8. Brooks
EIGHT
Brooks
Brooks
The shed is back to being quiet no longer than five seconds before I see the truck pull into the driveway. Clover and Darby are back from town, and the gravel crunches beneath the tires, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
“Well, so much for finishing this damned leg.”
I sigh, setting down the sander and making sure to unplug it and stow it properly. I won’t have accidents with the tools or heavy farm equipment if I can help it.
Though, I do wish I could blame some rogue spark of electricity or some valiant rescue of a calf for my broken arm. The truth is, I only have myself to blame for it.
Like usual, I was trying to do too much at once, and when I was carrying one too many bags of feed up to the storage loft, I missed a rung on the ladder and spilled ass over tea kettle backward.
Landing that way on your arm is apparently a surefire way to break it. Stupid .
Once everything is cleaned up, I head back toward the house just in time to catch the door before it slams behind Darby.
When it doesn’t shut, my son stops, confused, but then turns around to see me and smiles.
“Dad!” He hurries over, wrapping his arms around my waist for a hug, and I grin. “We had so much fun!”
“Glad to hear it. And it looks like you got all the picnic stuff put away?” I look around the room, expecting to see an errant blanket or a bit of garbage that needs to go out.
“Clover made sure of it. Oh! Guess what I learned today!”
“Oh, come on. Can’t we just leave that a secret between you and me? And Rosie, I suppose.”
Clover comes in from the downstairs washroom, her skin flushed and a fresh bit of water clinging to the ends of her hair like she ran her wet hand through it.
“You met his history teacher?” I cock a brow, unsure how that would happen.
Clover looks over at me, and I immediately notice how the pink in her cheeks glows a hair brighter. Despite the cool air in the house, that flush isn’t going away.
What exactly happened out there?
“Oh, umm, yes. I did. We ran into each other in the park.” She looks over at Darby, nailing him with a bit of a knowing glare. “It’s not a big deal. Right?”
Darby pauses for a second, understanding what Clover is getting at. I study the interaction between them, tickled over this little conspiratorial exchange they’re having.
“Clover can sing!” He breaks eye contact with her and turns to me. “Really good, too!”
I can’t stop the bark of laughter that escapes. It’s not at all what I expected him to say, and I look back over at Clover, who is fully bright pink now.
God, that shouldn’t be so adorable.
“I’m sorry, what happened now?” I fold my arms over my chest casually, leaning back against the doorframe between the mud room and the kitchen.
Darby smiles, coming over toward the coat and shoe rack to deposit his sneakers. I see Clover’s tiny ones already there, and again, I can’t believe they’re nearly the same size as my son’s.
“It’s not a big deal. I just got pressured to sing a Disney song by a ten-year-old. We can totally drop it.”
And there I go, laughing again. It’s so strange. I haven’t done much of that since Leah left us. It wasn’t unheard of, but this is undoubtedly the most I’ve done so in a week. Hell, in a day.
“What song?” I ask, doing nothing to hide the smirk I’m wearing.
“Ugh,” Clover sighs, her shoulders drooping. It’s clear that she’s feeling pretty put on the spot, but the embarrassment looks good on her, almost as much as those skinny jeans she insists on wearing.
There’s a pause, however. I know that Clover is debating telling me, and for some goddamn dumb reason, I just have to know.
“I promise I won’t say a word.” I nod when she looks up at me and then cross my finger over my chest.
She chuckles. “A regular boy scout, aren’t ya? Oh, Lord. It was ‘Baby Mine.’”
I raise my brows, my mind reeling a bit. “The one from Dumbo ?”
Nodding, Clover rolls her eyes, releasing the breath she’s been holding. For a moment, I can’t move.
I know that song. I know that song because my own mother used to sing it to me. What are the damn odds?
But it’s not like I’m going to say anything. She doesn’t need all that. Not the nanny who’ll be out of here in no time.
“And I hear you’re pretty good according to this bum.” I nudge Darby with my elbow as he passes by me and stands near Clover, silently encouraging her.
“I guess. It’s not important.”
“Rosie asked her to perform in the community!”
My brows go up again, and I find myself nodding before I’ve really thought it through. Still, if she is going to be staying in Red Lodge for a while, Clover might want to try actually settling into the town some.
