by Lane Hart
“Well, I think we should get a DNA test for you too to make sure,” I challenge, not to be an ass but because I don’t want there to be any doubt.
“You can’t be serious!”
“I’m very serious, woman. This is a kid’s life we’re talking about. We can’t just bounce him around from one person to the next.”
“You’re right,” she says while standing with Brady and walking toward the kitchen. I follow behind her and see her pick up her cell phone from the counter. “We need to get attorneys to figure all this out. I’ll call mine.”
“Holy shit,” I mutter, running my fingers over my Mohawk. “I didn’t say we had to pull out the big guns.”
Leaning against the counter with Brady still on her shoulder she says to me, “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’re not leaving this house with my nephew. I’m guessing you don’t know a thing about babies either, do you?”
“I’m learning,” I reply defensively. “And I have help, a full-time nanny.”
“Some stranger you’re just gonna leave him with all day while you go gallivanting around? I don’t think so.”
“Gallivanting?” I repeat with both my eyebrows raised in offense. “I think you mean working.”
“I thought you said you’re a football player.”
“I am.”
“So then you can’t really call that work,” she remarks, making me gasp.
“Woman, did you seriously just insult my profession?” I ask. “You have no idea how hard I work, the hours and effort I put in to be one of the best quarterbacks in the entire country!”
“It’s still just a game,” she raises her chin defiantly and answers with a shrug.
“A game they pay me millions of dollars to play,” I argue, but she doesn’t even flinch at the mention of my bankrolls or look impressed. “So you know what that means, don’t you?” I ask.
“What?” she asks on a heavy sigh. “You have more money than sense?”
“I have a shitload more money to spend on lawyers,” I say while pulling out my cell phone from my pocket.
“You’re such a giant prick!” she shouts, loud enough to cause Brady to wake up and start fussing. “Get out of my house!”
Having a woman try to get rid of me is a completely new experience. Getting insulted is a first too.
“Give me back my s…supposed son, and I’ll leave,” I say, barely catching my slip of calling him mine until those results come back. “And lower your voice, woman. You’re upsetting him.”
“Ugh! I’m calling the police to report you for trespassing!” she threatens while her fingers start pressing buttons on her phone.
“And I’m calling the police to report you for kidnapping,” I counter while scrolling through my contacts to find my contract attorney’s number. I doubt he will be of any help in this situation, but hopefully, Brian can get me a quick referral.
Noticing the time on my phone, I realize just how fucked I am. It’s almost eleven o’clock. I’m supposed to be at the stadium watching tapes with the rest of the team in three hours.
Maybe I’m wrong, but I have a feeling that it’s gonna take more than three hours to settle a custody dispute for a baby without a legal name.
Wandering off down the hall, I find an empty bedroom for some privacy, doubting the woman would let me back inside the house if I step outside to make a call. I try Lathan first since he’s also a team captain, but he doesn’t answer. Nixon doesn’t either, so I reach out to Roxy. She thankfully answers on the third ring.
“How’s it going, baby daddy?” she asks.
“Not good. Can you tell Coach that I’ve got a…situation that needs to be handled and I’ll be in early tomorrow morning to watch the films before practice?”
“Oh, so you want me to be the one he yells at and loses his shit on?” she asks.
“Yeah, sorry,” I tell her with a cringe. “I tracked down Brady’s mother…”
“Oh good!” she exclaims.
“She’s dead, Roxy,” I tell her softly. “After she left Brady with me, she overdosed Saturday night.”
“Oh no! That’s awful.”
“It is,” I agree. “So now I’m here at her sister’s house, and she’s refusing to let me leave with Brady. Since I don’t want to play tug of war with the kid or leave him here until I know whether or not he’s mine, we’re gonna have to get attorneys to figure it all out.”
“Wow, that sounds rough. I’ll cover for you, but you better get in here tomorrow morning, or you’re gonna be screwed.”
“I will,” I promise her. “God, I can’t wait for those results.”
“How much longer do you have?” Roxy asks.
“Probably until Thursday or Friday. I don’t know what I’m gonna do with this woman until then. She’s…feisty.”
“Feisty?” Roxy repeats.
“She socked me in my mouth!” I reply indignantly. “And, um, she turned me down for a lunch date. First time in the last forty-seven attempts since I’ve been keeping count.”
“Some woman hit you and turned you down?” she repeats. “Is she old and ugly?”
“Neither.”
“You mean the mythical creature who doesn’t swoon at the sight of Quinton Dunn actually exists?”
“She does. I mean, she’s cute and petite, and she really doesn’t like me. I’m afraid things might get ugly, and she’ll claw my eyeballs out.”
Roxy giggles. “Sounds like you’ve met your match.”
“I definitely have my work cut out for me.”
“That’s what you wanted, right? A challenge? The thrill of the chase?”
Just the thought of having to woo, to pursue a woman who hates me, has my blood pumping with an excitement that rivals stepping out onto the field before a game. I wanted Callie before she turned me down. What man wouldn’t? She’s sexy as hell. The problem is, I slept with her sister, who she just lost. She blames me for knocking Bianca up, and that’s not gonna be something to easily overcome. But hell if I’m not anxious to try.
“What do I do?” I ask Roxy.
“What do you mean, what do you do?”
“I haven’t asked a woman out since my senior prom. How do I get her to change her mind?”
“I don’t know. Be nice to her? Don’t use any of your ridiculous pick-up lines? Let her get to know you? Try and get to know her?” she suggests.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll try all that,” I say.
