Page 20 of Who’s Your Daddy (Dadcoms #1)

Cal

“ W hat the hell is this?” Lola gapes at the helicopter I arranged like she’s never seen one before.

“A whirly-twirly.”

The driver grabs our bags from the trunk, and when I try to follow him, Lola clutches my arm, stopping me.

“What’s he doing with our bags?”

I face her full-on, frowning at her wary expression.

Is she nervous? This woman dislikes many things but I’ve never witnessed a legitimate fear of hers.

Sure, she’s not a fan of maggots, but who is?

And she’s a bit put off by our office, and Jersey in general , but that’s understandable.

But a helicopter? It’s a mode of transportation.

“He’s loading them onto the helicopter. That’s how we’re getting to Boston. The flight’s shorter this way. We’ll be there in ninety minutes.”

Her sharp fingernails dig through my shirt and into my flesh. “You want me to sit in that for ninety minutes ?” Her words come out just as sharp as her nails.

I gently pry her fingers from my arm, hoping she hasn’t already drawn blood, and lace them with mine.

Once I’m holding her securely, I can’t look away.

Her tiny hand—a hand I get such a thrill watching ball into a fist—looks right in mine.

The softness of her skin is such a contrast to the hard persona she tries to affect. It’s warm too.

“ Cal .”

I snap my gaze up to hers and tug her forward. “We’ll be fine. I’d never let anything happen to you.”

She lets out a nervous laugh. “Sure you wouldn’t. You’ve already forced me to move to Jersey and set me up in an office infested with maggots and ghosts and Amy .”

I shrug. “My father forced you into that. Not me.”

She groans up at the sky. “Terry, do you see what you’ve left me with!”

A surprised laugh rushes out of me. It’s the first time since my father’s death that I’ve felt anything other than sorrow or frustration when I’ve thought about him.

It feels good, honestly, to talk about him in an exasperated way because he sure as hell made a mess of our lives.

Though secretly, I’m glad. So I glance up at the sky and holler “Thanks, Dad!” hoping she’ll take it as sarcasm, even though the sentiment is an honest one.

Lola pulls her hand from mine and smacks me in the chest, but she’s smiling.

I snatch her hand and guide her toward our ride again.

Three strides later, she pulls up short. “Seriously, Cal, I don’t think I can get on there.”

Turning away from the powerful blades, I stand between her and the whirlybird, blocking the gusts of wind pummeling us. “It’ll be fun. An adventure.”

Her jaw ticks.

“But if you really don’t think you can do it, we can get back in the car and drive.”

Lola groans. “It’s like four hours on a good day. And it’s never a good day to drive through Connecticut.”

She’s not wrong. The damn highways in that state could make even the most patient man lose his mind.

I shrug. “I’d never complain about having more time with you. ”

She rolls her eyes but her expression softens. Scrutinizing me like she’s trying to figure me out, she takes out her phone. When she taps the screen and checks the time, she deflates. “We’ll never make it.”

I step in close and gently swipe at the wisps of hair the wind has caused to break free from her braid.

For a moment, I keep my hand there, my fingers brushing the sensitive skin behind her ear, and get lost in the emerald eyes I swear will be my undoing.

“I’ll do whatever you want. I make an exceptional grand entrance. ”

She presses her lips together like she’s trying to keep from feeling this pull that lives between us. But she can’t deny this heat. It burns hotter every time I look at her. With every reluctant smile she offers. With every scolding. With every softening glance.

She has to feel this.

I can’t not feel it.

“Promise it’s safe?”

The way she’s staring up at me, like she trusts me, sends a powerful thrill through me. “Promise.”

Her lashes flutter shut and she sighs. “Fine.”

Without giving her a second to change her mind, I haul her forward. As we approach the helicopter, I duck and put a hand on her back, signaling she should do the same. I help her up, then run back to thank our driver and make plans for him to pick us up tomorrow.

Once I’ve settled beside her, I turn to ensure she’s buckled in.

“This isn’t at all what I pictured,” she admits, her hair adorably windblown.

Attention on her, I hum, “How so?”

She surveys the large compartment. “I always thought helicopters had like jumper seats and I figured we’d have to wear headphones.”

I chuckle. “This is Beckett Langfield’s. It’s a bit fancier than that.”

Her eyes widen. “God, you Murphys really do play with the big boys.”

“If you say so.” I dig my phone out of my pocket and check the security app. Murphy and T.J. still aren’t home so all I see are the damn plants that are finally coming back to life.

My heart clenches.

Lola leans across the armrest between us and peers at my screen. “Plants look good.”

I nod.

“Why are you staring at the plants, Cal?”

“Do you think it’s wrong of me to leave Murphy?” That’s the only part of this trip I’ve struggled with. I’m excited to spend time with Lola, but now I wish I’d brought Murphy too. This was a bad idea.

Maybe she answered. Maybe she didn’t. I’m too keyed up and in my head to know.

“We should go back.” I dart a look at the door a crew member has just closed, anxiety worming its way up my throat.

“ Cal .” Lola squeezes my hand, her voice soft.

“I don’t want to be another person who leaves him,” I rush out. “He’s had enough of that.

