Page 37 of Who’s Your Daddy (Dadcoms #1)

Lola

“ B uluga Gold, huh?” I sidle up to the counter across from Brian as he pours vodka over ice.

After two extra chapters of The Lightning Thief I finally convinced Murphy to close his eyes. And when his breathing evened out, I snuck out of his room.

Cal still isn’t home, so that leaves me alone with the one person I don’t think I’m up for talking to tonight.

I understand rules and the reasons behind the policy.

I even understand Brian’s desire to look out for the firm, and probably me too.

But he’s overstepped, and it’s time for him to back off. We are more than past that point.

“I didn’t think I’d convince you to sit and have a drink with me if I offered you the cheap stuff.” He fills a second glass, his pour a little lighter this time, then adds a splash of club soda and a lime.

When he slides it across the counter, I look from him to it and back again. Does he really think I’ll just pick it up and tap my glass to his, forgetting all about the way he threatened my job? Is this really the best he’s got?

I sure as hell hope not.

Arms crossed, I take a step back, waiting for a real apology.

“Gonna waste it?” He grunts .

“Maybe.” I lock eyes with him, lips pressed together.

He holds my gaze for the space of several heartbeats before he bows his head and watches the clear liquid in his glass slosh as he swirls it.

I inhale a cleansing breath, determined not to back down.

I want to be here. Not in this kitchen with Brian, but in this apartment where Murphy sleeps soundly, where Cal will return to when he’s finished tonight.

I’ll give Brian a chance. But if he doesn’t pull himself together and own up to his mistakes, then I’ll wait in Cal’s room alone.

The ice clanks against the glass as Brian lifts it to his lips. After a long sip, he sets the drink on the counter. “It’s a company policy?—

With a huff, I turn away. The pretense is ridiculous. This man knows me. He’s a friend. A person I’ve always thought I could count on.

Before I can stomp away, he sighs and says, “Lo, wait.”

Despite how sick I am of the way he’s dragging this out, I give him a minute while he scrubs a hand down his face, collecting his thoughts.

“We need you.” His shoulders droop. “The firm needs you. I need you.”

I step up to the counter again, hands splayed on the Formica. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He zeroes in on me, challenge in his eyes, though the words come out low, halting, like he hates them even as he says them. “And when things go bad with Cal, when he moves on to the next woman, you’re telling me that you won’t be hurt? That you won’t want to leave?”

I choke back a retort. Snapping back will only make me sound like every other dumb girl in history.

So with a slow sip of vodka, I collect my thoughts. It burns down my throat, and when the sensation dissipates, what’s left behind is the same feeling that’s lingered all day. Certainty. The highball glass clinks against the counter as I slam it down .

Frustration floods through my veins. How could this man I’ve trusted so completely try to cloud my mind with doubts like this?

“What Cal and I have is different. He’s different. And you should pay attention to that.”

He lets out a humorless laugh.

“Seriously. He’s not going to hurt me.” The sureness of the statement settles through me as I voice the sentiment.

Forearms on the counter, he hangs his head, like he’s weighed down by the conversation. Rather than fight back like I expect, he shakes his head.“That’s good because I’d hate to break his pretty face.”

I snort.

“We redheads have to stick together, you know.” He smirks, a hint of light returning to those golden eyes.

I shake my head, softening a little. “Dylan and I are redheads. You got the annoyingly perfect chestnuty auburn color I always wished for.”

“Nah.” He chuckles and lifts his glass. “You burn too brightly for that.” He downs another mouthful of liquor. “Plus, Cal likes redheads.”

At the sound of a throat clearing behind us, I whip around.

Cal stands across the room, his hair sticking up all over like he’s run his hands through it. His tie is loose and the top button of his shirt is undone. The less than perfect presentation looks damn good on him.

“Cal likes this redhead.” Pointing at me, he drops his briefcase on the Ping-Pong table and stalks across the room.

Warmth blooms in my chest. His presence used to annoy me, set me off, but now it’s like my favorite hoodie. A comfort I long to come home to and snuggle up with.

“ Just this redhead.” He bands a strong arm around my waist and pulls me in until my back is flush with his chest and his lips are pressed to the crown of my head. “ Always this one.” The words dance across my scalp, and I shiver .

“How long have you been here?” The contentment his presence brings is stamped out by fear. Because Brian’s comments were not complimentary. I can only imagine how upsetting they’d be.

But the unease is wiped away as he tightens his arm around me.

“Long enough, Lola. Long enough.”

