Page 1 of Winning Brynn

Chapter One

Leo

"If you give methe job, it would be my pleasure to return the favor."

The woman sitting across from me, whose name I've already forgotten, leans across my oakwood desk and winks. Her red dress is a beacon of my despair, glaring at me against the soft-white walls of my office. It’s an incredibly inappropriate choice of interview wear, but I guess that was her intention.

Tempting as I'm sure she believes the offer is, it does nothing but cause irritation to creep over me like a rash that won't stop itching. She is the fifth person I've interviewed today, and not a single one of them has given me the confidence that I can trust them to care for my one-year-old daughter.

Three have propositioned me, one going so far as to pass me her underwear while I asked her about her views on gentle discipline. She'd looked me straight in the eye and told me to take her over my knee to see for myself. Then there'd been the retired schoolteacher who'd spent ten minutes lamenting the outlawing of corporal punishment. And finally, a middle-aged man on the sex offenders register, whom I'd promptly reported to the police.

At this rate, I'll be doing soccer practice with my daughter, Salem, strapped to my chest in a sling—which wouldn’t be too far off what I had to do last season.

"That's kind of you, but I already have a job."

"I meant a blow—"

"I know what you meant," I cut her off and slap my knees before standing up. "But sadly, I'll have to decline your offer at this time."

Pouting, she spins in her chair but doesn't make a move to get up. Instead, she uncrosses her legs, bare beneath her short dress, and spreads them to reveal her misguided decision to go commando this afternoon.

Lord Almighty.

Lips spreading wide across veneers that weren't worth the money, she trails her fingers up her thigh and bats her eyelashes.

I avert my gaze, studying the titles on the bookshelves that line the back wall, as if I didn’t personally buy every single one of them. Not that I’ve had a chance to read anything since I became a father last year, but it’s nice to have them there when I’m ready for them. "If you care to save yourself any further embarrassment, Kylie, I'd strongly suggest you leave now."

"It's Kayley," she corrects, snapping her legs closed but still not getting up.

My eyes roll. My control snaps. My sanity left with the sex-offender.

I've been professional up until this point. I've turned down the three women who came before her with grace, I handled the child-beater with dignity, and I didn't even punch Steve the sex offender in the face, despite how much I wanted to. But unfortunately for Kylie/ Khloe/ Kourtney, whatever the hell her name is, I've run out of fucks to give.

"I don't care."

Finally,she stands up. Stomping over to where I stand by the door with my nose pinched between two fingers, she slaps a cold hand across my cheek. It isn't the first time I've ever been slapped by a woman, and I imagine it won't be the last. It stings, sure. Kaitlin has one hell of a backhand, but it's got nothing on the pain a desperate soccer player can inflict when they're losing a game.

"Now might be a good time to tell you about my security cameras." I flick my gaze to the corner of the room where the red light blinks dutifully down at us. "I have no problem turning over footage to the cops."

Her face flames as red as her dress, her eyes glazing with thunder. "Screw you, Sully."

First of all, only my teammates call me Sully. And second, if she had any desire for the job at all, she'd be calling me Mr. Sullivan. Though, she’s made it pretty clear that the only thing she desires from this interview is me.

Before I was thrown ass over tit into fatherhood, I might have even gone along with it.

Losing myself inside nameless women was my favorite way to spend a weekend, but the arrival of Salem into my life brought with it an inescapable need for self-reflection. Finding myself suddenly responsible for a tiny life forced me to hold a mirror to myself, and as much as it hurts to admit, I didn't like what I saw staring back at me. Fucking and discarding women was suddenly no longer appropriate—or even possible.

After all, if you want to be perpetually cockblocked, get yourself a kid.

The point is, how could I raise a woman if I barely respected them?

Of course, I didn't anticipate that a year of abstinence would ensue, but truthfully, I've barely had a moment over the past twelve or so months to even think about pursuing someone, let alone have the energy for it.

Even now, with a beautiful woman practically throwing herself at me, I couldn't be less interested. As convenient as it may be, if I went along with it, it would only be for the purpose of emptying myself inside a warm body instead of the palm of my hand. It wouldn't be because I liked her or even cared enough about her to know her name.

I'd be using her, simple as that.

I’m not okay with doing that anymore. Not when I have a little girl learning what to expect from a man through watching how her daddy treats women.

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