Page 11 of Who’s Your Daddy (Dadcoms #1)

Lola

“ S o you’re keeping the Philips Estate and the three custody cases, plus your two GALs here in the office.”

Brian grimaces. Just as I predicted, he’s not happy with this arrangement. The man lives for his cases, so passing several of them to associates in the main office is painful for him.“Considering we have to be open to new cases in Jersey, we can’t handle more than that.” He sags in his chair.

“We could have kept the Treams Estate and probably the Ferris’ custody case too. I was handling those.”

Brian cocks a brow. “You’re now responsible for all three of us and our caseloads. Not just me.”

My muscles lock up at the reminder. Right, I’m working with the Murphy boys as well.

Over the weekend I got settled in my new place, all the while actively working to forget the turmoil Cal and his thoughtfulness forced on me.

I was fairly successful, and the man has returned to the box in my mind where he belongs. The one reserved for annoyances only.

Especially after his paralegal emailed me, laying out the chaos that is his caseload. The man needs to focus. I might have to start tying him to his desk chair .

“Also.” Brian taps his fingers, his attention drifting to a spot just overhead.

Dread threads its way through me. “No.” I know this look. Whatever it is, I don’t want any part of it.

“I haven’t even said anything.”

Frowning, I cross my arms. He’s going to ask whether I want to hear it or not, so I might as well let him get to it.

He sighs, resting his forearms on his desk. “Somehow we only got one copy of the Narson trial binder, and I need two for court this afternoon.”

I grit my teeth and force myself to breathe evenly. “The one with 97 exhibits?”

With a grimace, he pulls the five-inch three ring binder out of a bag he must have hidden on the other side of his desk. “The old copy machine was set up over the weekend, and Sully had a Staples order delivered so we have paper. Think you could whip together a second one for me?”

“Fine.” I grab the massive thing off the desk and storm out of his office.

The main space is barely bigger than my office space in New York, yet I share it with the monster of a copier.

One wall opens to a large closet for redwell storage, and the carpet is a dingy gold.

The walls definitely weren’t this drab grayish-yellow color when they were painted decades ago.

No, it’s the grime and dirt that were permanently absorbed by it.

At least the putrid smell is gone.

My “desk” is a folding table that the guys swear will be replaced “soon,” but I’m not holding my breath. The Sheetrock above me creaks like someone is walking around the apartment upstairs, but no one is home. Sully is in his office and Cal has yet to return from taking Murphy to school.

Hesitantly I glance up, suddenly concerned the ceiling might collapse on top of me. Though the paint is cracked, it seems stable, so I let out a sigh and get back to work .

“Lo!” Sully calls. “I’m going to print something I need sent out asap.”

“She’s working on my binder,” Brian yells.

“She can do both,” Sully hollers back.

Right, because I’m their fairy godmother I can do all the things. Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.

The printer groans, then makes the kind of noise that signals that it’s going to start spitting out papers. Instead, it thunks and goes quiet. I’m halfway across the room when it lets out a loud beep.

Of course it’s jammed. How could the dinosaur not be? I heft the heavy lid, ready to work my magic, starting with the most likely culprit. I pull open the door that should allow me access to the jammed paper, but when I peer in, paper is not what I find.

Stomach lurching, I leap back, a full-body shudder working its way through me.

Oh no. God, no. It’s full of hundreds, no, maybe thousands of maggots.

“Oh shit.” I whisper as I continue backing away from the little white wormy things. “Oh shit.” Heart pounding, I shake out my hands. I have to get away from the bugs. Now. When I take another step back, my calf hits a box and I stumble.

I don’t stop. I can’t. My mind has been overtaken by visions of the creepy-crawlies wriggling along my skin.

Half falling, half climbing, I jump onto the box, then clamber onto the card table.

My violent movements are a bit too much, sending me sliding off the other edge into a heap on the dingy gold carpet.

“Shit shit shit.” I chant.

God knows what I’ll find down here but standing up means having to look at the copier again. Neither are great options.

“Lola?”

I leap to my feet, determined to get off what could be bug-infested carpet while turning to keep my gaze from landing on the behemoth of a machine across the room. As I stand, I stumble again, slamming into a hard body .

“Whoa.” Cal catches my arm gently. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t stop moving. Not until I skirt him so he’s standing between me and the copier. “The things in the thing. And uck,” I stammer, body trembling, arms waving.

