melt all over him.
“Well, your dad likes to be sure you’re getting your homework and chores done. He’s getting a little better about it, though. He let you play for a full hour last night.”
Darby nods, his tongue dragging up the side of his vanilla-chocolate twist, and he comes away with a fair amount all over his chin.
Laughing, I offer him a napkin from the picnic basket I brought to the park and then go back to laying on the large blanket we have sprawled out in the sun.
Hot as Satan’s taint was the choice phrase I heard at the store today, and as we lie here enjoying the afternoon, I have to admit that the lady at the register was right.
“I still don’t know why you guys are so obsessed with that game. It sounds boring to me. Don’t you just build stuff?”
“No!” Darby sounds truly offended by my reduction of Minecraft, and I giggle. “You can fight things and make factions too.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry to offend. I was always just more a fan of RPGs and puzzle games.”
Eyeing me, Darby squints, licking up his cone again. “You’re a Skyrim person, aren’t you?”
“Guilty.” I nod. “And Legend of Zelda.”
He sighs a little but does a poor job of hiding his grin. “Okay, well, those aren’t…terrible.”
“You forget, buddy. You let me borrow Skyrim the other day. I saw your logged hours, Mr. Twelve Fully Played Characters.”
Scoffing, Darby tries to play it off like he’s not that into it, that he’s the cool kid just like his friends, and I laugh, patting him on the knee.
“Buddy, I’m not going to tell anyone. Besides, someday, you’ll see that it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. It’s about doing what you enjoy, just for you.”
There’s a pause, and Darby finishes up his ice cream, using the napkin to mop up his hands and face the best he can.
“I know, Clover. I…it’s kind of hard being a kid. You know? There’s like this unspoken code and rules that you have to figure out and then obey. Or you’ll be some social freak or something.”
I look up into the clouds soaring overhead, offering a bit of shade that’ll last at max two minutes before the wind pushes them away.
“You’re not wrong, kiddo. You’re not.”
I feel the blanket next to me adjust as Darby lays down next to me, and we both let out long breaths as the warm weather tranquility smooths over us. The park is packed with others enjoying the same thing, and I only wish that Brooks could have come too.
“You’re really easy to talk to, Clover.”
Chuckling, I nudge my elbow into Darby’s arm. “Thanks. You’re not bad yourself.”
“I wish Dad could’ve come.”
“Me too, kiddo. Me too.”
We slip into easy silence, but I can’t stop my mind from churning. Ever since I ran into Brooks working in the shed, all shirtless and sweaty, I’ve been having…fantasies.
And that just has to stop.
He’s my dad’s best friend and out of my age range.
Brooks also happens to be one of the most stubborn assholes I’ve ever met. He is so uptight about what he thinks I can and can’t handle, and he’s been as approachable as a rattlesnake.
All we do when we’re around each other is bicker. Still, there’s something to that bickering. It’s playful and flirty. There’s a tension behind each encounter that’s just getting more intense with every interaction.
If it wasn’t like talking to a pole, he might actually be a hell of a prospect for some local country girl. A girl who is decidedly not me, but I’m just some city girl, and his mind is never going to change about that.
“So, what did you do when you were a kid?” Darby’s voice rocks me out of my thoughts. “I don’t think there were like video games, right?”
I shoot up onto my elbow. “Jeez! How old do you think I am?!”
He laughs, shrugging through his guilty expression. “Sorry! I don’t know!”
“There were plenty of video games twenty years ago, kid. So enough of that. Still…” I think about past me, that little girl who was in choir and plays and loved to perform so much that it was basically my entire personality. “…I liked to sing.”
“Really?” he says excitedly, popping up onto his elbow just like I did. “My mom used to sing to me before bed. At least that’s what Dad said. Also that he like sucks at singing and can’t do it because ‘he’d explode my eardrums.’”
I laugh, but the words leading up to that little nugget of insight into Brooks were less than cheery. I can’t help but wonder about Darby’s mom, and I want to ask about it, but how can I?
Darby is still just a kid, and it sounds like Brooks’s ex was gone long before he could remember her. That sounds a bit too painful to make the kid think about.
I also care about not overstepping my boundaries. I know that part of the reason I want to ask is to understand Brooks more and get some leverage on him, and I won’t use Darby that way.
Even if I am dying to know what she was like and if his dad is interested in dating now. Something I have to remind myself is a bad idea.
“Oh, well, umm…”I struggle to think about something to fill the conversation after that, and I panic, going with the first thing that jumps into my head. “I guess I could sing for you.”
“Oh, totally! Do it, do it!” He’s practically bouncing up and down, and my stomach twists.
“Right now?” My brows are at my hairline, and I can hear my pulse booming in my ears.
“Umm, duh. Yeah! I want to hear!”
“Darby, I meant like before bed or something. There are people around, and I?—”
“Come on, Clover.” He puts his hands up, pleading with me to sing, complete with puppy dog eyes. “ Please .”
The look on Darby’s face makes my entire body ache. He’s damn good at pulling a guilt trip.
Ugh, I haven’t sung in public since…oh God….
I sag into myself, sighing as I drop my head before meeting his stare again. “Fine, fine. I’ll sing.”
“Yes!”
The laugh escapes me even as my nerves fizz with nervous tension and a familiar excitement. I used to love to perform, but that dream had been thoroughly squashed back in the day.
I’m still a fairly gun-shy after all these years, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to sing. God, will I even sound good after all this time?
“What do I sing?”
Darby shrugs. “I don’t know. Just do something easy, something you know really well.”
God help me, but the first song I think of is a damned Disney tune, and I can’t believe that it’s the one my brain is convinced is a good idea.
