18. Clover
EIGHTEEN
Clover
Sweat is dripping down between my ass cheeks. Dripping . I swear to everything on this damned earth, it should not be this hot when I have to be working this hard.
And it’s not like the antiperspirant deodorant can actually keep up with this weather. I could have the entire stick on me, and I have a feeling I’d still be melting like a mobster on trial.
“Ugh, fuck me.”
“Excuse me?”
Brooks’s voice booms from behind me, and I spin around so fast that the bag of feed I’m holding flings out a bunch of the stuff and hits Brooks in the face.
My free hand flies to my face as I see him standing there with a plate of lunch and spitting out feed that apparently landed in his mouth. The heavy bag flops onto my foot, and it immediately starts throbbing.
“Ow!” I yank my foot back, reaching for it, but Brooks holds up a hand, his eyes going wide as I bounce on one foot backward.
“Clover. Clover!”
Because, of course, what I don’t notice is the open barn door behind me. As I stumble backward, I walk right into it, the edge of the wood smacking right into my spine.
Foot aching, back on fire, I fling forward, and I’m suddenly in Brooks’s arms. The chaos and unlucky streak crash to a halt, and I stand there leaning on him as I catch my breath.
“You know,” he helps me back to my feet, guiding me over to a hay bale where he gets me to sit, “I think I’ve learned not to sneak up on you.”
I sigh, dropping my head as I sit on this pokey hay square that jabs me in the ass through my jeans.
“Here.”
Looking up, Brooks hands me the plate, and I see the sandwich on it—turkey with lettuce and tomatoes. I meet his stare, my chest swelling.
“You made me lunch?”
The corners of his mouth turn down, and he folds his arms over his chest, a different sight now that the cast is gone.
“When you didn’t come inside, I figured you might be hungry.”
“Oh no!”I jump to my feet, ready to set the plate down. “I totally forgot to come in and fix something for you and Darby. I’m so sorry. I’ll go in?—”
Brooks’s hands land on my shoulders, and he forces me back down. “Don’t worry about it. Just eat.”
“I…” The hay comes up to meet me, jabbing me in the ass again as Brooks insists that I take a load off. “Thank you.”
Settling into the bale, I rest the plate on my lap and pick up the sandwich. Taking a bite, I taste mustard, which I told him weeks ago I like better than mayo.
“You remembered.” I look over at where he’s decided to sit next to me on another hay bale.
Nodding, Brooks doesn’t say anything. I don’t know how he does it, but when he’s quiet like that it’s like I can hear his thoughts.
He doesn’t want to admit that he was paying attention.
He made me a sandwich…just…because.
Smiling, I take another bite, my stomach thrilled for the food. I definitely needed to eat and just got too wrapped up in what I was doing. The silence around us is too much, though, so I swallow and work to fill it with small talk.
“So, why a ranch? Why’d you want to do all this work?”
Brooks raises his brows as I disturb the silence, looking over at me like he half-expected me to just let it be quiet. As if.
“I inherited the ranch. I want to give it to Darby.” Brooks has a way of saying something that should be emotional with such utter monotone and deadpan that it’s hilarious. “I think my folks would like that.”
It’s been a few weeks since I arrived, and I’ve not heard Brooks talk about his parents much.
“Your parents? Are they around or…”
I let the question hang, not wanting to be insensitive, but Brooks shakes his head with a light chuckle.
“They’re alive. They live up north, closer to the mountains. They wanted to retire and not have to take care of the farm. They still come down to visit. You’ve just missed them because Dad got sick. He’s fine now.”
I relax, taking another bite of my sandwich, which I’m about halfway through. “Oh, well, good. I know what it’s like to miss parents. It’s been nice to have my dad so close. Or me so close, I guess. You get me.”
“I do.”
He nods, and there’s a flicker in his eyes when he agrees with me as if he really does understand something about me that I haven’t said. I stifle a slight shiver as a cool wind blows over us.
“So, it’s always been farm life, huh? No desire to check out a big city?” I look over at Brooks, and he makes that “Are you kidding?” face.
“Can you really see me in a city?” We eye each other before I laugh and shake my head. “Exactly. I’m meant for the quiet life. I’m good with my hands, with the animals. More importantly, I like it. In fact, I love it.”
As I finish chewing another bite, I pull out the piece of paper towel Brooks gave me as a napkin from under the plate. Wiping my mouth, I think about what I miss most about the city.
Weirdly, there isn’t much. Just my job.
“I guess I can understand that. But,” I look over at Brooks, running my stare up and down his body, “I still think it would be amazing to see you in a business suit.”
He laughs, rolling his eyes as he leans back against the barn wall behind him. “That’s a no. Unless it’s a funeral, no one is catching me dead in a suit.”
“Oh, come on. They’re not that bad. I mean, at least you don’t have to wear heels.”
Brooks looks down at my feet, currently clad in a pair of work boots I got from town a few days after I arrived.