Another shudder hits me. Shit. What if I left the lid open? They’re probably squirming out and heading for me.

“What?”

“It's infested.” I back up again, but he stops me with that gentle hand on my arm.

He ducks his head, catching my gaze, calming me a fraction. With a concerned once-over, he releases me and turns to the copier.

Before he can take a step, I grab his hand. “Don’t let them escape. We don’t want maggots.”

“Maggots?” Cal’s lips pull into a line. An expression that might be disbelief. Though there’s an equal chance he’s fighting a laugh. “Lola maggots don’t live in photocopiers.”

“Uh, I beg to differ.” I point to the dinosaur. “There are thousands in that thing.”

Cal yanks out of my grasp and moves to the machine.

No. No, no, no. I should stop him, but I refuse to go near it again.

He lifts the lid, and with a yelp, he jumps back. “Bloody hell.”

“I told you.”

The door jingles open behind us.

Shit. I whip my head around, praying it’s not a client. We can’t let them see the maggots.

Who would hire an attorney who has a lifetime supply of decomposers hiding in their office?

Actually …They might come in handy for a criminal attorney.

“Too late, I see.” Madame Esmeralda shakes her head, not the least bit surprised or confused by our terror.“I warned you about the lid.”

I’m still trying to suck in a lungful of air as I gape at her. What?

“I told you last week about lifting lids.”

“Oh.” She did .

“You are eerily accurate.” Cal, who scurried away from the bugs, though kept himself between them and me, is staring at the snake ring on her pinkie almost like the deep green gems in its eye sockets are hypnotizing him.

Wonder where she got it. Amazon? I should look. Maybe I could use my own to keep him in line.

“Your father said the same thing. Now, where is that brother of yours? I need to sign some papers for my place apparently.”

Cal tips his head toward Sully’s office and Madame Esmeralda floats across the room. As she passes us, Cal suddenly jerks forward crashing into my card table and sending two stacks of papers onto the floor.

Dammit. I need a better desk.

Before I can comment on it—before I can butter him up and talk him into ordering one for me right now —he spins around, backing up so his ass hits the table, and watches, wide-eyed as Madame Esmeralda steps through the door of Sully’s office.

“I think she pinched my arse.”

I chuckle. “You think?” If I’d been touched like that, I can’t imagine I wouldn’t know for sure.

He peaks over his shoulder at his own butt and then looks back at me, confusion swimming in his expression. “Maybe?”

The floor above us creaks again, cutting through the silence. I glance up, knowing no one is upstairs.

“Also,” Cal says, his tone serious. “I think we have a ghost.”

Sighing, I fall into my desk chair.

This is what life has come to, an eccentric ass grabbing seer, a maggot infested copier, and a boss who believes in ghosts.

Damn Terry and his big ideas.

“Oh, you know what?” Cal perks up, his face taking on its typical brightness. “I can fix this.” He slides a small paper bag my way, making the table wobble as he does. “One croissant from Stella’s and one iced coffee.”

Tipping the bag hesitantly, I peek in. Instantly, I’m assaulted by the delicious buttery scent of a croissant and the sharp, addicting aroma of espresso. “You…” I peer up at him. “You got me coffee?”

“Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets.” The annoying line is in song form this time.

Normally, his typical response, the damn song lyrics, set my teeth on edge. Today, though, the words are softer. Like maybe he’s trying to be nice rather than irritating.

I work hard to fight the smile, but my lips tip up of their own accord. “Thanks.”

He rocks back on his heels. “It's only a block from the school.”

Warmth blooms in my chest. “How did day one go?”

“Oh.” He ducks his head, and I swear his cheeks go pink.

“I was so nervous I had to skip breakfast, but I think Murphy did okay. I got him a new backpack.” He slides his phone from his pocket, and with one swipe after another, he shows me about seventeen thousand pictures of Murphy from the moment he woke up until he’s stepping into the school building, nothing but his blue and silver backpack visible.

“Thanks so much,” Madame Esmeralda calls as she steps out of Sully’s office.

Not so casually, Cal shuffles back until he’s pressed up against the wall like he’s keeping his backside safe.

The ceiling creaks again, and I look up.

“Oh, don’t mind Sebastian.” Madame Esmeralda waves dismissively. “He’s very heavy-footed, you’ll get used to it.” She rushes to the door. “And don’t worry, Lo, the only other surprise today will be a ladybug.”

