Page 25 of Second Shot

His laughter is infectious. It always has been. And I can’t help the tug at mylips.

“But honestly, Brynne, I think he’ll just be glad to know you’reokay.”

I don’t know how, after all these years, Kane still doesn’t see my father for who he really is. Cold. Cruel. With no love for hischildren.

“If he really wanted to find me, he wouldhave.”

Carefully, Kane places Noah back in his crib. “Maybe.”

He takes a step towards me, and I take one back, making him shake his head. “Do I really scare you thatmuch?”

“You don’t scare me.”Lie.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re terrified of how I make youfeel.”

“This isn’t aboutus.” I take another step back, even though he hasn’t moved an inch. But I don’t trust myself if he touches me again. “If you really want to be a part of Noah’slife-”

“I do. And I will be. That’s not up fordebate.”

My fingers itch at my sides. I ball them into fists, shifting under Kane’s gaze, not knowing what to say or donext.

I can practically see the plan formulating in Kane’s brain. How he’ll get what he wants. What he’ll need to do to getit.

“Then I guess we should talk details.” I walk over to the miniature fridge and pull out two beers, handing one to Kane when heapproaches.

He stares down at it with afrown.

“You can come see him. We’ll figure out aschedule-”

“Is my name on his birthcertificate?”

Shit. “No.”

The muscle in his jaw bunches and flexes, and his lips tighten in a thin line, before he says, “We’ll need to fixthat.”

Which means everyone willknow.

“If the media findsout…”

“Whenthe media finds out, we’ll deal withit.”

This is exactly what I didn’twant.

“No,I’llhave to deal with it. You’re used to being in the spotlight. That’s not my life. I don’t want paparazzi waiting outside my apartment to get a shot of The Golden Boy’s bastardkid.”

“Don’t use that word.” Anger flashes in his face and he points his finger atme.

I swat it away, then push on his chest, one hand still clutching my beer. “You better get used to it, because if you make your big announcement, they’ll be calling him, and me, a lotworse.”

He grips my wrists, and leans down so our noses are almost touching. “Not if we’remarried.”

Married. The word hangs in the air betweenus.

A thrill of excitement mixes with shock. I blink up at him, hating that for even a second I think about the possibility. It’sabsurd.

“You’re kidding?” The words come out shaky andstrained.

“No.” He wraps his fingers around my beer, and we do a little tug-of-war with it before I finally let go with an exaggerated sigh. He takes a deep swig, then places it on the counter behind me, his body brushing against mine as he leansover.

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