Page 105 of Who's Your Daddy
Sully lets out a garbled curse. “That’s not appropriate for children.”
“It’s a Disney movie.” Sloane waves a dismissive hand.
Hmm. Then these women must be butchering the storyline. “Go on.”
“But they cast a spell. If a virgin lights their magic candle, they’ll come back to life.”
“A what?” I suck in a breath, clutching my chest, and scan thecrowd for Murphy. Thank fuck he’s across the room running in circles with his friends instead of listening to this shite or watching this abomination of a film.
“Don’t be such a prude.” Lola sticks her tongue out at me.
“You said it’s a Disney film.” Sully’s normally surly demeanor is only intensified by the dark circles painted around his eyes.
Sloane sighs. “It is.”
“What happens after the witches are killed?” I ask. Surely the witches’ curse is reversed by a magical prince who blows rainbows out of his arse or some other nonsense.
“In present-day Salem, a virgin lights their candle. The witches return, but the only way they can stay alive is to suck out the souls of children.”
I stumble back, appalled, though Lola doesn’t notice.
“Right now,” she goes on, smiling at the film screen, “the witches are singing to put a spell on all the parents at the party. Once they’ve put them all to sleep, they’ll go fly and try to take the lives of all their children.”
“That’s abhorrent.” I straighten and scan the people around us. “Excuse me, who here is in charge of this film?”
Lola clutches the lapels of my pinstripe suit jacket and tugs me closer. “What are you doing?”
“The film must be turned off. These kids will have nightmares.”
Head tilted and lips twitching, Lola points at the children who are all smiling, as if they themselves are entranced by the singing evil witches. One of them is even clapping along. “Do they look like they’ll have nightmares?”
I straighten the knot of my tie, frowning down at her. “I’mgoing to have nightmares.”
Lola nuzzles into my side. “I’ll keep you safe from the evil witches, I promise.”
“Cal!” Murphy barrels for me, his tone urgent.
Panic-stricken, I drop to my knees and inspect him, looking for injury. “What’s wrong?”
With the biggest grin I think he’s ever worn, he shakes his head. “They’re doing a father-son relay race, will you do it with me?”
My heart stutters to a stop, then takes off at a run, pounding loud enough to drown out the tune ofMonster Mash.
“You want me to do it with you?” I point to my chest, then look over my shoulder to be sure he isn’t speaking to someone else.
Murphy nods, his expression sobering. “Unless you don’t want to.”
“Oh, I so totally want to.” I yank him to my chest and press my lips to the top of his head.
The little bugger leans into me, I swear, and I tip back. Before I can land on my arse, I catch myself, my smile so wide my cheeks ache. Because my boy just asked me to do a father-son relay race with him. He may not call me dad, but this might be the best moment of my life.
“I can’t believe we didn’t win,” Murphy grumbles as we walk out of the party.
“I can’t believe my hair color came out in the bucket.” I wipe my face with a paper towel to keep the dye from further staining my skin.
When I wiped at my face after I dunked my head in the bucket of water and my hand came away covered in black streaks, I nearly screamed.
Lola laughed so hard she might have peed herself and declared me Zombie Gomez.
