Page 17 of Who’s Your Daddy (Dadcoms #1)
Lola
“ L o.”
The walkie-talkie crackles, pulling my attention away from the risk assessment Sully asked me to read over.
Though I’m not sure the Jersey intercom system is any better than yelling—it makes it easier for them to dump more on me—the way Cal defended me to them? Yeah, that was sweet. Which is not typical for Cal.
Maybe that was the old Cal. This new Cal, the one who’s taken over since we moved to Jersey, is sweet. And I kind of like it.
“Lo. Ya there?” Brian repeats. “I need you to pull exhibits A through U for Kambrano.”
The lightness that had taken over wheezes out of me. Twenty-one exhibits. No problem .
I grit my teeth. So far today, I’ve been tasked with sending out three letters, putting together a notice of motion, and finishing this risk assessment. And it’s not even lunchtime.
Apparently they think I possess some magical ability that allows me to do six things at the same time.
I pick up the dumb thing and fumble with it. “No,” I say, not totally sure I held the button long enough. “Not available for that.” I add for good measure.
For as long as I’ve been around, the guys have each had their own paralegal, plus two legal assistants and associates to help with the grunt work.
Now it’s just me. So they are gonna have to learn to step up and do more of the heavy lifting themselves.
In fact, I intend to teach them how to use the brand-new copier before the day is over.
How is it that they passed the bar, yet they can’t even scan a document?
Oh, because they’re spoiled asshats.
Brian appears in the doorway. “Why the hell not?”
“She’s working on prep for my DV trial tomorrow.”Sully pushes past him and drops a stack of papers on my already full desk. “Police reports.”
I give him a clipped nod, though I’m pretty sure there’s smoke billowing from my ears.
“I’m getting the three letters proofed and up to JEDS plus hard copies sent,” I say to Brian.
“I have the notice of motion, proposed order and cert. I also did service and fees for the motion you’re doing.
Before the end of the day, I’ll need to follow up on the interrogatories on Jensen.
Plus, I’m doing this stuff for Sully.” Exhaling, I rub at my temples.
“So, no Brian, I don’t have time to pull exhibits. ”
He sighs, his shoulders sinking. “You’re my paralegal.”
“I used to be, yeah. And I could be again if we left this shit hole but for the next”—I squint at the calendar on the wall with the countdown—“sixty-eight days I belong to all of you.”
“No one is leaving for a year.” With a glare at Brian, Sully jabs a finger at the papers he dropped on my desk. “Flag anything I need to review in red. Yellow if you think it’s an exhibit.”
As he brushes past Brian, he grits out, “I’m getting my firm and my family back. A year Brian, not a day less.”
Brian watches him go, and he doesn’t turn back to me until Sully’s door slams shut.
“So I’m really pulling my own exhibits? ”
Before I can respond, the bell on the front door jingles, announcing Cal’s arrival.
Of their own accord, my eyes jump to one of the two computer screens in front of me.
10:22 a.m.
He’s later than normal.
“ Lola ,” he sings.
Smirking, Brian steps back. A moment later, Cal practically prances into the room.He’s in a blue button-down that pulls across his shoulders, showing off just how defined his body is. From here, it looks like he didn’t shave this morning, so there is just a hint of shadow dusting his jaw.
Dammit. I swear the man gets hotter every day. It’s annoying as hell.
“I come bearing a bag of wakey-breaky and the best nifty-gifty.”
Brian snorts. I actually like that one, though. Nifty-gifty. I’m dangerously close to giggling before my good senses return and I suppress it.
Have I seriously sunk to laughing at the dumb ass rhymes this gorgeous man spews?
Cal’s eyes twinkle like he can read my mind. Shit. I hope not. If he knew how hot I think he is, he’d be insufferable.
“Are you ready for it?” He grins that stupidly handsome grin. “Come on, Lola, get excited.”
He strides around the table and pulls me to my feet. Once I’m steadied, he doesn’t step away. No, he peers down at me, his blue eyes sparkling.
The heat radiating from him is far too comforting, and his scent is enough to hypnotize me. I’m frozen, unable to move away.
His gaze drops to my mouth, and his lips part.
A bone-deep desire to press my mouth to his crashes over me like a wave.
