Page 2 of Winning Brynn

"Goodbye, Kendall." The door slams shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silence of the afternoon with a headache booming relentlessly inside my skull.

God, why does this have to be so hard?

I only want someone trustworthy, who doesn’t have a criminal record, to watch my daughter on game days and during soccer practice. The hours are good, and I'm prepared to pay an arm and a fucking leg for the right person.

There are over seven hundred thousand people in Seattle, I only need one of them to be responsible enough to take care of my baby girl. Evidently, though, it’s a tall order. One that can apparently only be fulfilled by the likes of Mary fucking Poppins.

Behind me, the door bangs open again. Turning, I find my best friend standing in the doorway with my daughter perched on his hip. At the sight of me, Salem squeals and holds out her hands. “Dada!”

The room instantly fills with the smell of milky skin and baby lotion. It mixes with the scent of pine cones and cinnamon that floats from the bowl of potpourri my interior designer insisted on keeping on my desk, creating a strange concoction of Christmas and neonates.

Festive babies, that’s what my office smells like.

"Well, if the crying woman I passed in the hall is anything to go by, I'm guessing the search for a nanny isn't going well." Alex grins at me, blue eyes sparkling with amusement, his long hair tied back in a topknot.

He looks like a douchebag.

"You think Coach Carter will let me bring her to practice?" I ask, taking Salem into my arms and pressing my cheek against hers. Her skin is so soft, so warm, and it instantly settles the stress that was coursing through my bloodstream. "I missed you today, baby girl. Have you been good for Uncle Alex?"

"She's always good, aren't you, Say Say?" Leaning forward, he blows raspberries on her belly until she laughs. "But no, man. I don't think Coach would be okay with you bringing her to practice, no matter how much we all love her."

"I'm fucked, then."

Tilting his head to one side, he studies me with scrutiny. "Is there really no one who can do the job? Or are you just being Mr. Protective Daddy Bear, who thinks no one is good enough for his daughter?"

"Sixty percent of the applicants have tried to shag me today. The other forty percent belong in jail."

"Shag,"he repeats in a poor imitation of my accent. "I don't care how long we've known each other, I will never get over your Britishness."

"You really should," I deadpan. "It's been five years."

"Is it weird that Salem will grow up to have an American accent?" he asks with earnest curiosity.

"It is a genuine anxiety of mine."

Alex snorts. "There’s nothing wrong with our accents, dude."

"You literally don't pronounce the T in anything."

“That’s because we threw it in the harbor.” He grins, teeth bared and flickering. He spent a lot of money on those teeth, and he likes to show them off as often as he can.

My office lights flicker as I blink at him. “What?”

“Boston Tea Party joke.” He rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Then you should tell better jokes.”

"Your Daddy's a grump, isn't he, Say?" He nods his head emphatically until she giggles in response and mirrors him.

Huffing, I tickle the baby fat that encompasses her little arms like rubber rings. "Where's your loyalty, baby girl? You're supposed to be on my side."

"Salem is on the side of the truth."

"You cheated." My eyes are beginning to hurt from all the eye rolling I've done today. "Can you watch Say for another hour or so? I need to schedule in some more interviews, if we have any hope of getting a nanny before the season starts."

Alex shakes his head, albeit regrettably, which does little to soften the blow. "Sorry, man, no can do. My sister's flight gets in soon, and I've promised to pick her up from the airport. Maybe Roman can watch her?"

"He can't. I've already asked." Swallowing my frustration, I change the subject. "So where's your sister been now?"

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