15. Clover
FIFTEEN
Clover
As far as ceilings go, the one above me is only slightly more fascinating than those in hospital rooms. It’s white, of course, and thankfully not made of those little square tiles.
No, this one is dry-walled and smooth, finished like the walls around me. And I’ve been staring at it, unable to sleep for too long to count now.
It’s not that I’m not tired or that the bed is suddenly uncomfortable after weeks of sleeping in it. It’s not even a nightmare or insomnia.
Of all the things that could be keeping me awake, it’s excitement.
I’m still buzzing from the performance today, and I can’t stop smiling, which feels so fucking silly.
It’s been so long since I performed like that, and to have a crowd there actually applauding me was…exhilarating.
I didn’t realize how much I missed that.
When it was over, Rosie offered me the chance to perform at other venues and community events. I didn’t know what to say, but now I’m actually considering taking her up on it.
Who even am I? Wanting to put myself through all this again.
Hearing the audience in my head, I grin wider, closing my eyes and remembering what it felt like to be standing up there. I had no idea what song I was going to sing beforehand, so I went with the first one that popped into my head.
It’s one of my favorites, and Rosie had the karaoke track in the system.
The event replays in my mind, and I see Brooks standing at the front of the audience, his eyes holding onto me through the entire performance.
I didn’t expect him to be so invested in my singing. He was actually supportive, all for pushing me up onto that stage. He’s been a grump this whole time, and we spend most of the time bickering.
Having him look at me like that…my mind goes back to the almost-kiss, and my heart flutters.
Seriously, what is happening between us?
The memory of his breath on my skin hits hard. I can almost feel him right here with me, his touch on my cheek too brief.
My cheeks flush, the heat crawling through my skin as I remember the vision of him shirtless and sweaty, working on that damn table. There’s chemistry between us, and as much as I want to—need to—I can’t deny it.
Brooks.
Ghosting my fingers over my lips, I imagine him poised to kiss me. Suddenly, my pulse is racing, and I squeeze my thighs together as I think of the dreams I’ve had about him.
They’ve been far from PG, and while in the beginning, it was more akin to a hate-fuck fantasy, there’s something else now…a connection.
He drives me mad, it’s true, but Brooks also…intrigues me. He’s this little puzzle that I have to figure out. And there’s also the fact that he’s gorgeous.
Without really thinking about it, I roll onto my back, sliding one knee up the mattress so that my legs are spread. It’s too damn hot—a constant in the sweltering inferno of Red Lodge during the summer—but I won’t take off the blanket.
If I stay under, I don’t have to face what I’m doing. I won’t have to admit that I’m going to touch myself…because I’m fantasizing about my boss again .
Not only that, but your dad’s best friend.
I shake the thought from my mind, running my hand down the plane of my stomach until I reach the loose hem of my night shorts. I can just push them aside, and because some part of me was thinking about this all night, I’m not even wearing panties.
My slit is already slippery when I brush a finger over it, imagining my hand is Brooks’s. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I can’t stop.
This is the third time I’ve done this before I fall asleep. Third . And I can’t stop.
Seeing him in my mind, I tease myself, circling around my seam, whispering touches over my clit. I know Brooks would do this to me. I just know . Between the bickering, the back and forth we always have going, there’s no way he wouldn’t make me earn everything he gave me.
Dammit. Clover, oh God. You’re so naughty.
I imagine it’s Brooks saying it, but I mean it, too. I know this isn’t what I should be doing. There is so much that makes the two of us an ill-fated pair, but I just…I need to indulge for a moment.
Finally slipping past the exterior, I dip a finger inside, swirling it around and then paying attention to my clit. My nerves sing, and I picture Brooks, his fingers, his hands, his tongue…God, what could that man do to me?
I’m not usually the cowboy type. I’m not usually the older guy type. But Brooks breaks all the rules, and I lose myself to the thought of him claiming my body in ways that it has sorely missed.
Something tells me that he’d surpass them all.
The tension in my spine rachets up, that tingly feeling in my nerves singing. I chase my release, adding another finger, then focusing on my clit.
I’m close, so close, and all I’m thinking about is how much I want this to be Brooks, even though I know that’s impossible.
So, I’ll enjoy this. My private little fantasy that’s only for me as I lay alone in the bed. No one has to know, after all. This is just for me—a release that won’t precipitate action.
“Oh, God…Brooks…” I’m right there, just a little longer, and I’ll?—
Knock, knock, knock.