“Who’s in the lobby?” Brian’s voice jars me out of the haze, and I quickly step back from the man messing with my head .
I do not like him, I remind myself. Right?
“Is that Amy Reynolds?” Brian’s voice is farther away now, but the pitch is higher, filled with horror.
The same kind of sensation swamps me at the name, sobering me completely. Amy Reynolds? The woman was the worst intern in the history of Murphy & Machon.
I rush around the table and out the door of the conference room. Brian stands at the mouth of the hallway, and sure enough, just inside the front door, a brunette dressed in a short skirt and sky-high heels stands.
“Surprise,” Cal says from behind me. “I brought reinforcements. I reached out to our favorite intern and she’s happy to help.”
As she nods, her eyes dart around the lobby area and her smile falls. “You didn’t say the office was so gross, Cal.”
This might be the first time I’ve ever agreed with a word from the woman’s mouth.
“But, like, we’ll get flowers,” she says, perking up. “And pink pillows for that sofa. It’ll be like amazing.” She claps. “Ooo, maybe we can get a coffee bar.”
“That would be fun,” Cal agrees. He turns to me, his brows lifted. “Isn’t it great to have her?”
The irritation that’s so common in this man’s presence has returned, seeping into my veins. He’s got to be kidding me. She’s the dumbest human alive.
I take a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. “Cal, can I talk to you for a minute?”
He slides his hands into his pockets. “Sure, what’s up?”
Teeth gritted, I spin on my heel and stride down the hall. “Brian’s office.”
“Be right back,” Cal chirps behind me.
“I know what you’re going to say,” he says as he steps into the office behind me. “But we’re only allowed one paid employee.The wording of the trust is ironclad in that respect. This is a work-around. ”
Brian steps in and shuts the door. “An intern might be a good idea.”
I glare at him. The traitor just doesn’t want to do his own busy work.
I scoff. “Not Amy.” She’s far more likely to make my job harder than be of any kind of assistance.
Brian rubs at his chin. “She really was the worst we’ve ever had.”
“Really?” Cal frowns, his brows pulled low.
Head cocked, I cross my arms. “Don’t you remember when she emailed the judge the lunch order and sent the protected order to the deli?”
His face gives nothing away.
I fling my hand in the air. “No? So, you don’t remember that when I confronted her about it, her response was that’s so weird ?”
“I handled that. The judge was fine.” Cal smirks. The expression causes an almost irresistible urge to hit him. “Just took a bottle of wine and night out with me.”
I drop my head back and groan. “You can’t tell people these things.”
“I’m telling you. You’re not people.” He hits me with a charming smile.
It doesn’t work on me. Not in this situation. The idea of him on a date irritates me. And I hate my reaction more than the image the thought conjures.
I pin my boss with a glare. “He’s as bad as Amy.”
Brian sighs.
“I’m just teasing.” Cal’s tone is too light for the situation. “I’d never take a judge out on a date. It was her clerk. Anyway,” he says, oblivious to how little that distinction helps his case, “trust me, this will be great. Come on, give her a try.”
He pulls the door open, and I begrudgingly follow him to the lobby where Amy is staring up at the ceiling, her long beach-waved hair falling almost to her waist.
We all follow her gaze and, as if on cue, there’s a thump above us .
“Will it, like, fall?” she asks.
“No,” Cal says. “That’s just Sebastian. Our ghost.”
It takes everything in me not to scoff.
Of course he’s bought into Madame Esmeralda’s idea of a ghost.
“Cool.” Amy smiles, just as easily convinced. “I want to meet him.”
“We don’t have a fucking ghost,” Sully shouts from his office. “Stop saying that or I’ll never get Sloane and T.J. to move in.”
“Sully,” Cal says, “the ghost is the least of your worries when it comes to that.”
Sully lumbers down the hall, face red. But before he can continue his rant, Cal plucks a small orange basketball from the lobby desk and tosses it at his brother’s head.
Sully catches it and glares.
“Just trying to cheer you up. We need to see the frowny upside downy.”
With a huff, Sully disappears again, his door slamming a second later.
“Think the ghost will invade our bodies and give us superpowers?” Amy asks. “That would be so cool.”
“See, she’s going to be great.” Cal smiles at me.
I can’t believe this is my life.