Page 104 of Rescued by the Single Dad

“Rocco, call your lawyer and change your will now.”

Her brother looked at her like she’d sprouted another head. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“Well, do something. If Fletcher succeeds, he stands to inherit millions.”

Rocco spread his hands out, palms up, and shook his head. “Brooke, I—”

“Just do something,” she exclaimed.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Clint’s voice made her heart lurch in her chest. He came through the door and onto the patio, concern etched across his handsome features.

She surged to her feet and went to him. “It was my dad. Had to have been. And now he’s coming after Rocco.”

Clint rubbed her back. “What? How do you know?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks and onto his flannel shirt. “I’m Rocco’s only beneficiary, and he’s mine. If we’re both dead and have no second in line, it defaults to our father. It all makes sense.”

His hands on her back felt good. Reassuring. He also smelled wonderful, and the heat of his body soothed her chaotic soul. She exhaled a few stuttered breaths but could already feel her pulse settling. “I take it you heard the news about the police declaring it a suicide and that they found a body? That’s why I came up. To see if you were okay after the news broke.”

Brooke turned her face, pressing her cheek against Clint’s chest, and looked at her brother. “Please, just call your lawyer. Make the animal sanctuary the beneficiary. Give it all away to charity. Just don’t let that bastard get his hands on our money.”

Rocco sucked in a deep breath through his nose and nodded, pulling out his phone and standing up, heading into the house.

“It’s going to be okay,” Clint said, rubbing her back. “We’ll figure it all out. Hopefully now that the police investigation is closed, the person who tried to kill you will do something stupid, thinking they’re no longer a suspect, and make it easy to catch them. People who think they’ve gotten away with something usually get cocky. Some even revisit the scene of the crime or attend vigils just to gloat about their success.”

She blinked up at him with teary eyes. The love and concern that gazed back at her left her speechless.

Clint turned to Jagger, who stood off to the side, an unsure look on his face. “I’m going to stay up here for a bit. Can you help Cooper with the final batch we were working on this morning? He knows what he’s doing. Then those watermelon sours need labels and tell him to start boiling the priming sugar for the kelp coast hefeweizen. I want to start bottling that later today.”

Jagger nodded. “Sure thing.” He disappeared into the house.

Clint paused, his lips pensive, then pulled out his phone. “Hang on.” He didn’t let go of Brooke, but he shot off a text with one hand to Cooper, reiterating everything he’d just told Jagger. He glanced down at Brooke when he shoved his phone back into his pocket. “It’s not that I don’t trust Jagger, it’s just ... I’m a control freak. He’s also like a golden retriever and gets easily distracted. A squirrel or a pretty girl could run past him, and he’d chase after them with his tongue hanging out, forgetting all about my beer.”

Her smile remained small, but she appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood.

She also appreciated that he came to check on her. She knew he was a control freak and liked to do everything in the brewery. He trusted Cooper, but Clint still wanted to make sure every bottle got his thorough once-over before it went to market. The fact that he was leaving Cooper and Jagger to the brewery and staying with her spoke volumes. She always took note that he wasn’t a control freak when they were together, but could take control at the right time. The man was more self-aware than most and seemed to have a decent handle on his emotions—unlike a lot of men she knew.

Clint sat down on the wicker patio sofa with the dark blue cushions and pulled her into his lap. “Your dad won’t get your money because neither you nor Rocco are going to die. You’re safe. Nobody knows you’re here, and as long as Rocco stays hidden, too, nobody will ever know. We’ll wait for the dust to settle and see if the killer comes out of hiding.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then tipped her chin up with a knuckle. “Okay?”

She nodded and bit her lip to keep it from wobbling. “Okay.”

“Good girl.”

Heat roared to life in her lower belly, despite how unsettled she still felt.

He always knew just what to say to rev her engine.

Glancing at the to-go container on the table, he picked it up and handed it to her. “You should eat.”

She took it from him and opened it, his warm hands practically burning through her yoga pants as he placidly watched her eat. The couscous was delicious, and she did feel better the more she put in her stomach.

“You’re going a little stir-crazy cooped up in here, aren’t you?” he asked, tracing invisible lines on her thigh.

Swallowing, she nodded sheepishly. “Maybe a little.”

“We’ll wait until it’s dark, which will be late, given that it’s May, but I think it’ll be safe enough for you to come out of hiding tonight. Maybe we can take a walk down the beach.”

“Go where I washed up like a beached whale?”

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