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She doesn’t answer at first as she watches me. Then she seems to decide to let me stay. “Sure, you open the boxes.” She hands me the box cutter, careful to not let our hands touch. I open boxes and she takes out the inventory, setting it aside to be counted. “What made you decide to move home?”
Her question blindsides me, not because I don’t know the answer, but because she was curious enough to ask it. “I miss it here. Miss my family, the hometown feel.” You.” I leave the last part unsaid. She’s letting me stick around and I don’t want to spook her into kicking me out.
“You aren’t going to miss the famous baseball life?” She sounds casual but I hear an undercurrent.
“It got boring fast. All the partying, the fawning. I never knew if people liked me for me or if it was for the fame. I love baseball and I loved playing. The rest of it grew tiring.” I answer honestly, praying she can hear the sincerity in my voice. “When Dad told me he was having his surgery and asked if I would come home, it planted the seed in my mind. I had the contract sitting on my coffee table, ready to be signed but I couldn’t do it. Coming back home just solidified the decision.”
“I know your family has missed you. Your mom talks about you every time she comes in. I know it was because she’s so proud of you. Still is.”
“I’m sorry if it hurt when she did.”
Clover gives a small, sad smile. “How could I tell her to stop? A mother loves to talk about her son.”
“I’d like it a lot if you didn’t hate me.” I focus on opening the box in front of me, afraid if I look at her the desperation I’m feeling will be plain on my face.
“I don’t hate you, Sutton.” Her brows turn in. “I never have.”
“I don’t hate you, either.”
We fall into an easy rhythm, moving in tandem, until every box is finished. It reminds me of how we used to be, aware of each other’s movements, able to work without talking, relying on each other.
“Thank you for your help.” Clover walks out with me and then locks the door behind her.
“No problem.” Honestly I hate that it didn’t take longer.
She turns to walk to her car and I’m seized with panic that she won’t ever give me a second chance.
“Clover.”
She stops at the sound of her name and looks over her shoulder.
“Can we at least be friends?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
I watch her walk away again but I heard the indecision in her voice. I think I might actually be getting through to her.
Chapter Seven
Clover
Sutton’s mom told me he’d be at the O’Keefe place cleaning up the interior. I pull into the driveway and cut the engine. The house looks beautiful against the backdrop of the purple twilight sky and I can see why he bought it. The land surrounding it needs a little care since the O’Keefe’s moved over six months ago but I can see Sutton has started cleaning that up as well.
The lights are on inside so I walk straight in. Music is playing from the kitchen, 80s hairbands, and I smile when I hear Sutton’s off-key singing. He’s got a few pieces of furniture in the living room I recognize as one’s from his parent’s guesthouse. I move further in and stop in the doorway of the kitchen.
Sutton is wiping cabinets down, the t-shirt pulling across the muscles in his back as he moves. His ball cap is turned around, the bill covering brown of his hair.
“Sutton.” I call out over the music.
He spins around, his hard expression giving way to a sexy grin when he sees me. “Hang on.” He crosses the kitchen and presses pause on his phone. The music cuts off and leaves the house in silence. Through the open patio doors I hear the sounds of nature. The crickets, the croaks of frogs, the sound of a gentle breeze through the trees.
This can be my life if I let it. If I let go of everything from the past.
“Everything okay?” Sutton asks. He moves to stand in front of me, concern on his face.
My gaze roams over him. His skin is sweaty and he’s obviously been working hard. Why does that turn me on so much? I came out here to talk with him, to let him know that I’m willing to give him a chance, but suddenly the last thing I want to do is talk. I drop my purse on the floor and move closer to him.
Sutton watches my every movement, staying still as I stop close enough that I can feel the heat from his body. Placing a hand on his chest, I raise on my tiptoes and press my lips to his softly. When I pull away, his gaze has darkened.