Still, it’s simple, and I do know it by heart since it’s from one of my favorite movies.
“Umm, okay.”
And after clearing my throat way too many times, I slowly sing through “Baby Mine” from fucking Dumbo —because I’m a damn sap, that’s why.
I start a bit shaky, but as I keep singing, a familiar wave of exhilaration tumbles through me. I remember this feeling, the way it lit me up when I performed as a kid and through my teenage years.
It all dropped away so that I could focus on my career, and I forgot how much I enjoyed it.
I’ve really missed this.
Darby watches with a smile, and I pretend to soothe his tears like the mother elephant in the movie, getting just a tad choked up at the memory.
I’ve always wanted kids, but the time was never right, and I started to believe that it just wasn’t in the cards for me a long time ago.
Just like singing, my desire for a life outside of work just dried up, going to drought levels because of how much I neglect both.
The short song comes to a close, and Darby gives me a little applause. I can feel my cheeks heat from it, and as I’m trying to wave it all off and get him to pack up, a woman approaches us.
“I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear your singing.” The young woman looks about my age, and my stomach drops after realizing she was actually listening to me. “I’m Rosie, and I just wanted to say that you’re really good.”
My heart is buzzing behind my ribs, well past thumping and straight into frenzied hummingbird territory.
“Oh, that’s very nice of you. Umm, thanks.” I offer a hand to Rosie as Darby looks on with a silly grin on his face. “I’m Clover.”
She takes my hand, shaking, and then folds her arms across her chest. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”
“Oh, no. I just moved from New York City about a week ago. I’m nannying for Brooks Lowe.”
Rosie’s brows raise, and she nods her head. “Oh, I know Brooks. Ace is a fine man. Helps out whenever we need an extra set of hands, or hand as the case may be right now.”
She chuckles slightly, and I realize that between the grocery store, the post office, and the hardware store, everyone seems to know Brooks, and they all call him “Ace.”
“Hi, Ms. Jackson.” Darby finally speaks up from almost hiding behind me. “This is my nanny. I told you about her, yeah?”
“You did,” Rosie smiles as she responds. “Pleasure to meet you, Clover. I work at the school. I happen to be this little rascal’s history teacher.”
I start slightly, realizing that I’m talking to one of Darby’s teachers, and he’s apparently been talking about me at school.
“Oh! Hello. Yes, it’s a pleasure.” I nod again, helping Darby fold up the blanket to slip it into the bag. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your day. Little Rascal demanded that I sing for him.”
She waves her hand, smiling at both of us. “Nonsense. It was lunch and a show. And I meant it. You’re really quite good. You should consider performing at the community events.”
My jaw drops and it takes a moment before I can manage to speak. Even when I do eke out a few words, they’re a bit jumbled.
“I’m…what? I couldn’t. A community event?”
Rosie laughs lightly, the sound as pleasant as the sunny day. “Haha, yes. I have it on good authority that they need performers, especially singers. That authority is me. I help to run the events, and we are in short supply of good acts.”
“Oh, well. I?—”
“Do it, Clover!” Darby interjects, jumping up onto the balls of his feet and pulling on my arm, which nearly has me tipping over and spilling our bag out onto the grass.
“Darby,” I gently get him back down while I feel utterly pinned down by the two of them, “I’m not sure about that. It’s been ages since I performed. This was just a silly little tune for you.”
“Look,” Rosie steps forward, taking my hand and holding it between hers, “I know talent when I see it. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
I’m surrounded by puppy dog eyes and pleading gestures. They yank at my heartstrings, and even for only knowing Darby for a week, I can’t stand the idea of letting him down.
“Okay, okay. I’ll think about it.”
“Excellent.”
Rosie claps her hands together before digging in her oversized day bag. She pulls out a card, her information displayed on it as the town’s “events coordinator.”
“Take my card and text me. That way, we’ll have each other’s numbers. There’s not just singing, after all. I’d love to just get a coffee or something. Lord knows I need more friends my age ‘round these parts.”
Even though I feel put on the spot, I can’t help but smile. I think I’ve just made an actual friend in town, and who knows, maybe the singing will give me something to do when Brooks doesn’t need me on the ranch.
“Well, I need to get going. But I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” She smiles at me, then offers one to Darby. “I’ll see you on Monday, kiddo.”
He steps forward a hair and nods. “See you Monday, Ms. Jackson.”
As Rosie walks off, my spirit is undeniably lighter, and Darby sees no issue poking fun at my grin as we finish packing up. We’ve still got to carry all this stuff to the car, so I take the heavier bag and swing it over my shoulder.
When I do, the momentum swings me around slightly, and something glints from behind the bush directly across from me. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s almost like…glasses? Or sunglasses?
Something about seeing the two circular points of reflection doesn’t sit well with me. Neither does the way the bushes rustle for a moment, but as I study them to see what’s going on, Darby yanks on my sleeve.
“Huh? Sorry. I was,” I look over at the bush, seeing nothing else, “distracted. Let’s go.”
“And you say I’m the space cadet.” Darby chortles to himself, heading off toward where we parked the car.
Shrugging, I try to shake off the feeling of being watched, but my spine is still tight, the hairs on the back of my neck still standing on end.
“I said that once, Darby.” I make myself laugh, focusing on how much of a goon he is. “You remember everything.”
“That’s right!” He calls out, and I follow behind him, attempting to subtly track our surroundings.
Everyone is going about their business, and I don’t notice anyone paying too much attention to us. Still, that throw-down with Kyle is fresh in my mind, never far from my surface thoughts, and I can’t help but wonder.
Did Kyle somehow follow me all the way out to Red Lodge? No, no. That’s fucking ridiculous, Clover. Get it together .