Fear grips my chest. “Wait! What? When?” I call out.

It’s too late. She’s gone.Pulse picking up, I survey the room, though I deliberately avoid looking at the copier.

Sully and Brian both promised the exterminator cleared the place of the beady-eyed red vermin. Though they did miss a thousand maggots in their inspection.

“Do you see any? ”

“See what?” Cal asks.

“Ladybugs.” I practically shudder at the word.

“Oh no, but they’re so cute.” He steps away from the wall, face alight as he also scans the room. “I love them.”

“They’re awful. Those eyes? They’re always planning something. Beady little things. They poop on everything. Everything . Imagine walking around with lady bug poop on your hands, on your clothes. It will be everywhere just?—"

Cal barks out a laugh. “Most people think they’re good luck.”

“Most people are stupid,” I mutter.

“I’ll keep you away from the maggots and the ladybugs.” He dips his chin, peering at his phone. “Later. When I get back, I’ll get you moved into the conference room with me.”

I grimace. Share the room with him? No, thank you. “I’ll move into the empty office.”

“I’ll move you into the conference room later.” He nods, ignoring me completely. “Right now, I need to go because it’s almost Murphy’s lunchtime.”

“Why?” I frown. “Did you forget to send a lunch?” Poor kid. Day one, and Dad forgot to pack food for him.

“I sent him lunch.” Cal scoffs. “Three options just in case.”

Tapping my fingers on the card table I study him, confused. “So then…”

“I need to make sure he has someone to sit with.”

I suck in a breath. Oh no. “You’re going to sit with him?” That’s just what every kid wants on their first day at a new school, their dad sitting at the lunch table. Even in first grade, it’ll make him a pariah.

“Of course not.” He gives me a look of disgust. “If I did that, kids would think he’s a weirdo, I’m just going to watch through the window.”

I close my eyes and rub at my temples, willing the impending migraine to abate.

In a Cal way, it makes sense .

With a cleansing breath, I zero in on him. “So you’re the weirdo, not Murphy.”

He frowns, as if he thinks I’m on the wrong side of this conversation.

“Just for today. Tomorrow, I’ll drop him off, and I won’t leave work again until it’s time to pick him up.

When you have a minute, will you take a look at my schedule and make sure that all my meetings and court appearances happen between ten thirty and two? Thanks.”

“What?” He’s got to be joking. Court closes from twelve thirty to two p.m. for lunch. He can’t expect every judge in our district to be amenable to working with him during those two hours a day only.

He lifts a shoulder, the movement easy. “I have to drop the kids off, so I can’t get here before ten thirty, and I have to leave by two p.m., otherwise I’ll be late picking them up.”

I can appreciate that he’s jumping into this parenting thing with both feet, but the man is an attorney. His work schedule cannot revolve around carpool. No, in this line of work, we’re all at the mercy of the courts and our firm’s clients.

It takes effort to keep my tone neutral. “The judges are not going to agree to this.”

“It’s for a child.”

That argument works in some actual cases, but this is a personal matter, not a legal one. “Yes, but this time you are the child. Your child is at school. They’re not going to deem it necessary.”

“You can do it. I believe in you.” His lips turn up in that damn charming smile.

I drop my gaze, focusing on the knot of his tie. There’s no way I’ll let that expression soften me. “ Can and will are not the same thing.” I cross my arms and risk looking up to glare. “I can’t work magic with the courts.”

Instead of backing down at my annoyance, his blue eyes brighten, and he blasts me with a full-on grin. “Come on, Lola.” He rocks onto his heels and dips his chin just a hair. “Be a team player.”

“I’m not on your team.” It’s a reminder to myself as much as him .

He pouts. “But I brought you coffee.”

Before I can respond Brian appears, head peeking out of his office door. “Minor issue.”

“Besides the maggots in the printer?”

Brian winces. “Well, there’s a silver lining here, I guess. I just called the exterminator again. There are several mice nests in the empty office.”

I groan. Of course there are. This place is the literal worst.

“That’s great news.” Cal’s voice is way too chipper.

“I hate this place,” I mumble, eyes drifting shut.

Brian grunts. “I’m not too crazy about it either, but it’s only a year.”

I snap my eyes open again and narrow them on my boss. “Ninety days. That’s all I promised.”