Page 85 of Nanny for the Cowboy

“You want me to get you a drink?” Brooks asks, and I look over at him, so damn grateful.

“Ugh, yes, please. That sounds amazing.”

“Go on, honey.” Dad pats my shoulder. “Go get your drink. We’ll be right here.”

I smile, always impressed by how well my dad can read me. He knows I need to step away and catch my breath after all this excitement.

“Thanks.” I turn to Brooks, gesturing at the bar. “Alright, sir, buy me some booze.”

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, leading the way. When we get to the bar, both of us leaning on the wooden edge, the bartender takes my order—just a beer and a water because my throat needs all the moisture after singing all night.

“Hahaha, that play at ‘country?’ Are you kidding me?”

My spine goes rigid, and I cast a glance behind Brooks, where two women are talking. If you could be the epitome of small-town royal, these two exude that in spades.

He doesn’t seem to hear them, or at least, he isn’t paying attention. But I am.

“I know, right? Like, come on. We see right through you, Ms. City Girl.”

The comment confirms my suspicions well enough, but it’s when they see me looking at them and quickly glance away that really does it.

They were talking about me.

My stomach goes sour, and when my beer and water are delivered, I don’t reach for them right away. Memories I’d rather keep buried flood to the surface, and with them, all the insecurities and self-consciousness from when I quit singing.

“Umm, you know,” I shake my head, looking up at Brooks, “I’m really tired. Do you think it’d be okay if we just went home? I know Darby has to get to bed, too.”

“What?” Brooks furrows his brow, regarding me. “We just got your drink.”

“I know, I’m just not, umm, feeling super well all of a sudden. It’s probably best if we leave.”

Cocking his head, Brooks sets the drinks down and faces me head-on. Lowering his head, he studies my face, and I’m utterly unable to hide how upset I am, tears brimming to the surface.

"Lucky, what’s going on?” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Did something happen?”

Every part of me wants to just brush this off. I should just go home and never think about performing again. But there’s something about the way that Brooks looks at me that has the words tumbling from my mouth.

“Umm,” I glance over his shoulder at the two women who are still whispering under their breath to each other, “I think they were talking about me. I feel really uncomfortable now, and?—”

Brooks spins around, noting the pair of “mean girls” in plaid. Without another word, he walks right up to them, and I’ve officially left this earth, my cheeks on fire.

“Did you two have something you wanted to say?” He addresses them, and the women’s eyes go wide.

“We didn’t—” One begins, but Brooks cuts her off.

“Didn’t mean to be overheard? Yeah, I had a feeling. If you have something you’d like to say about Clover, I encourage you to do it now.”

They stare up at him, totally silent. Both women can only manage eye contact for a few moments, reeking of guilt now that they’ve been caught.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing, though, and I can’t bring myself to move, just watching Brooks stand up to them.

“Yeah, you don’t want to say anything now that you’ve been called out, huh? It’s extremely disrespectful to make assumptions about Clover and knowingly talk trash about her when she’s in earshot. Keep your opinions to yourself, or I’ll have no problem ensuring you’re kicked out.”

Like dogs with their tails between their legs, the women turn on their heels and duck out of the bar in a hurry. When Brooks comes back over to me, I am utterly flabbergasted.

“I…you just…” I can’t find the words, and my cheeks burn as I stare up at him.

“Don’t mention it.” Brooks turns the corners of his mouth down. “It’s no problem. Now, let's enjoy these drinks.”

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