Page 97 of Nanny for the Cowboy

Because you’re a moron, and everything sucks.

“See, this is precisely why I didn’t want to think about this shit,” I mumble to myself, trekking up the stairs toward my bathroom.

Moving on autopilot, I haul myself up into the master bath and strip down. I’m gross, and a shower is mandatory before I do anything else. I toss the clothes in the hamper and then pad over to the shower.

I reach inside the shower to get it going and make sure I have a towel ready for when I get out. When the water is warm enough, I step inside. As soon as the shower spray hits me, I sigh with relief.

“Ugh, there we go.”

Scrubbing up, I get all the dust and grime and grit and dirt off my skin, leaving nothing but that “zestfully clean” feeling from the Irish Spring soap.

My mind tries to circle back to less pleasant thoughts, but I push them away as I quickly wash my hair. Clean from top to bottom, I turn off the water and step out, wrapping a towel around my hips.

There’s a small towel by the sink for my hair, and I squeeze the fabric around the locks to squish out the water. From there, I have to get dressed and head back downstairs. Darby will be needing dinner, and I have to…manage myself around Clover.

When I get downstairs, though, I can’t find either of them in the kitchen. Swinging through the dining room and then living room, I don’t see them there either.

“Where are they?” Confusion spikes, but I’m sure it’s nothing. “Darby! Clover!”

There’s no answer, even after I call out a few times.Okay, now I’m nervous.

I’m tearing through the house in seconds, going to every damn room in search of them. Nothing in the kitchen again, nothing in my home office, and nothing in the downstairs bathroom.

Dashing over to the other side of the house, I check Clover’s room, but nothing—again.

“Dammit.” I feel the tension ratchet up my spine as the worry surges higher. “Clover! Darby! This isn’t funny!”

I hurry upstairs, checking the laundry room, the other spare bedroom, and my room for some dumb reason. They aren’t in any of them. That’s when it hits me to go check Darby’s room.

Because, again, I’m an idiot.

When I get there, I immediately feel a cool breeze on my skin. Darby’s window is open, and the air is rushing over my sweaty skin.

So much for that shower.

I run up to the window, looking out with my hands on the ledge. Something crunches beneath my fingers.

Glancing down, I see it’s a piece of paper.

“Come up?” I shake my head, my brow furrowing. “What the hell does that mean?”

As I stare out the window again, I see the edge of the roof. Darby likes to climb out there. I’ve told him not to, but…

“Darby!” I push myself through the window, climbing onto the roof. “Are you out here?”

Stepping further up past the lip of the roof that covers Darby’s window, I see them. Clover and my daredevil of a kid are sitting on a picnic blanket—complete with a basket full of food—smiling over at me.

“What is all this?” I’m taken aback, but I glare slightly at Darby. “You know it’s dangerous out here.”

Darby’s eyes go immediately to pleading, and he raises his brows as his grin works harder.

“It’s okay. I swear! We’re having a picnic!” He points down at the basket and then out toward the sky. “We can watch the stars come out!”

My head is spinning as I look from Darby to Clover. She smiles at me, this genuine, apologetic smile, and shrugs one shoulder.

“It’ll be nice, right? Some good food under the stars? You deserve a break, Brooks.”

All the worry and frustration melt away. I’m warmed through to my spine, and as much as I want to scold my son for climbing out here, I can’t.

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