Page 76 of Rescued by the Single Dad

Clint woke up early the next morning. He wanted to be on the first ferry over to Seattle, so as much as he didn’t want to leave Brooke alone in his big, warm bed, he had to.

She seemed to be okay on her feet, but even if she wasn’t, Jagger would come over later to help get Talia out the door to the school bus. He could assist Brooke with the stairs if she needed it. Not that Clint liked the idea of his brother carrying Brooke around like some lumberjack, but after their night together, he figured he didn’t have anything to worry about with Brooke.

Besides the obvious, of course.

There was no point wasting a trip over to the mainland, so he loaded up the cube van with cases, kegs and swag, and double-checked the delivery route with Bennett before he hopped in the truck and was on the road before seven o’clock.

Last night with Brooke played over and over in his mind as he sat in the line for the ferry with the rest of the islanders. Quite a few people worked in Seattle but lived on San Camanez so they commuted every day. It wasn’t that long of a ferry ride, but the idea of not being able to just roll out of bed and walk to work was about as appealing to Clint as an appendectomy without anaesthetic.

She forgave him for his idiocy of running away—twice.

She had no reason to, and yet she did. Because she was pure sweetness.

Well, sweetness with a whole lot of spice. But he liked the spice. He liked that she didn’t take crap from him or anyone else. That she wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted, or say what she needed, both inside and outside of the bedroom.

She was stubborn, though. Fuck, was she ever stubborn.

That just made him like her more.

And he couldn’t forget the way her body melted into the hardening contours of his, fitting into all the places he never realized were so empty, as if they were just waiting to be filled by her.

They fell asleep like that. With his body curled up around hers, and he awoke on his back with her leg curled over his, her hand on his chest and her head on his shoulder.

He took a long moment to just watch her as she slept. To press his nose into her hair and envision a life where they woke up like this every day. Then they’d head downstairs and have breakfast with Talia before he headed to the brewery and Brooke ...

Brooke what?

Brooke caught a helicopter to Hollywood for the day? She’d shoot movies until four o’clock then be home by six? How long did it take to fly from Seattle to Hollywood anyway?

He was living in a dream world, and not just because he figured it’d be easy to take a helicopter to L.A. every day, but because he thought he and Brooke had something more than what rested on the surface. More than attraction to each other.

Even if there was more, there was no way it would work.

And he had to resign himself to that and just enjoy what they had for as long as they had it. He just had to make sure Talia stayed ignorant. The last thing he needed was a broken-hearted eight-year-old moping around the house all summer.

He boarded the ferry and scrolled his phone as they sailed across the calm channel that spanned between Seattle and San Camanez. The water glittered like a diamond blanket in the rising morning sun, and seagulls squawked overhead as they rode the warm breeze.

After they docked, he made three deliveries that were within a few blocks of the ferry terminal, then he headed further inland.

A brief stop at the care home where their father lived was next on the agenda, though Clint wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.

He loved his dad, but the man was deteriorating quickly and every visit just made his decline all the clearer. They rarely took the kids anymore since usually one of them was sick and if Clint’s dad got sick, that would be the end of him for sure.

It was just so painful to see a man who, not too long ago, had been so incredibly strong and, with it, suddenly reduced to a frail shadow of his former self.

Clint emailed the care home the night before to let them know he was coming. He planned to have breakfast with his dad before going out on a few more deliveries, and then finally picking up Rocco at the airport at two o’clock.

He found a parking spot big enough for his cube van on the side of the road near the care home. No parking stalls inside the parking lot would be big enough, so he didn’t even bother trying. Then he hoofed it to the front entrance, reaching it just in time to hold open the door for a woman in her late forties who was carrying a big tray of what looked like cupcakes.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s my grandfather’s birthday today, so we’re throwing him a little party in one of the event rooms.”

“No problem,” Clint replied. “Wish him a happy birthday.”

“I will! He’s one hundred and three today.”

“Wow!”

The woman took off in the opposite direction, and Clint checked in at the front desk before making his way toward his father’s room.

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