“Well.” Brain clears his throat and sets his now-empty glass of vodka on the counter, still hunched over. “I guess I’ll leave you two be.”

“In the general sense or for now?” Cal’s voice lacks its normal lightness.

“Both.” He pushes off the counter, his eyes a little bloodshot.

“Lo, I’m sorry I was a dick.” He gives me a quick smile, though when his gaze slides to Cal, his lips turn down.

“And dumbass you better be as devoted as she believes you are. If you hurt her, I will break your very straight nose and then I’ll be forced to let her leave before her ninety days are up. ”

Rather than bristle, Cal laughs. “Won’t be an issue.”

“I’m good here,” I say. “Promise.”

Brian shakes his head. “Who are you and what have you done with my paralegal? Are you seriously choosing to stay in Jersey for Cal ?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I mutter.“But at least I can see the skyline from my window.”

Behind me, Cal’s chest puffs out. “Because I picked a good flat.”

I pat the arms still banded around me. “Yeah, babe, you picked a good one.”

He gasps, squeezing me a little too tight. “Did you hear that? Babe. I’ve got a nickname. It means she’s getting attached.” He practically vibrates behind me. “I like it.”

This man is ridiculous. I have a feeling I’ll be rolling my eyes at him even more than in the past.

With a huff of a laugh, Brian shakes his head. “And with that, I’m out.” He sets his empty glass in the sink and pads toward his room.

As soon as his door clicks shut, Cal spins me around and cages me in with my back pressed to the island. “Before I get too excited about all of this, what exactly does it mean that I walked in and found you here?”

His blue eyes dance down like he knows the answer to the question, but he’s going to make me say the words out loud.

“It means,” I say, walking my fingers up the front of his white button-down.“We’re giving this a try.” I stop at the knot of his tie and loosen it. “You’re going to see if you can be in a relationship. You might hate it.”

He scoffs, his expression one of offense. “I will not.”

I purse my lips to hide my grin. “You have to use your words. Talk to me.”

He breaks into a blinding smile, as if my statement isn’t the least bit off-putting. “Oh my God are we doing the thing ?”

“What thing?” Is he complaining? Already?

“The thing.” With a waggle of his brows, he pushes off the counter. He mutters to himself about the thing as he rifles through the drawers in the kitchen. He opens one after another and eventually sighs in resignation, apparently not finding what he wants. “The thing with the Post-it.”

“Post-it?” I frown. All this excitement over a Post-it? I still haven’t caught up to the thing , and now he’s moved on to sticky notes?

“Yes, we need a Post-it? You always have them.” He stalks over to me and cups my face.

True. At my desk. But I don’t carry a stack in my purse or anything.

“Cal.” I grasp his wrists. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He drops a kiss to my nose, murmuring about freckles, then pulls back again.

“You know the show with the doctors.” He squints, wearing a look of concentration he usually reserves for poring over a case file.

“Fuck.” He shakes his head, a whisp of his dark hair falling over his brow.

“You know the one. Sloaney made us watch ten seasons when she was pregnant with T. J. and on bed rest.”

His face is fixed in a look of expectation, like he’s sure I’ll understand, but I still don’t have any idea what the fuck he’s talking about.

“The show with the docs,” he says, desperation lacing every word. “That dreamy guy.”

I bark out a laugh. “McDreamy? Like Grey’s Anatomy?” I’ve seen episodes here and there, but I have no idea what the television drama has to do with Post-its.

“Yes!” He beams. “The Post-it.”

I still don’t get it, but he’s on a roll, so I don’t bother asking him to explain.

He grasps my hand and kisses my knuckles in the most endearing way. “We need a Post-it for the rules and promises.”

I hate disappointing him when he’s this excited but I can’t help it. “Cal, I don’t have Post-its with me.”

“But.” He smirks. “You’ve probably got loads at your desk downstairs. Come on.” He tugs me down the stairs and into the dark office.

He doesn’t let go until we’re in the conference room and he’s snatching up a stack of Post-its.

“What color?” He fans out the individual stacks. “Choose wisely, because this will be framed on my desk until I retire.”

My nerve endings light up in a way I’ve never experienced. This man’s excitement is contagious. I suppose I just haven’t allowed myself to give in to it until now. “How about the light blue?”

“Perfect.” He peels the top one off and snags a dark blue pen from the table. “So.” He glances up at me, pen poised above the small square of paper, eyes sparkling. “These will be our forever promises. Our vows to each other.”