Page 86 of Nanny for the Cowboy

A laugh bursts out of me, but I follow Brooks back to the table. I’m still shocked by all that, but he’s right. We should enjoy these drinks—and the night just like we planned.

“There’s my singer!” My dad smiles, gesturing at the chairs, and Brooks and I take our seats next to each other around the small table.

Dad is across from me with Darby next to him, so when I get comfortable in the chair, my knee brushes against Brooks’s. I just clear my throat, refocusing so that I’m entirely focused on the conversation.

It seems to be a futile attempt, however. I can’t stop thinking about how Brooks just stood up for me like that and how close to me he is, my body silently calling out for the person that makes it feel so good.

You got this, Clover. Just drink your beer and make the small talk. Come on.

It’s going…alright when Brooks’s hand lands on my thigh beneath the table. I snap my gaze to him quickly, but the asshole is just looking ahead, talking to my dad like nothing’s happening.

I have to force myself to not glare at him or to allow the shock to play on my face.

You jerk. You’re going to get me in trouble.

As discreetly as I can, I start to shoo Brooks’s hand away, but all that serves to do is give Brooks my hand, which he takes firmly, lacing his fingers through mine.

The heat of his palm warms mine, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the contact. But this is risky as hell! What does Brooks think he’s doing?

My cheeks are burning again, this “going behind someone’s back” thing is not a strong suit of mine. Still, I’m not exactly trying hard to take my hand back, now am I?

Nope, I’m squeezing Brooks right back, unable to let go for anything in the world.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just have our hands on the table?

The thought takes me a little by surprise, but who am I kidding? I’ve been thinking about a proper relationship with Brooks for a while now.

I can’t stop myself from wondering what it would be like if we were just…together, living on the farm, me and Brooks and Darby.

A happy little family.

“Admit it,” my dad’s voice cuts through my thoughts, “you liked that a bit more than managing business portfolios in New York.”

Trying to remain steady, I shrug a little with a smirk. “It wasn’t half bad.”

Because remember, Clover. You have a business back there. How are you supposed to pull the plug on that? Is that really what you want?

Confusion hits hard, familiar and annoying. When I sip my beer, it’s not fast enough to provide the mind-numbing buzz I’d like right now.

THIRTY-ONE

Brooks

Why am I doing this? This is so fucking stupid. I’ve been in there plenty of times. What is it about now that’s making me so?—

“Ugh,” I groan to myself, throwing my hands up before raking one through my hair.

Darby is in bed, thank God, and I’m still just standing out here, pacing in front of Clover’s door.

God, I’m pathetic.

And that’s the rub, isn’t it? Because I know precisely why I haven’t gone in yet. Nearly every part of me wants to go in that room and spend the night with Clover like I have been doing for the past few weeks, but…

This other tiny part of me realizes that this is more than what it was those few weeks ago. I’m not just wild with desire for her or intrigued by Clover’s attitude—feisty as it may be.

No, I’m also…falling in love with her.

“Which you’re not supposed to be doing. This wassupposedto be casual.”

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