Page 60 of Crushing Clover

“They’d probably be happier to see you than me, but I haven’t seen my dad in almost a week. If I’m not careful, he’s going to write me out of the will.”

“Still have your eye on his piece-of-shit fishing boat?”

“Have some respect. It mostly keeps the water on the outside.”

“Hey, no offense to theTwisted Knickers. You know I’d never trade your parents and your leaky inheritance for what Saint has.” They both laughed.

They were roughhousing affectionately as they went out the door. Through the glass, I watched as Rush grabbed hold of Lucky’s shirt and reeled him in for a kiss. They were still murmuring quietly to each other as I turned away.

Maybe I could keep busy with housework until they got back. Unfortunately, everything was gleaming from the cleaning I’d given the place when we’d gotten home from the restaurant last night.

“Is being stuck with me that bad?”

Startled, I whirled to face Saint, clutching my chest.

“Jesus!” I hadn’t even realized he was in the room. Sometimes, he was so still he blended in, as though he had the ability to turn partially invisible at will.

“Not Jesus—just your average sinner.” He flashed me a not-so-nice smile. “Go put on your bathing suit.”

“What?”

“Lucky did buy you a bathing suit, didn’t he?”

I shook my head. He sighed.

“Did you remind him we live near the beach, and we have a pool?” He sighed in disbelief. “You’re going to need more thanone. Tell him when he gets home. For now, put on a pair of his boardshorts and a T-shirt. We’re hanging out in the back for the next couple of hours until your keepers return.”

I nodded.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

Trying hard to hide my irritation, I smiled at him sweetly. “Yes, Saint.”

“Good girl. Now run along.”

Run along?

In a former life I would have been tempted to throttle the man, but both of us knew I was at his mercy.

I jogged up the stairs, aware he didn’t like to be kept waiting. He was already wearing boardshorts, so I had a suspicion my time to get ready was limited.

The pair of shorts I borrowed from Lucky’s drawer were ones I’d never seen him wear, so hopefully he wouldn’t mind that I’d borrowed them. I pulled on a bleach-stained T-shirt from a stack of old ones he never wore out of the house, and made my way back downstairs before Saint John decided to come looking for me.

He gestured to the patio doors, and I slipped out ahead of him.

“I could clean something while you relax. I don’t have to be out here bothering you.”

“No offense,” he drawled, obviously meaning every offense, “but I don’t think leaving you alone in the house is a good idea. For all I know, you’ll take off, or poison our food, or something.”

“Why would I do that? The three of you are the only thing keeping me safe. I’m completely dependent on your goodwill. The last thing I would want is to make you sick or bump you off.”

He held a book in his hand which he laid on a side table beside one of the chaises.

“What are you reading?”

“A novel.”

“Is it a romance?” I teased, assuming he’d be affronted.

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