Page 12 of Nanny for the Cowboy

I’m yanked from my thoughts when he turns around enough to see me, and I jump like I’ve just touched the electric fence outside.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt. I saw you working on…what I’m guessing is a table. Got a little caught up in the process of it all.”

God, that was the worst lie.

Brooks cocks a brow at me, and I can feel his judgment land on my skin. After a moment, he clears his throat and steps backward, putting the in-progress table between us.

“So, whatcha working on?”

I’m trying to keep the mood light, but I can’t deny the fog of tension that makes the hot air between us all the more uncomfortable.

“It’s nothing. Just a project.”

His eyes go back down to the leg, and Brooks tries to smooth some of the ridges on it again with the sander thing.

“A project? That’s it?” I drop my head toward my shoulder, eyeing him. “Come on, you gotta give me more to go on than that.”

“I carve wood. It’s a hobby.” Brooks eyes me, a gleam of something making them glow. “Doesn’t everyone have a pastime?”

I shrug, approaching the table leg and inspecting the way it curves like an uneven hourglass.

“I mean, sure. Course they do. But I’m asking about yours. I’m going be hanging around for a while, so I figured I should know something about you.”

Heaving out a breath, Brooks sets down his tool and turns to me, a tiny smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.

“It’s a table, yeah. I’m having trouble finishing it with my arm in this cast.”

“Understandable.” I nod, turning down the corners of my mouth. “So what do you do with them once they’re finished? I don’t think this is the first time you’ve made something.”

Brooks drops his chin and narrows his stare. “Oh? Because I’m so good? Or are you trying to give me the benefit of the doubt?”

Unstoppable laughter bursts from me, and I cross my arms. “It’s very nice. Haven’t seen the rest of the table, but that’s one nice leg.”

Taking his shirt from his pants, Brooks flicks it open, and my heart sinks for a second when I think he’s going to put the thing back on.

Jesus, Clover. Snap out of it. We’re not going to be thinking this way. Not about the boss, who also happens to be your dad’s buddy.

“I put them inside. Most of the furniture in there was made by me, actually. ‘Cept the couches. And beds.”

“That’s impressive.” I smile, purposefully letting it show on my face. I want Brooks to lighten up around me and maybe consider taking that pole out of his ass.

“Thank you.”

As the silence comes in again, I watch as Brooks takes his shirt and, instead of putting it on, wipes his face with it, taking off his baseball cap and tossing it down to the workbench as he fluffs up his hair.

His hair is a deep brown, but there’s evidence of the sun on the ends and silver streaking near his temples. It’s not thick, but it’s enough to remind me that Brooksisolder than me.

When Brooks goes back to sanding, I decide the silence is over and ask what’s been on my mind since I met him.

“So,” I start, and I notice how he adjusts as I pull him out of his concentration, “why the lack of confidence in my skills? You weren’t exactly subtle about your…distastefor the situation.”

Brooks scoffs, which melts into a laugh as he puts the sander down and looks over at me again.

“Pretty blunt there, aren’t you?”

I shrug, offering a smirk. “I’m from New York. We’re not people who beat around the bush or mince words.”

“Apparently.”

---