Page 55 of Rescued by the Single Dad

“Yeah, the sandwich is pretty good, too. Wyatt knows his way around the kitchen.”

“I’ll say,” she muffled, her mouth full.

The flavors and full stomach helped boost her mood significantly.

After a few minutes when the kettle whistled, Jagger took off to the kitchen and returned with her tea, the steam rising from the hand-thrown green and brown ceramic mug.

“Do you need anything else before I go?” he asked.

Yes, just stay and talk with me. Fill me in on your brother and why he changed into a completely different person after we had sex.

But she merely shook her head and smiled. “I think I’m all good. Thank you, Jagger. I really appreciate it.”

“You’ve got the walkie talkie, right?” he asked, glancing around for it.

She nodded and reached under the throw pillow on the couch. “I do. Must have slipped off the arm.”

“Good. Just radio if you need anything. We’ve all got one that we carry around the property with us. Each household has one, too. But since the kids are all at school, it’s just you right now.” He headed for the door. “As much as it was a fucked-up circumstance how you got here, Brooke, it’s been really nice meeting you. I love your movies.” He reached for the knob. “And for what it’s worth, Flynn Howard is a shitty actor.” Then he opened the door and left with a wave.

Brooke finished her sandwich—though she probably shouldn’t have her belly was so full—then also finished her fries.

They were just too good to leave uneaten. Cold fries were only good when you were drunk.

But after that, along with the herbal tea Jagger made her, she was sleepy. Not that she should have been. She’d literally done nothing all day. Nevertheless, she was tired. So she grabbed a throw from the back of the couch, closed her eyes and within seconds, she was asleep.

But it wasn’t a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

No.

The dreams came on almost as soon as her eyes closed. Or at least that’s what it felt like.

And she was trapped in her sleep.

She knew it was all a dream, and she kept screaming at herself to wake up, but she couldn’t.

The water filled her mouth each time she tried to yell for help. Each time, she pleaded with herself to wake up, her arms flailing.

She knew how to swim. So why wasn’t she swimming?

For some reason, her legs just wouldn’t kick.

The swells were enormous, and the faint cackling sound of someone laughing at her from a great distance just escalated her panic.

She was going to drown.

Someone wanted her dead. Someone took great joy watching her struggle. Watching her fight for her life.

She spun around in the water, searching for help, then suddenly, she was in a public pool, not the ocean anymore, and there were people everywhere. Spectators lined the pool edge, and they were watching her drown.

“Help!” she cried again, before more water filled her mouth and she went under. She kicked hard to propel herself to the surface again and took in a big gulp of air when she got there. Her eyes fixed on the crowd.

People she recognized glared back at her.

Her family.

Aunts and uncles. Cousins. Her mother. Her father. And of course, a sea of police officers. Her father’s friends. All of them dressed in their uniforms, watching her with interest. With smirks on their faces, hands behind their backs.

Nobody was going to help her.

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