“Last time I checked neither do you.”
Eyeing him, I drop my head to the side and fold my arms over my chest. “Yeah, you’d think. Unfortunately, there are some real…‘traditional’ folks still doing business. They get weird about women wearing pants, for fuck’s sake.”
Blurting out a laugh, Brooks looks down, shaking his head. “Traditional, huh? That’s one way to put it, I guess. Still, you don’t seem like the type of person to let that slide.”
I’m not sure why, but I’m really happy that Brooks thinks that about me. I try to put on that “I take no shit” vibe pretty often, but I’ll admit that it’s been difficult when I’ve been literally shoveling the stuff.
“Ha, well, I’m usually not. But sometimes you gotta make a client happy.” My mind flits back to Kyle, and I’m suddenly entirely done with my sandwich. “But whatever, right? You roll with the punches.”
Nodding, Brooks turns down the corners of his mouth again, and I hate that it looks so good on him.
“That you do.” He rubs absently over his recently freed arm. “Life can throw a lot at you, so yeah. You make the best of what you have. That I agree with.”
“Oh, well, don’t go letting that get out. What will people think if they know you’re siding with a city girl?”
He narrows his eyes at me playfully, that glare doing things to my insides. Abruptly, the memory of our near-kiss pushes forward into my mind from the recesses of my subconscious.
“Ha. You’re hilarious.” Brooks’s dry tone is accented by just a hint of his actual amusement.
“I have my moments, don’t I?” With a smile, I finish the last bite of my sandwich and then stand up. “Where are yours?”
Dropping the plate into Brooks’s lap, I smirk. I know I’m being a terrible tease, but I can’t help it. He’s just so fun to mess with. Pushing his buttons is one of my new favorite things.
Brooks stands up, clutching the plate in his left hand, the one now free of a cast, and I don’t know what it is about seeing him without it, but it’s that much harder to deny that he’s fucking gorgeous.
As he towers over me, facing me down with his intense stare, another whisk of wind rushes by, this one a bit colder. I shiver, goosebumps rippling over my skin. Brooks seems to notice.
Jesus, is it the wind? Or it is…dammit.
“You going to say ‘thank you’ now that you’ve finished your food? Or am I supposed to just take this plate inside without another word?”
My cheeks are burning, and my pulse is too noticeable in my chest and ears. “I said thank you earlier. Remember?”
“What if I want another one?”
Brooks looks at me from beneath his strong brow. His eyes are fire, the hazel depths swirling with electricity. The silver flecks at his temple catch the light, and the breeze ruffles his dark hair.
Clover. Clover, what are you doing? This is…this is umm…
“Earn it,” I don’t break the eye contact that blazes between us, my heart thoroughly lodged in my throat, “ Ace .”
Stepping closer, Brooks boxes me in with his superior height. Sure, I could back up, but I also can’t. I’m frozen in place, right fucking there.
“Those are fighting words, missy.”
Oh, God. Is this really going to happen? Is he going to ? —
Crack! A booming roar of thunder rips open the sky as lightning flares, and in less than a moment, rain starts pouring down from clouds I didn’t notice had turned gray.
“Ah, shit!” I put my arms over my head, which does nothing to keep me from getting drenched, running toward the house.
Lightning and thunder boom again, and I jump, nearly falling on my ass in the now slick grass.
“Clover!” Brooks shouts, rushing up to me and snagging me by the arm. “Come on.”
He pulls me under a massive tree, the one I’ve always stared at near the rear of the house. Beneath it, we can find some semblance of shelter before the rain dies down enough to make it inside.
I’m utterly soaked, my clothes sticking to me and creating an instant wet shirt contest. I roll my eyes at the thought, pulling the fabric of my shirt away from my stomach. When I let go, it snaps right back into place, though.
“Montana rain storms.” Brooks looks up to the clouds, his button-down shirt sticking to his skin, his shaggy hair dripping water. “They do tend to come out of nowhere.”
It’s wildly unfair that he manages to look even more charming. I’m shivering, and my hair hangs in my face in a messy curtain of wet-noodle curls.
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Spilled feed bag, spine meets door, nearly falling on my ass—twice—and now a storm. God, I’ll never live down how ridiculous I look, drenched from a freak downpour like some drowned rat. Still think that nickname you gave me is fitting?”
Glancing over at me, Brooks’s stare consumes me, running over me from head to toe before landing on my own, locking our eyes in together. The corner of his mouth lifts in an easy smile, and his entire vibe softens.
Turning toward me, he reaches out and tucks one of the wet strands of hair dangling in my face behind my ear. It’s a moment before he pulls his hand away, and I’m not sure if I want him to.
That smile of his doesn’t falter or fade, and he swipes his finger across the tip of my nose, whisking away the droplet of water clinging to my skin.
“That I do.” He nods gently. “ Lucky .”