Page 46 of Rescued by the Single Dad

He shook his head and stowed his phone back in his pocket. “Oh nothing. Just Grayson letting me know he can’t find a spare pair of crutches anywhere so it looks like you’re at my mercy for a little while longer.”

Her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile, and that made another surge of excitement race from his chest to his toes then back up where it settled in his groin.

“I’d really like to brush my hair,” she said, as he scooped her into his arms and carried her out into the hallway. “I’ve just kept it in a braid, but I’d like to give it a comb if I can? I used some of the conditioner you had there. I hope that’s okay?”

“Of course. I’ll grab Talia’s.” Still holding onto Brooke, he ducked them both into Talia’s room and grabbed her detangling brush off her dresser before heading down the stairs. “We need to redress your feet, too.”

“I checked them out in the tub and I think they’re looking better.” Her pout was adorable. “It was so stupid of me to go walking up the hillside yesterday. Every step hurts, but I just ...” She swallowed and averted her gaze. “I just wanted something normal. And I love just ... walking.” Her cheeks turned pink, and she glanced away from him. “God, that sounds so stupid. But I go for long walks every day. Whether it’s in my neighborhood, or around the hotel where I’m staying for a film shoot. I make a point of just getting out and exploring.” Rolling her lips inward, she pulled in a deep breath from her nose. “I did it a lot as a kid. It was easier to just ... get out of the house, get out of the way, than stick around.”

Intrigue flashed inside him. There was a new puzzle piece about Brooke’s past.

Did she have a complicated home life as a child? Add in that she didn’t appear to trust the police and only had her brother left ...

What did all of that mean?

Were her parents abusive? Were they dead, or just dead to her?

And why didn’t she trust the police?

Her little snippet about her childhood was an important corner piece he could now add to the jigsaw puzzle that was Brooke Barker.

“You probably think I’m more foolish than the kids. I feel like Talia would know better than to go trekking around the hillside with cuts all over her feet.”

He gave her a playful look. “Have you met my child? She would do it in bare feet. At least you had socks and my sandals on. Weren’t they way too big for you?”

“They were, yeah. My feet kept slipping out of them. It was still really stupid. And now you’re left carrying me so that I don’t develop necrotizing fasciitis or gangrene.”

Clint snorted and set her down on the couch. “I’ll make sure neither of those things happen. And, for what it’s worth, I don’t mind carrying you.”

Her huff of disbelief had him chuckled.

“You just need to play damsel in distress for another day or two, then you and your animal sidekicks can go frolic in the wildflowers all you want.”

“I have no animal sidekicks. What kind of a Disney princess does that make me?”

“A crappy one.”

She snorted. “Exactly. I need a pigeon or a toad or something.” Her sigh was sad. “I mean, honestly, I really want a dog, even though I know that’s a boring animal sidekick. But I’m not picky. Chicken, cricket, even a worm.”

She was funny. And he liked that she could poke fun at herself. Jacqueline had never been very good at that. She took things really seriously. “As long as we listen to Grayson—I mean Dr. Malone—you’ll be recruiting animal sidekicks and frolicking in no time.”

While she brushed her hair, he went to the kitchen and retrieved the eggs and sausage he made her, along with a cut-up orange and some tea.

“But even Disney princesses must eat.” He handed her the plate, set the tea on the end table, then he returned to the kitchen and brought back a tub of warm salt water.

“I really did hit the jackpot washing up on your beach, didn’t I?” she asked, her mouth full of eggs as he gently picked up her feet and put them in the warm water.

“Well, I don’t know about that ...”

Her gaze hit him hard and hot and he swallowed as he sat back on the couch, watching her eat.

“No, Clint. I did. You’ve gone above and beyond in every way, and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.”

He smiled at her but didn’t say anything. Because what could he say?

That he was doing this more for himself than for her?

That the guilt of Jacqueline’s death still hung heavy across his heart and as he helped Brooke, some of that guilt-squeeze eased enough in his chest so he could breathe without strain. Because that’s what it was.

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