Page 27 of Rescued by the Single Dad

Clint rolled his eyes. “Figure of speech.”

“Whatever that means,” his daughter said, shaking her head.

Clint opened his mouth, about to argue, but seemed to think better of it. He just shook his head and smiled down at his cheeky offspring before tilting his head to the side, indicating that Brooke should follow him.

They left the kids in the kitchen, and continued on into the living room, the foyer, and eventually outside onto the quaint porch. “Nobody can see up here,” he said. “We’re safe from prying eyes. My brothers all know you’re here. But that’s it. Well, them and the kids. But the kids know to keep their tiny traps shut.”

“The girls are so lovely.”

Pride infused his face, and his broad chest puffed up a little. Then his smile faltered. “But?”

She dropped her gaze to her feet. “But, I’m going a little stir-crazy. I know it hasn’t even been a day, but ...”

“You’re used to space and—”

“My own things.”

He nodded in understanding. “In addition to making lunch, I came here to get a shopping list from you. I’ll pop to town and pick up a few things. Just make a list.”

She smiled in appreciation. “Thank you. I don’t want to be a burden. And you letting me stay here means the world. I just—”

“You’re feeling lost.”

There he went again, reading her mind and finishing her sentences.

Normally, when a man cut her off, she got angry, but with Clint, and in this circumstance, she didn’t. It was because he understood how she felt. And she liked being understood.

Flynn never really did understand her. Never really got her.

Nobody did. Nobody but Inez, anyway.

And between Inez and her damn good PR team, her traumatic past and information about her broken family remained under wraps.

Fear spiked through her. Was all that about to change now that the world thought she died? Not that there was a gag-order on talking about her past or anything, but now that she was presumed dead would the media start digging deeper into her life before Hollywood? Would they try to track down her family?

“What just happened?” Clint asked, worry in his blue eyes. “You had a smile on your face, then it dropped to your toes.”

She shook her head and pasted on the smile she’d perfected over the years. The smile she used when a reporter or journalist asked her the most asinine and insulting question, while her male co-stars got the more stimulating ones. “Nothing. Just ... tired.”

It didn’t look like he quite believed her, but he also wasn’t going to press for more. He nodded. “You’re more than welcome to go lie down upstairs in the guestroom. It’s yours until you don’t want it anymore.”

This man was just so freaking nice.

And here, after Flynn, she thought all the good guys were taken. That just cads and rakes remained in the cesspool known as the dating pond.

“There has already been a reporter at the pub,” he said. “Jagger is in charge of the media, so he’s handling it. Saying they’re free to roam the beach, and that we’re all on the look-out just like everyone else, but patrons are not to be disturbed.”

Her gut swirled. “Thank you.”

“Any more clue who it could have been?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to say that it was Kendall, because why? What would she have to gain from my death? But I can’t think of anyone else. I don’t want to sound like a pompous ass, but I didn’t really have enemies.”

Clint huffed a laugh and brought that dimple back out. “That’s not pompous.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. I can’t think of anyone who would want to kill me.”

“No deranged fan? A stalker? Maybe ... another actor who got passed up for a role that was given to you?”

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