Page 106 of Rescued by the Single Dad

“That’s Burke in the kitchen. He’s got a great laugh.”

“I get the feeling this is probably a pretty fun place to work.”

“We have very little turnover, and over three hundred applications come in in March and April for summer employment. Usually, we get about twenty applications and resumes a month, but this time of the year there are way more. All the college kids want to work somewhere cool for the summer, and the pub has a bit of a reputation for that.”

“It helps that the guys who run the place are easy on the eyes, I’m sure.” She shoulder-bumped him. It was hard to see her eyes in the twilight, and her mouth was covered by the mask, but he knew her well enough already to know that she was smiling.

“I mean, the oldest guy who runs this place keeps turning down GQ to be on the cover. The other four are just ... you know, meh. Decent looking, I suppose.”

She snickered and slightly elbowed him. “Turning down GQ, hmm?”

“I’m too busy.”

“Yeah, that’s why. I mean, like, what would you call your next beer if you ended up on the cover of GQ, Smooth Criminal?”

“I’m not sure if you’re offending my looks or my age to be honest,” he said with a deep chuckle that felt as cleansing as the briny sea air drifting up from the water.

They reached the driftwood line, and in every direction the beach appeared empty. Safe enough for Brooke to ditch the mask.

“You can probably come out of hiding, Batman,” he said, scanning the water in front of them. It was a calm night, and the gentle lap against the rocks was the only sound, besides the faint music from the patio.

She removed her mask and pulled off the hood. “Ah. That’s better.”

He pulled off the ball cap, too, allowing her curly blonde locks to tumble free and over her shoulders. “That’s better,” he echoed, pushing his fingers into her hair and gripping her hard enough to pull her forward. He took her mouth, and she moaned, opening for him and allowing him to deepen the kiss. His grip on her scalp tightened, and she moaned more, which made him smile mid-kiss.

She smiled, too.

His dick twitched at the same time his heart lurched.

Eventually, he released her and broke the kiss. She touched her lips with her fingers, and the ghost of a smile drifted across her partially covered mouth. “Wow.”

He glanced down the beach so she couldn’t see his cocky, victorious teenager smile.

“Shall we walk?” he asked.

“Sure. Visit the scene of the crime ... or the scene of the near death.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to call it. But you can take me to the spot where you found me. A nearly drowned, naked rat.”

“Far from a rat,” he said with a chuckle.

“Fine. A beached whale.”

“I think we’re going with a mermaid who finally got her legs, remember?”

“Mermaids are fairy tales. I’m real, and I washed up on your beach like a beluga who swam too far south.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and snickered. “A very pretty beluga whale.”

They continued on down the beach, sticking to the tideline, which hugged the shore beneath the overhanging trees.

“I’ve always liked madrona trees,” she said out of the blue. “The twisted branches, the peeling bark and how weathered but also resilient they seem. Getting battered endlessly by the storms, yet persevering and flourishing nevertheless. When I die—for real—I’d like to be buried beneath a madrona tree, I think.”

Clint’s pulse picked up tempo. He’d had the exact same thought on more than one occasion. They were his favorite trees, too. And he certainly didn’t want to take up any more real estate in the afterlife. So why not pay it forward and let his ashes fertilize something that would outlive them all? Something that gives. Like a tree.

“They’re my favorite tree, too,” he replied, not embellishing anymore than that. “The berries are edible, and I want to make a madrona berry ale one day. But we’ll need a lot of berries for that to happen.”

“I bet that’d be tasty,” she mused.

They walked a little further, then he stopped. “This is the spot.”

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