Page 19 of Christmas with the Baby Daddy

I bit my lip.Because theyarefamily.Amanda acted like a cool aunt with George, and that was precisely what she was.

“Can you explain something? I’m already on my way to the school, but, uh, what?”

“Someone else was here to speak with Cole. And while he was waiting, he got the gist of Brent and George fighting and somehow put the fear of God into that kid. Brent. Not George.”

Wow. Someone not afraid to discipline Brent Francis. Amazing.“Okay, who is this hero so I can thank him for doing the impossible?”

“Um, I’m not sure you’ll be in a rush to say anything to him.”

I furrowed my brow. “Why?”

“Because I think you were the one who said, and I quote, ‘I’ll never speak to Zachary West again.’”

I gasped. “What?”

“Zachary West.”

I blinked as my heart raced at the mere mention of his name. “Zach?” At the school? Intervening between his son he didn’t know he had and the bully?

I spluttered, unable to speak. Yet, I sped ahead, anxious to get to the scene and do damage control with that man learning that I had a son.

8

ZACH

Brent scowled at me. “Who the heck areyou?”

I raised one brow as I turned to face the blond kid, unamused with this punk’s tone. That attitude rubbed me the wrong way, and I racked my brain for how an adult was supposed to deal with a brat. I came up empty. My experience with kids was nil.

“Brent Francis,” the receptionist, Sara, scolded, “you watch your attitude. And need I remind you that you need to be quiet while you wait for Principal Cole?”

“Francis?” I narrowed my eyes, hoping this secretary was wrong. “BrentFrancis?”

She cringed and nodded.

My annoyance kicked up a notch. I was in full-on aggravated mode now.

“Yeah. I’m Brent Francis.” Brent puffed out his chest and smirked like he looked cooler, superior.

The whole damn family was far too full of themselves, but if this kid was a Francis, that meant his mother had to be Reagan Francis. The cheerleading snob. The prom queen. The snubbing, mean-spirited girl who was infatuated with the thought of being my high school sweetheart. I settled and caved to date her for a while, but when she cheated on me, I went from tolerating her to not wanting her in my presence at all.

And that meant the raised voice of a woman yelling at Cole in his office had to belong to her.

That’s fucking great.

A deep sigh gusted out of me, and I rubbed my brow to ease the tension building there and warning of a headache. I’d just managed to get away from her since my return to town. When she cornered me at Coach Parker’s party, she stopped me from going back to check on Blake in the kitchen.

I swore I still felt her clinging touch as she tried to hang off me and hug me. Touching my face, like she had any right to get up close and cozy with me. Reagan Francis had staying power—and not in a good way. More like a bad dream you can’t shake away.

Running into her again wasn’t high on my list of things to deal with. Her personal brand of homecoming welcome was something I could do without for the rest of my life.

“Now it’s making more sense,” I muttered.

“What is?” George asked.

“Who’s talking to you, moron?” Brent sneered at him.

I turned to George, not giving the punk my attention. That was what he wanted. Attention. Power. Anything to make him feel bigger and better than anyone else. Slanting toward George, I stage whispered. “Now it makes sense why he’s such a whiny punk.”

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