Page 34 of Nanny for the Cowboy

“It’s not…I don’t talk about it, Clover.”

She leans forward on the workbench, bracing her hands by her knees as she meets my eyes.

“I’m not looking for the nitty gritty details, Brooks. Just an idea. Besides, I think it’ll be good for you to get some of that out of your head and off your shoulders.”

A sarcastic chuckle leaves me. “Oh, do you now?”

“I do.” She hits back with that so damned fast—confident and not backing down.

Part of me wants to lie to her, to make something up so that I don’t have to drag up all this pain. But as I look into Clover’s eyes, I just can’t.

There’s not a bone in my body that would allow me to lie to this woman—no matter what.

“Leah. Her name was, and I guess still is since she’s not dead or anything, Leah. We were engaged. The pregnancy slowed things down because she wanted to wait until after Darby was born to tie the knot.”

Clover is quiet, leaving me the space needed to talk about this, and I’m so fucking grateful.

“In the middle of the night, about two weeks after he was born, she left. I found a note that said she was in love with someone else. Haven’t seen her since.”

“Oh my God. Who would do that?” I finally manage to look up at her, and there isn’t pity written all over her face like I expected, but disgust. “What a bitch.”

A laugh sneaks free, and I can’t help but smile and shake my head at her. “Apt description.”

“I’m so sorry, Brooks. That’s garbage behavior. Honestly, to leave you and her son behind like it’s nothing. You’re so better off without her.”

“Well,” I shrug, my head tipping to the side as I consider that, “it wasn’t easy. Still isn’t. I…I needed to be everything for Darby. I’m his only parent here, and every bit of my focus and time is spent making sure he’s okay, provided for.

“I hate it sometimes. I wish that there was someone around to help, and I know you’re doing that now, but I’m not expecting a lifetime commitment from you.” I’m suddenly aware that I’m rambling, but the words are just leaking out of me like a broken sieve. “Being a good father to that boy means the world to me, and I’m never sure if I’m doing it right. No instruction manual comes with a baby. God, there were so many mistakes in thebeginning, but I didn’t want to trust anyone with him…with myself. I still don’t.”

I haven’t picked up the sander, and I nudge it off my foot. My arm inside the cast itches, and all I can smell is sawdust and Clover’s perfume.

“I haven’t given him the chance to have a mother in his life. It’s impossible to date with a fucking kid, and the truth is, I’ve never tried. I…can’t. Who would want all that baggage, and what’s to stop them from leaving? Nothing. I can’t do that to Darby. My broken heart is one thing, but him? No.”

“Brooks, I?—”

“Don’t okay. I know what this situation is. I’ve come to accept it. I know that as far as catches go, I’m at the bottom of the barrel. I’m…it’s fine. Like I said, I’m not looking to change that. It just gets…hard. And a broken fucking arm doesn’t help.”

I hear a shuffling again, and I look up from the table leg to see Clover hopping down from the workbench and walking over. She stands before me, those eyes of hers glowing a deep blue that still reminds me so much of a stormy sky.

Her expression isn’t schooled, the surprise and sympathy radiating out of her like the sun. I don’t know what to do with it.

“Brooks,” she holds up a hand when I go to interrupt again, “you’re not a bad father. You’re an excellent father. I’ve seen you around Darby for weeks now, and it is so abundantly clear that he means the world to you. And he knows, too.”

Rolling my eyes, I toss my head back to scoff. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. You’re a great dad. I have one, so I know the metric. You’re also not some unlovable bum who no one would want to date. Yes, you have a kid. I’m not going to lie and say that doesn’t complicate things, but that’s not a deal breaker for everyone. Some women would absolutely adore that part of you.”

“I’m not some project, Clover. I don’t want a woman interested in me because they think there’s this ‘life’ she can make for me. I enjoy my life.”

Clover puts her hand on her hip, eyeing me. “Did I say that? No. You need to stop thinking of yourself as less than worthy of a normal relationship just because of the past. That shit is holding you back. You’re a nice guy, Brooks Lowe. You’re kind to others, even me sometimes, and you’re devoted to family and community. Cut yourself some slack.”

All I can do is stare at her. Clover just…floors me. She’s looking up at me from her tiny stature and utterly putting me in my place, which is apparently not a bad one to be in.

A nice guy. It’s been a while since I’ve let anyone, especially a woman, compliment me.

Strawberry blonde curls catch the light as Clover stands there. Her blue eyes are fathoms deep, and I can see the subtle changes that’ve happened to her since her arrival.

The slick-backed ponytail is gone, replaced with a bouncy array of curls that she just has clipped back from her face. There are no more leggings or skinny black jeans unmarred by a day of work, only cut-off shorts, holey denim, and actual boots.

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