Page 37 of Rescued by the Single Dad

She set down the tablet.

Maybe it was best she didn’t dive too deep into social media just yet. She could do that later.

Talia sat back against the far arm of the couch, her pencil poised readily on the pad of paper. “Hit me with the hardest one first. I’m ready.”

The tightness around Brooke’s heart eased, and she smiled. “All right. Catastrophe.”

“Can you use it in a sentence?”

Clint stepped back into the house from the sliding doors leading out onto the patio. Brooke’s eyes found his. “Yes. If your father hadn’t saved me last night, it could have been a catastrophe, and I probably would have died.”

Talia’s brows bunched, then flew apart and up to her hairline as she stuck her tongue between her lips at one corner and scribbled down her answer. She glanced up at Brooke a moment later. “Next one. And this time make it hard. That was an easy one.”

Smiling at this cheeky, wonderful little human, Brooke scanned the list of words for a tough word, finding one even more difficult than catastrophe.

“I’m ready,” Talia said with an encouraging nod.

But Brooke had paused, her eyes focused on the word in front of her.

“You okay?” Talia probed, nudging Brooke’s knee with her toe. “I know they’re all C words. And I’ve seen the list. You’re not going to surprise me.”

Her little nudge was the lifeline that brought Brooke back to herself. She breathed with a slight startle and tipped her gaze up to a patiently waiting Talia, then her focus shifted to Clint.

She collected herself and returned to her quizzing duties with a poker face and, in a measured tone, uttered, “Conflicted.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Clint made his way down the stairs after tucking Talia into bed.

Brooke sat on the couch, her legs out long, the bandages covering her feet. She held the tablet, and her brows were knitted so tightly together it looked like they were trying to touch. “What has you making that face?” he asked, admiring the long, slender length of her legs. Even in his clothes, she was beautiful. And the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and earlier her nipples grew hard—it was impossible not to notice, and certainly impossible not to appreciate.

Yes, he’d seen her topless down on the beach, but that moment had been brief, and he really wasn’t thinking about the fact that Brooke Barker was naked. He was more concerned with the fact that he’d stumbled upon a lifeless naked body and he needed to not let the person die. So his memory of her breasts was blurry at best.

“Just reading through the social media posts about me. There’s a vigil being held tonight down by Pike Place in Seattle. And a few more in California. One right outside my house in Monterey, too. And one in some field here on the island.”

“That’s gotta be weird?”

“It is. Everyone but the handful of people here—and hopefully my brother—thinks I’m dead. Including the person who tried to kill me.”

“I’ve been thinking more about that, actually. I think your brother should get more involved. He should fly up here and start questioning the police, get information, and possibly feed it back to us. Can he afford the flight?”

Brooke nodded absentmindedly. “I know he doesn’t like it, but I make sure he wants for nothing. He gets paid so minimally for such an important job. I donate money to the sanctuary and send him money monthly. He won’t have a problem paying to fly here.”

“Once he establishes contact with you, get him to come up here and start hounding the police. It’ll make more sense for someone like him to do it than someone like me—a nobody. If anything, they’ll find my sudden interest in the case alarming.”

Her mouth twisted in a cute way. “You mean it wasn’t you who pushed me off the yacht?”

Plunking down on the couch, he snorted. “Naw. Murder isn’t my thing.” Then he paused. “Well, I mean, it’s not my thing. However, I do enjoy watching murder mysteries. Love anything Sherlock Holmes.”

“Me, too.”

“Shall we put on some Lucy Liu and Jonny Lee Miller? Or are you more of a Robert Downey Jr, or Benedict Cumberbatch fan?”

“I like them all. But definitely Johnny and Lucy. I have to say, his display of character growth and portrayal of an addict is just impeccable. The writers were phenomenal on that show. And anything Lucy touches ...” She made the chef’s kiss with her fingers.

Clint’s stomach fluttered. “I couldn’t agree more.” He went to reach for the remote, but then shot back to his feet. “Beer?”

She cocked her head to the side in thought, but then nodded. “Sure.”

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