Page 21 of Rescued by the Single Dad

Clint cleared his throat. “My apologies. And there is no need to earn your keep. You need to keep a low profile.”

Brooke simply nodded. “Well, I don’t want to be a freeloader. So, let’s come to some kind of an agreement. I love to garden, so if you need your lawns mowed, I’m your gal.”

“One thing at a time,” Clint replied, their eyes locking and something he couldn’t quite label passing between them. When she said I’m your gal, a weird, warm sensation filled his chest. He liked it, but it was unusual and was instantly struck, thrown ashore by a wave of guilt like driftwood, only to be taken back out again—into uncertainty.

He was about to open his mouth when there was a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it!” Talia announced, jumping out of her seat and racing to the door before Clint could even take a breath.

He peeled himself out of his seat, glanced at Bennett and Brooke curiously before following his precocious child. She opened the door to reveal Jagger.

“It’s just Uncle Jagger,” she called back into the house with disappointment, only giving Jagger a quick look before she skipped into the kitchen again.

“Nice to see you too, squirt,” Jagger said sarcastically. His eyes followed Talia into the house, full of curiosity. “She still here?” he dropped his voice to a whisper.

“Yes,” Clint said. “Why?”

“Because it’s all over the news already. Social media is blowing up about the disappearance of Brooke Barker. They found her dress near Whidbey Island. It got caught in some fishing net. But they’re putting out word to all the surrounding islands, and asking anyone with a beach to keep their eyes peeled.”

Jagger’s gaze lifted and softened, which made Clint shift around. Brooke joined them at the door. “Are they presuming I’m dead?”

“Nothing definitive has been said. It’s all just speculation at this point. Experts weighing in and all that.”

“Experts?” she asked.

Jagger shrugged. “People who know the water and the tides. They’re discussing the minimal likelihood of anyone surviving that water for as long as you did. However, people like your assistant and manager mention that you were a champion swimmer in high school. But those water experts are saying that wouldn’t be enough to keep you alive.”

Clint snorted. “Well, it was.”

“Are they ruling it an accident?” Brooke asked.

Jagger pulled his phone from his pocket, slid his finger across the screen for a few seconds, then handed it to Brooke. “See for yourself.”

She held Jagger’s phone and Clint squeezed in close to her to read, too. He smelled his body wash on her and fought the urge to close his eyes. It smelled way better on her than it did on him, or even in the bottle.

“They’re speculating suicide?” she said, high-pitched. “Over the dissolution of my relationship with Flynn? And it’s Kendall Blakely, who they’re using as a source?”

Anger rolled off her in near tangible heat waves. She squeezed Jagger’s phone, and her entire body trembled slightly. Then she relaxed and barked out a sarcastic laugh that made Jagger and Clint startle. “I was planning to celebrate the end of that relationship, not kill myself. Good God.”

She clicked on a link to one of her social media platforms. Her photos and videos were flooded with comments about how much of an icon and positive role model she’d been. How she was taken too soon, and that Brooke Barker needed justice.

“They don’t even have a body, and already people are planning a vigil,” she said. “This is insane.”

“Unless they have a body, you can’t be legally declared dead for seven years,” Clint added. “So if you think it was someone after your money, it’s unlikely.”

She shook her head in an almost absent-minded way. “No. I don’t think that.”

She clicked on another link. This one took them to a video of a young woman who looked a lot like Brooke with similar hair color—maybe a shade darker, but definitely the same length. Her nose was almost identical to Brooke’s, too. Her muddy-brown eyes were full of tears.

Brooke hit play for the video and the woman’s voice, all whiny because of the crying, burst out of the speakers. “She was the most amazing boss ever. More like a sister, really. We grew up together. I can’t believe she’d jump. I just can’t. But I honestly think the fame just got to her, you know? All that pressure. And Flynn—” the woman bared her teeth and a menacing glint flickered in her brown eyes, “He never deserved her. And to cheat and then throw it in her face.” A tear slid down her cheek. “She didn’t deserve that. He was such a terrible boyfriend. A terrible man.”

“Wow, this woman sure hates your ex,” Jagger said.

“That’s my assistant, Inez Todd,” Brooke said in disbelief. “And yeah, she really hates Flynn. Wait, does she also think I jumped? That I tried to kill myself?”

Inez continued to speak. “I just ... I just can’t believe she’s gone. She was so ... beautiful. So talented. Her star wasn’t nearly close to shining as bright as I knew it could. She was a champion swimmer. I used to watch her races for goodness sake. I’ve seen the medals and trophies.” She swept tears out from beneath her eyes. “I don’t want to say what I think. I just … I just wish she would have talked to me. I could have helped her.” That last word broke with a sob and Inez sucked in several stuttered, shallow breaths. “She was like a sister to me. More than a sister. She was also my best friend.”

The video ended and Brooke handed the phone back to Jagger, her ire deflating like a balloon with a pin prick. Her shoulders rounded, and she shook her head. “Everyone’s going to think I killed myself over Flynn.”

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