Page 20 of Crushing Clover

“Where are you going?” I asked, worried, as I caught Lucky by the front door.

He shoved his wallet in his back pocket and twirled his keyring around his finger. “I’m going to visit my parents. Don’t worry. Rush will be here to keep you company.”

I looked at Rush, who rose from the couch and shook his head. “I have to run some errands, so I’m right behind you.” He grabbed his wallet and keys out of the bowl, too.

“We can’t leave her alone with Saint. That’s cruel. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

Rush laughed along with him. Comedians—the pair of them.

“She’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you think,” I grumbled, even more glad that Saint’s decree that I had to be naked in the house had been retracted after about two hours of uninterrupted ogling and a couple of stubbed toes. Apparently, I’d been too much of a distraction.

They ignored me as they good-naturedly debated about whose slides were whose. It didn’t help that both pairs were plain black and the same size.

“You sure you don’t want to trade places? I’ll go for lunch with Willa and Shawn, and you can run my errands,” Rush offered.

“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 the Twisted 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 than one. 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.

He regarded me with such ennui, I felt suitably embarrassed for attempting to joke around with him. “It’s a mystery, but I’m on page thirty-five and I’ve already sorted out the ending.”

“Not much of a mystery, then. Maybe there’ll be a twist you don’t see coming,” I said conversationally, having no investment in whether he enjoyed the book or not. He didn’t give the impression he enjoyed much in life.

“I doubt it, but I’m still reading because at least the prose is good.”

“I’m surprised you read fiction.”

“Why?” He grabbed his T-shirt by the back of the collar and yanked it off.

I’d seen him naked several times—hell, I’d watched him fucking—but his leanly muscled body was a work of art and hard to look away from.

“Because you seem to take yourself far too seriously to read anything except non-fiction.”

He caught me looking at him, and his mouth curved in a sardonic smile, as though he pitied me for admiring him. I prized away my gaze, wishing I’d gouged out my eyes rather than staring.

“Everyone needs some escapism in their life. For me, fiction is better than weed.” He stretched, and I managed to keep my eyes averted. “Don’t tell me you’re some kind of literary snob,” he said, jumping into the pool before I had a chance to answer him.

“Hardly,” I said when he resurfaced. “I like genre fiction. Romance, fantasy, mystery. I’ve even read the occasional western if that was all I had access to.”

He swept his messy black hair from his eyes. “Nice to know our little pet isn’t snobby.”

“I’ve never been in the position to be a snob about anything.”

“You weren’t born into a rich family? I’m shocked. Your table manners would suggest otherwise.” His tone was so dry it was probably lowering the water level in the pool.

“How would you know anything about my table matters? You don’t even let me use utensils.”

“A man does what he must to keep his family safe from the interloper we had foisted upon us.”

“Foisted?” I laughed. “I’m supposed to be here for your convenience, and you act like I’m the world’s biggest nuisance.”

“You are the world’s biggest nuisance. Owning you is even more annoying than owning a dog. You’re lucky I don’t make you pee outside.”

“You’re even luckier than I am on that account, considering you have a pool instead of a lawn.”

“Yeah, make sure you don’t pee in our pool.”

I was about to say something funny to make him wonder if I was sneaking out here sometimes to do just that, but he began to swim laps, ignoring me entirely.

Even though it was still relatively early in the morning, at least for people on our schedule, the sun was delicious.

I wished we saw daylight more often, but the schedule was tight.

They never really seemed to take a day off, because even when it was technically a day off, they were still busy with work-related tasks.

I supposed that was all par for the course for people who owned a business.

Considering how much there was to do, I had no idea how someone could run a restaurant by themselves.

Saint continued to swim laps until I thoroughly baked in the sun, having been lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sound of his exacting strokes.

I woke with pinpricks of cold water hitting my skin. Was it raining? I opened my eyes to find Saint John looming over me, his hair dripping pool water.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

He scooped me into his arms, which were cold and damp. I arched away from him, and he glowered.

“Put me down!”

“Stop wiggling before I drop you.”

“I don’t like being carried!” I tried to smack him but I was tossed into the air.

I screeched with fear, then landed in cold, wet silence, stunned by the frigid water.

Somehow, I had held my breath as I hit the water and floated underwater for a moment.

I’d been shocked, but now that I was down here, it was kind of nice.

Saint John hit the water, disturbing my peace, and I was snatched away from the deep and pushed to the surface. I gasped in air, and cleared the water out of my eyes, only to find his dark glare studying my face.

“Fuck! I thought I killed you or something.”

“No such luck.” I patted his chest, which was disturbingly bare. I snatched back my hand. Normally, I would have expected someone throwing me in the water to be laughing at his own joke, but his face was humorless.

“You threw me into the pool. Why are you pissed at me?”

“You sleep too much. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me. I don’t get a lot of uninterrupted sleep.”

He towed me to the shallow end of the pool, where I was able to touch bottom. “We have to figure out who keeps waking you up so I can tear them a new one. Sneaking around like that goes against all the rules.”

“Maybe it really is a ghost.”

“I’m guessing it’s Lucky having trouble keeping his dick in his pants. He has a history.”

“Oh, and the other two of you were saints before I came along?”

“Saint John, remember?”

“Considering your personality, your parents must have named you ironically.”

Not bothering to respond, he started doing laps again. I headed for the edge of the pool, planning to get out, only to find myself being towed away from the deck.

“Swim. You’re not going to stay healthy if you spend all of your time tied to a couch, being fucked, or sleeping.”

“Look at you—suddenly caring about my well-being.”

“I don’t care about your well-being. I just have no idea how to dispose of a body.”

“You live a few blocks from the ocean. How hard can it be to get rid of someone?”

“Thanks for the tip.”

I swam back and forth a few times but didn’t have the kind of stamina or technique he did, and soon found myself getting tired.

“Weak!” he called after me as I boosted myself out of the water and onto the deck.