Page 75 of Crushing Clover

He grabbed his T-shirt. “Maybe not, but you’d better pray I don’t find that guy’s phone number written on you anywhere.” He seized my wrist and dragged me toward the truck, leaving all of his shit behind.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Nothing happened. You don’t need to freak out and ruin Lucky’s day.”

“Lucky and Rush are staying here. Your ass is coming home with me.”

“Well, can the rest of me stay? Please, Saint? It’s so pretty here.”

He stopped and glared at me. “If we stay, one of us is going to sit with you the whole time.”

“Okay.”

He shook the sand out of his T-shirt and jammed it over my head.

“Do I have to wear your T-shirt?”

“You’re getting sunburnt,” he muttered.

We walked back to our stuff, where I reclaimed my seat. I definitely wasn’t getting sunburned yet, but I got the message that he wanted the shirt to stay on. It smelled like him—like a combination of the products he used. If I was alone, I probably would have sniffed it, but I wouldn’t give the jerk the satisfaction.

He sat next to me on the blanket, almost in my lap, even though there was plenty of room.

“You’re being weird.”

“You’re a surfer’s wet fucking dream. I don’t know what we were thinking, bringing you here.”

I wrapped my fingers around my bell, and bit my lips together, knowing better than to laugh.

Chapter 17

“Why don’t you own a mop?” I asked, my hands pruned and knees sore.

“The floor doesn’t get clean enough with a mop.” Lucky’s voice, distracted, came from the other side of the room.

“How isn’t it clean enough?”

“It doesn’t get into the corners very well, and the mop head is dirty.”

“Not if you get the disposable ones.” I slopped too much water on the floor and wrung out my cloth.

“Too many chemicals.”

I kept washing.

“At least you guys don’t wear your shoes in the house,” I grumbled under my breath. If they did, the floor would resemble a sandbox in no time.

This time, he didn’t answer, and I peeked around the kitchen island to where he was sitting on the couch. Irritation simmered, but I had to remind myself that while they worked at the restaurant, I was usually chilling on the couch in the office. I’dgotten so bored, Lucky had set up a TV in the office, and hooked it up to his streaming services. Not only had I watched most of the shows I’d missed over the years, but I’d also gotten decent at crochet.

The old version of Clover never had time to do more than scroll through social media for five minutes before crashing, and I’d never had time to clean the house as thoroughly as I’d wanted to. Between me and the guys, this house was spotless.

“When I was washing the walls in here last week, I noticed the paint was pretty chipped, especially around the patio door. Do you think you could pick me up some paint?”

“I guess.”

A weird excitement filled me. “Can I pick the color?”

He shrugged, still scrolling on his phone. “I doubt anyone will care, as long as it’s not too weird.”

I finished the last patch of floor. “Can we go get paint now?” I rinsed out my rag for a final time and wrung it out. I’d washed this floor on my hands and knees enough times now that washing it had become almost meditative.

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