Page 102 of Rescued by the Single Dad

A smile curled her mouth as the plan took shape. She took a sip. It was a little too hot, but she didn’t mind.

Hopefully, Clint wouldn’t think she was overstepping.

It needed to be a secret between her and the kids—and maybe Jagger, too, since he would need to help with favorite foods and gathering photos.

Yes, this was exactly what she needed. A distraction from what was currently going on in the world. In her world.

Because even though having Rocco with her kept her off social media, she knew better than to think the world was already on to a new gossip topic. Not that she thought she was worth the attention. But, since her father’s interview, the wolves were probably hunting in packs for fresh meat. And the juicier the better.

She took her tea back into the living room and sat down on the couch, staring at the tablet on the coffee table.

“Don’t even think about it,” came Rocco’s voice, making her jump. He sauntered down the hallway in that unique Rocco way. His broad shoulders moved gracefully. Then he did a little head toss and flipped that swath of hair that had fallen over his eyes back on top of his head. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his model-like strut. “Don’t you dare get on social media. You made me promise to stop you, and I’m sticking to that promise.”

She sipped her tea. “How’d it go with Tinsley McTavish?”

A smirk pulled at the left corner of his mouth as he took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “She’s just about to have her lashes refilled, but she’d love to talk to me in about two hours.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Okay, so now what?”

He shrugged. “No idea. But stay the fuck away from that tablet.”

She pouted, but knew he was right. “Got any sloths you’re nurturing back to health?”

His eyes lit up, and he pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his khaki shorts. “As a matter of fact ...” Then they spent the next hour catching up and flipping through photos of rehabilitated animals on his phone. She’d topped up her tea twice and made Rocco some coffee. It felt good to be with her brother. To be with family.

It really was just the two of them against the world.

But there was nobody she’d rather fight the dragons with than him.

His phone vibrated with a message when they were standing in the kitchen, staring up at the grassy hillside behind the house. “Ah, that must be Ms. McTavish.” He bobbed his dark blond brows and wandered off to the study.

Brooke needed to remain quiet.

It was a beautiful spring day, so she opened the patio door and stepped outside, pulling the warm, fresh air into her lungs. It was cleansing and bolstering.

She didn’t even hear the front door open, so when Jagger said, “Brought your lunch,” she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“You scared me,” she said, her heart hammering against her ribcage.

Clint’s youngest brother grinned beneath his thick beard. “Sorry.” He set the recyclable container on the patio table. “Left Rocco’s on the kitchen counter. I heard him on the phone.”

She leaned forward in her fire engine-red Adirondack chair to open the container. Mediterranean spices drifted up her nostrils, and her belly grumbled. “He’s talking with Tinsley McTavish, the same reporter—if you can even call her that—that interviewed my father. Rocco’s going to set the record straight.”

“Good idea.”

Brooke grabbed the compostable fork Jagger brought and dove in.

“That’s Wyatt’s Mediterranean couscous bowl with beet hummus and falafel.”

“It’s delicious,” she said with her mouth full.

He turned to go, but when she gave a chin lift and a look that said stay, he stopped in the doorway.

Jagger’s smiles often seemed borderline flirtatious, but always mischievous. This one was no different. He waited for her to chew and swallow the too big of a bite she took.

“There,” she said, exhaling. “That was good, but I need to take smaller bites.”

The mischief spread into his eyes.

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