Page 5 of Who's Your Daddy
Amusement courses through me. “Oh, that’s where we’re going this morning.” I huff a laugh. “Did you have a snog with a Brandy last night?”
He scowls, one hand balled into a fist on his desk, the other crinkling the note a bit. “Do I look like I would sleep with a Brandy?”
I take a moment to study him, since that’s what he’s always asking me to do. Take his questions more seriously. Think before I speak. I’d tell him—my brother too—to maybe think a little less and live a little more, but then he’d probably growl again.
He leans forward in his leather chair and I can’t stop staring at the vein in his forehead that’s pulsing aggressively. With red hair that’s a bit deeper in color than Lola’s and that Irish skin tone, I’d say yeah, he looks like the kind of guy who’d shag a Brandy. If she had green eyes and freckles, they’d make cute kids.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tosses the paper onto his perfectly organized desk. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to decide if I think you’d shag a Brandy. And picturing your kids if you did.” I scratch my head. “But in all these years, I’ve never seen you with a woman. Do you date men?”
He scoffs and straightens, his chair squeaking. “Focus, Cal.” Finger tapping the paper, he zeroes in on me. “Seven years ago, did you sleep with a woman named Brandy?”
A hint of confusion worms its way in, but I hold tight to my humor. It’s my go-to response and what he expects from me. “Jesus, take me out for dinner before you get so personal.”
He presses on his temples and rubs aggressively. Then his amber eyes slide shut, a sure sign that he’s trying to keep from yelling.
Fine. Let me think. I exhale and tilt my head. Have I evershagged a Brandy? Fuck, if I know. Andseven years ago.I barely remember what I did last month, let alone who I slept with seven years ago. And why is he asking me such a ridiculous question? We have a new case to get started on. Normally, he and Lola take our emergency guardianship cases more seriously. This guy seems more concerned about my sex life than a poor kid whose world has been turned upside down. Looks like my dad was right. We need to get back to our roots.
He was a cute kid, too. Maybe five or six. Lips pressed together, I survey Brian’s office while I replay the moment I spent with him. Wonder what happened to his parents.
I hope he orders a blue slushie. Then if he doesn’t finish it?—
“She’s a model.”
“Who’s a model?”
“Brandy,” he grits out, his face reddening.
I fight back a scoff. We’re still hung up on her? “I thought you said you’d never sleep with a Brandy?”
“Fuck, Cal you make this difficult.” He throws himself back in his chair.
Difficult? I avoid that kind of shit as much as I can, so honestly, I’m not trying to be.
I replay the last ten minutes again. I walked in here with a kid, handed the note to Lola, who acted like I’d done something wrong—nothing new there—and then Brian asked me if I’d ever slept with a Brandy. No, he asked if I’d slept with a Brandy seven years ago. Seven years?
Could it, no…that’s not…
“According to this note”—he flicks the paper, causing it to move closer to the edge of his desk—“Brandy dropped Murphy Macallister here to be taken care of by his father. Apparently, she got a part in a movie and has to be in Bali for filming. And her opinion is that kids belong in school, not on film sets, so she needs Murphy’s father to take over his care.” Fingers steepled, he leans back in his chair. Hisfocus is intent and fixed on me the entire time, his words slow, precise.
Macallister. Why is that name familiar?“Okay, so we need to search for his father?”
Brian nods, his eyes full of all kinds of unspoken words. I just have no fucking clue what they’re saying.
“His name is Murphy,” he eventually says.
My lips twitch. “It’s a great name.”
“Whose name is Murphy?” The question comes from the door behind me.
I spin and discover my brother Sullivan looming on the threshold.
Blueish silver eyes narrow, and the lines on his forehead bunch as he runs his hand through his salt and pepper hair. I used to tease him about going gray prematurely, but the joke’s no longer funny. He’s aged since Sloane left him. He’s rarely smiled these last few years, but these last few months have been brutal.
“This cute kid who was dropped off at our office for an emergency guardianship.”
Sully’s eyes bore into me. “That’s not how it works.”