Understanding dawns on Lola’s face. “It’s good for him to spend the night with T.J. and Sully. They’re his family too.”

Like she’s pressed on a valve, the anxiety seeps out of me.

This woman always knows just what to say. More importantly, she knows kids, and when it comes to Murphy, I have every confidence that she knows what’s best.

“Also.” Her tone is stern now, like she really wants me to pay attention to this part, “it’s good for him to see you leave. This way he’ll learn that when you do, you’ll come back.”

I sigh and relax a little in my seat. She’s right. Because I’ll always come back. Murphy is stuck with me for life, and I’ll make sure he knows that.

“Tomorrow,” she adds. “First thing in the morning.”

I grin at her, feeling lighter. “Sometime tomorrow.”

“First thing. You promised. ”

I shrug. “We could have breakfast first. Maybe go to the Revs game. Tomorrow’s game is at home.”

“ Cal. ” There’s that growly little ball of energy again.

The helicopter lifts off then, and Lola hisses, then mutters a “shit,” squeezing my hand so tight I think I might lose blood flow.

Chuckling, I pry myself free and grasp it with my other hand, then tug her close and slip my arm around her. The armrest between us makes it a little uncomfortable, but I allow the metal to dig into my hip so that I can hold her and press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve got you. You’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t pull back. In fact, I could almost swear she relaxes into my embrace. And I like that a bit too much.

Landing goes about as well as takeoff did. Eyes screwed shut and shaking like a feather, Lola allows me to lead her down the three steps off the helicopter.

Our driver awaits, and as he navigates through Boston, she checks emails and I confirm that Sloane hasn’t forgotten to pick up Murphy.

She assures me that she’s got it all under control, reminding me that she’s been raising T.

J. all these years without incident. Somewhat mollified, I settle back in my seat and will my body to relax.

The hotel reminds me of Europe. Practically every surface is marble, and the ceilings are covered in incredible artwork. The chandeliers offer little light but plenty of charm.

At the front desk, an attendant greets us with a smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, how was your travel here?” He holds out a tray, offering us glasses of champagne.

I take a sip of mine, strangely thrilled by the way he addressed us.

Mrs. Murphy. I’ve never really considered having a Mrs. Murphy. Never thought I’d meet a woman interesting enough to hold my attention for more than a few days.

But Lola? Though it may have only hit me recently, I can’t deny she’s had it for eight years. Since the day my father called me into his office and introduced me to his new paralegal.

I’ve always been interested. Now, though, it’s become an infatuation. Maybe the Jersey air has done something to my head.

Slowly, I take another sip of my champagne, relishing the crisp flavor. I don’t mind feeling this way at all. Maybe we’ll just stay in Jersey.

Movement beside me catches my eye, and when I glance at Lola, I nearly choke on my drink.

She scowls at me, then at the man across the counter. “Not Mrs. Murphy. I’m Lola Caruso, Mr. Murphy’s colleague.”

The man blanches. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I smirk. “I’ll take being mistaken for Mr. Lola Caruso any day of the week.”

Lola huffs out a breath, the sound sending a ridiculous thrill through me.

“Well, right, okay,” the man says.

He’s working through an issue. I can see it in the way his eyes keep darting to the package in his hand.

“If you’re ready, I’ll escort you to your room.”

Lola stiffens beside me. “Rooms.”

“Room,” the man replies.

“ Rooms .” Lola holds the last sound, roomzzz .

“ Room .” The man holds up the room key. “There is only one.”

“No.” Lola shakes her head and looks at me, fire in her eyes. “No.”

“Yes, unfortunately we’re completely sold out.”

“This is?—”

Before Lola can rant at this poor guy who’s just trying to do his job, I grab the key from him. “Perfect. I’ll take it from here. ”

He rounds the desk, smoothing out his vest. “Please, let me show you to your room.”

With a shake of my head, I slip him a hundred quid and step back. No need for him to experience the ball of fury she’s morphed into. It’ll be easier to calm her down without him present.

“Cal,” she hisses as I start toward the lift.

I hold out a hand, waiting for her to follow. She doesn’t give it to me but her feet clap angrily against the marble floor as she follows along.

“I’m sure there are two beds. It’ll be fine,” I assure her as I step up to the lift.

She lets out a scoff, arms crossed. “You think Sully requested two beds for his anniversary weekend?”

“Things aren’t going well for them.” I shrug. “They’re going through something, remember?”

“Divorce.” She huffs. “Not something. They’re getting divorced.”

When the stainless steel doors part, she stomps through them.

I follow, check the number on the card the man handed me, and press the button to send us to the fifth floor. “That’s to be determined.”

“Oh my God, you’re just as delusional as he is.”

I sigh. Fucking Sully. Things were going so well.

As soon as we step out into the hall, she snatches the key from my hand and storms away.

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch up,” I call after her. She doesn’t spare me a glance.

I find the door wide open, and inside, she’s standing in the middle of the room, her eyes wide and her chest heaving.

Yup, Sully really went all out for his anniversary.

If looks could kill, I’d be laid out right here in the entry. Lola balls her fists and growls, “This is not going to work.”