Page 26 of Nanny for the Cowboy

And I don’t know if it was bad or good luck that I ran into Clover when I did.

TEN

Clover

“Two seconds left on the clock. Will Lowe succumb to the pressure or nail this crucial penalty shot?”

I watch as Darby lines himself up in front of me. The soccer ball—which is more tan and black instead of white and black—is positioned right where he wants it.

He steps back, looking between the ball and me as I stand in front of a makeshift goal. I’m dripping sweat, which is a lovely sensation when it’s reaching down your ass crack, and this is the end of an intense match between us.

At once, Darby rushes forward and kicks the ball with everything he has. It soars up and to my right. I jump, trying to catch the ball, but it soars over and past me.

“Yes!”

I roll through the leap, careful not to truly injure myself, and Darby hoots and hollers about his fresh victory wrestled from the jaws of defeat, which was actually a tie.

All I can do is laugh as he cheers for himself, running little circles around the yard. I’m sitting on the grass, catching my breath a bit, when I see Brooks’s truck coming down the drive.

He’s back from getting groceries, and it’ll be on Darby and me to help him unload. All morning, I’ve been throwing myself into playing with the resident champ here in hopes that it’ll distract me from what happened the other night.

It’s been working okay, at least for a few minutes at a time. Still, it’s hard as hell to stop picturing the lethal weapon I saw Brooks toting around, thanks to that towel drop.

Men around the world would bow in respect if they saw that.

Which, of course, is annoying as hell. Not only does the guy have to be some cowboy heartthrob, but he’s packing serious equipment that I can’t stop seeing when I close my eyes, wondering what it might feel like,tastelike…

Get your head out of the fucking gutter, Clover. He’s off-limits, remember?

But I’ve been trying to remind myself of that since day one, and my track record isn’t great.

Brooks steps out of the truck, and Darby and I hurry over to help unload bags from the back. We help him carry the stuff inside, setting everything down on the kitchen counter.

The A/C in the house feels amazing compared to outside, and I wipe my brow with the back of my hand. Unfortunately, it serves as a rather potent clue that my deodorant has stopped working.

Great.

“Alright, thanks, buddy. You can head upstairs if you want.”

Darby leaps at the chance for his nightly screen time with his video game friends and runs up the stairs like a bat out of hell. I laugh to myself, shaking my head as I put the last of the cold items in the fridge.

“I can’t believe it’s already almost five. That kid of yours has been kicking my ass up and down the soccer field.”

I also can’t believe that we’re approaching two weeks of my being here or that it’s been nearly seven days since I saw Brooks naked.

Stop thinking about it!

“Ha,” Brooks laughs, folding up the paper bags and stuffing them in the pantry so that we can use them for recycling, “he’ll do that alright. Soccer is one of his favorites.”

“I’m noticing that.”

I don’t know what it is, but suddenly, alone in the kitchen with Brooks, I want to ask him about my time here, about whathe’snoticed. It’s been two weeks. He’s got to think better about my skills now…right?

“So,” I drawl, taking a moment to sit down at the island and meet Brooks’s eyes, “it’s been a while since I started helping out. How am I doing?”

Brooks smirks slightly, the left side of his mouth lifting as he leans back against the counter near the sink.

“Doing with?”

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