“Well, that’s something. Little lucky break. Good for you.”
Clover’s eyes snap to mine from staring at the floor. “Wait. You’re actually…encouraging me to do it?”
I shrug. “Why not? Our community events in Red Lodge are fantastic, so if you want to get back into singing while you’re here, there’s no better way to do it.”
Looking utterly shocked, Clover’s lips part, and she stands there speechless. I hate how my blood warms at the sight, parts of me wondering just how pretty that girl can sing.
What else about her secrets is just as lovely…
“I did love to sing. But…God,” Clover pushes her hand through her hair, the action making the strawberry waves fluff up and then slide back into place, looking like silk, “it’s been so long. I put all that on the back burner when it was time to buckle down for work.”
“Don’t exactly have work standing in your way right now, though, do ya?” I’m just as surprised by my words as Clover.
She gapes at me for a moment, and again, it’s Darby who pipes up and supplies more adamant hyping up.
“You would be so good! And it would be so cool to have like town royalty as my nanny!”
Clover and I laugh in unison, and then she’s rolling her eyes. “Darby, I’m not royalty. It’s just a singing gig, and I haven’t even said yes.”
“Well, you should think it over, Clover. Seriously.” I tip my head. “It’s not every day a lucky break comes your way. Be a shame to waste it, little shamrock.”
I hold her stare as she appraises me, and she rolls her eye at the impromptu nickname. We both know it fits, though, and Clover lets out a sigh.
It’s odd how much I actually want her to go for it. I have no reason to care. It should mean nothing to me, and yet, here I am, really wanting to see her put herself out there.
What are you doing, Brooks? Why do you care about this?
“Yes, I know. That’s what I told Rosie, too. I will. Scout’s honor.” She raises her hand with three fingers up, and I chuckle.
“You were a girl scout?”
“Hell no.” She shakes her head. “Can’t say I’m one for the sewing and merit badges. But speaking of, I should probably start dinner if we want to eat before eight. And if I’m going to handle food, I need to wash off this sweat. Hot as insert-choice-phrase-here seems to be the norm around here.”
“This?” I eye her, my brows going up. “This is nothing. Just wait till we hit the upper nineties, and it’s humid cuz a storm’s coming ‘round.”
“Gross. Alright, I’m showering.”
She turns on her heel, her supposedly sweaty hair still swinging through the air like it’s liquid and not solid. I watch her jog up the stairs, likely for a bit too long.
“You like her, don’t you?”
Yup, too long.
“Of course, I like her. She’s your nanny. Clover is a good caretaker, even if she can’t handle the ranch on an easy day.”
I lean in toward him, nudging him in the ribs to play up the joke. Hopefully, it’ll work.
“That’s not what I mean, Dad. You like like her. Like boyfriend-girlfriend.” Darby raises his brows at me, his little face carrying the expression of annoyance that I’m so obtuse—not that he would use that word.
“Son,” I put both my hands on his shoulders, casting a look down at him that’ll be sure to let him know this conversation is a no-go, “Clover is your nanny. That’s all . You know it’s not polite to poke into people’s personal lives, yeah? So, let’s keep that talk out of this house.”
Darby looks up at me, shaded with guilt. I feel bad for knocking him down like that. But the truth is I can’t have that conversation. Even if I did “like-like” Clover, that can’t happen.
She’s Leo’s daughter, several years my junior, and is currently working for me. The levels of forbidden are too deep for anyone to wade through.
Besides, I don’t. I don’t think about anyone that way. Too much baggage to tread those waters, and I ain’t look for another crushed ego and internal scars far worse than any broken arm.
“Sorry, Dad.” He hangs his head, and I pull it back up by the chin.
“You’re okay, bud. Just go wash up for dinner. You can help Clover with the cooking since you like that part.”
He perks up. “No shucking the stables?”
“Nah, I’ll take care of it this time. Go on.” I shoo him up the stairs, lingering there as I stare up into the second story.
I don’t like the woman. Hell, all we do is bicker. I’m just being nice. Can’t have her running back to Leo with complaints, after all. That’s it.
But I stare up the steps for too long, and I have to shake myself out of it so that I can go outside like I promised. As much as shoveling shit sounds like a grand ol’ time, I think it’s better than being in the house a moment longer.