I jump up in bed, yanking my hand back enough to wack the lamp on my nightstand, making my knuckles sting.
What the hell? Why? Who’s?—
“Clover? It’s Brooks.” His voice is a whisper but loud enough that if I was awake—which I am—I’d hear him. “Are you up?”
The pounding fury of my heartbeat actually hurts , and I suck in so many fucking breaths before I’m able to answer, clearing my throat as I do.
“Umm, yeah, h-hold on.”
Scrambling to the bathroom, I wash off my hands, then hurry back to the bed and throw the blanket over myself. The door is unlocked, a fucking mistake I didn’t mean to make earlier, but I think I’m about as composed as I’m going to get right now.
“Come in.”
Brooks pushes the door open, and I notice right away that he sort of lets it fall into the room and doesn’t step past the threshold. He seems off somehow, and I narrow my eyes as he stands there without saying a word for a minute.
“Did you…need something?” I raise my brows, clutching the blanket and being all too aware of the fact that I’m still not wearing underwear beneath these shorts.
“Umm…” Brooks scans over the room with his deep hazel eyes, and I follow them, wondering what even brought him here when we’re all supposed to be sleeping. “…I just wanted to say that umm…”
This is the most tongue-tied I’ve seen Brooks, and it makes me itchy. I don’t like it. It’s weird, as if he knows something or sees something, and it’s preventing him from saying what’s actually on his mind.
“What?” I shake my head forward, leaning up off my pillow as I sit criss-cross, my legs folded beneath the covers.
“You did good today, Lucky.” He smiles, the awkward air around him finally breaking. “I was really impressed.”
“Oh.” Surprise hits me, and I perk up, grinning as I relax a hair. “Well, thank you. I really didn’t want to do that, but I guess I’m glad you convinced me.”
“Oh, so now you’re realizing that you should listen to me? Think that’ll apply to how you do your chores? Or am I still going to be picking up eggshells because you stack ‘em too high?”
Glaring playfully, I narrow my eyes at Brooks. I pull my knees up to my chest, forgetting about the blanket in favor of shielding myself with my legs out of habit.
“I do not. Jerk. The egg thing was because chickens are assholes.”
Brooks laughs with a burst of energy as he leans against the door jam with his arms crossed. “Well, you’re not wrong about that.”
He stands there, and I look at his cast for a minute. It only goes up to his elbow, and I notice that the bicep it’s not covering still seems as strong as the other one.
Brooks hasn’t been taking it easy like he’s supposed to. Stubborn rancher .
“You know, you haven’t been listening to the doctor. You already lost the bet with my dad. Do you really want to be in that cast for another week?”
With a low chuckle, Brooks straightens up. I’m not sure what he’s doing when he reaches up to the top of the door frame with both hands. Gripping the ledge, he leans into it, and his t-shirt lifts slightly.
I can see the dark dusting of hair at the top of his pajama pants, and I force myself to swallow.
“Worried about me, Lucky?” He holds my stare—all fire and challenge—so I shake my head. “’Cuz I’m just fine.”
“No.” I sound so dumb, like some teenager saying she doesn’t have a crush on a cute boy. “I am not worried about some obstinate farmer who refuses to listen to a professional.”
“Mm-hm,” he drawls, still hanging on that door in a way that makes the plane of his stomach stretch, his abs still peeking at me, “sure. Just like you’re not a good singer who loves to perform.”
But now I’m the one grinning. “Really liked my song, didn’t you?”
“It was alright for a city girl’s pick.” He barely smiles, his eyes narrowing. “By the way, you okay there? You seem…pretty flushed.”
Heat roars through me at the very correct observation, and I’m sure that my cheeks flare even brighter. I snap my legs back down under the covers and draw them up to my chest.
“I was in the middle of a nightmare when you decided to knock on my door, Ace .”
The smile Brooks unleashes is devastatingly charming, and my thighs clench. “Oh, really? Should I eke out a tune or fetch ya some water?”
Rolling my eyes, I chew on the inside of my lip. “I’ll be just fine. You’re more than welcome to go back to bed.”
We stare at each other for a while, neither of us wanting to be the first to break. It certainly takes two to tango, and this dance is like a game of chicken where both people are committed to being the last to flinch.
“Suppose I should.” Brooks offers, pushing himself off the door frame to settle back down on his heels. “Have a good night, Clover. And…”
He drops his stare to the floor before it hits me again, and the look there is enough to have me right on the edge of that orgasm again.
“Sweet dreams.”