If every other woman in the world wants me, how hard can it be to convince this one woman to cave?
Callie
“Your honor, my client is better suited to be appointed the custodian of this child. As you’ll see on the exhibits I’ve submitted, Mrs. Clarke has been previously vetted carefully for numerous adoption agencies, who all deemed her more than fit to be a mother,” Amy Eastwood, my attorney, argues while we stand in an emptying courtroom late Tuesday afternoon.
The gray fox of a judge clears his throat before responding. “While I can certainly understand your position, counselor, the fact is that this court doesn’t have any grounds on which to allow custody to Mrs. Clark nor Mr. Dunn until the DNA test results are submitted. Therefore, unless the two parties can agree to an out of court arrangement until then, I’m afraid I’ll be forced to place the child in the custody of the State-”
“NO!”
The jerk and I both shout, interrupting the judge with our strong disagreement for that particular outcome. Even the cocky asshole is obviously aware of how god-awful it would be for that poor baby to be handed over to an overcrowded, shitty social services office.
“Your honor, Mr. Dunn has an endless amount of resources with which to take care of the child rather than putting more stress on our state’s already depleted public service,” the giant prick’s attorney argues. “Mr. Dunn immediately sought the evaluation of a board-certified pediatrician who estimated that the child in question is only days old, much too young and fragile to enter the custody of the st
ate.”
“While I certainly appreciate your enthusiasm for your client, Mr. Billingsley, I cannot grant custody to a party based on financial means alone,” the judge argues, looking over his bifocals at us. “Now, I’m going to recess court for fifteen minutes; and when I get back, I hope both parties will have disappeared so that I won’t be forced to put a newborn in child protective custody.”
“All rise. This honorable court will remain in recess for fifteen minutes,” the bailiff calls out as the judge stands and then disappears through the door behind the bench.
“I’m sorry, Callie,” Amy sits back down in her seat and says quietly to me. “You and Dunn need to figure something out because I would hate to see this little guy get lost in the system. The fact of the matter is, as of right now, neither of you have any rights to him. We don’t even have a birth certificate for chrissakes.”
“Ugh, why did my sister have to go and pull this shit?” I grumble. “Bianca should have brought him to me, and we wouldn’t even be standing here!”
“Well, if the DNA says that Dunn is the biological father, he has a right to full custody of his son,” Amy whispers quietly. “Basically you have two options, Callie. Either you can keep throwing away your money on my legal fees with a very good chance of walking away empty handed on anything but maybe infrequent visitation, or you can make nice with Dunn. See if you can convince him to voluntarily agree to some type of custody arrangement while simultaneously digging for as much dirt on him as you can. Unless we can provide evidence to the court for why Dunn shouldn’t have custody, you’re shit out of luck, girl.”
Groaning, I lower my face into my palms, fighting back the tears that burn my eyes.
Dammit, Bianca! You knew how much I wanted a baby, how long I’ve tried to get pregnant! Is that why you did this? To hurt me more than you already have by destroying my marriage?
With an exhale, I lift my head and look at my nephew, who is sleeping peacefully in his carrier, while trying to figure out my next step. I don’t care what the DNA tests show. Even if he came from the sperm of some rich, foolish playboy, this baby belongs with me, far away from a life that’s probably nothing but partying and screwing random women…which gives me an idea.
“What kind of evidence would you need for me to win custody?” I ask my attorney while staring across the courtroom at the arrogant football player dressed in a suit that probably cost more than my car.
“Anything that would make him unfit to be a father,” Amy answers with a shrug as she stands up and starts packing up her files into her briefcase. “You know, something serious like heavy alcohol or substance abuse, blatant promiscuity, child abuse or neglect…”
The hamsters in my head all jump on their wheels at the same time as a plan begins to form. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make this motherless boy mine. I already love him after only spending a few hours with him today, and I can’t imagine handing him back over to a stranger.
“When you say evidence of those things, you mean, like, proof? Pictures, videos, witness statements?” I ask Amy.
“Exactly,” she says with a nod. “But for now, let’s find an empty conference room so we can try and negotiate a temporary resolution.”
Chapter Eight
Quinton
“My client insists that he retain custody in his residence until we receive the test results,” my attorney, Joseph Billingsley, says to the two women sitting across from us, Callie and her lawyer whose name I’ve already forgotten.
“Your client has to be willing to compromise, or we’ll go right back in that courtroom–” Callie’s attorney starts to argue before Callie places her hand on the sleeve of the woman’s suit jacket to interrupt her.
“It’s okay, Amy,” Callie tells her attorney softly, the anger from earlier absent from her naturally beautiful face. In fact, her stormy green eyes now look…calculating. Oh fuck. “I can agree to those terms with certain conditions,” Callie declares unexpectedly.
“Well, okay then. What conditions?” Joseph asks, leaning across the table on his forearms to show his interest in her offer.
“I want Mr. Dunn to allow me unrestricted, unlimited access to the baby,” Callie clarifies while her eyes are locked on mine.
Joseph turns to face me with his eyebrows raised in questions, so I nod my agreement.
“We can agree to that, but only during the hours of nine a.m. to –” Joseph starts.
“No, she can see him whenever she wants,” I interrupt. “Until we come back to court next week with both sets of test results, and as long as he remains in my custody.”
“Agreed,” Callie answers almost too easily.
“And are you two sure you can behave yourselves? Because I would hate to end up back here with the judge taking the baby away,” Callie’s attorney says.
“No more squabbling from me,” Callie replies with her palms raised in the air.
“Good. Me either,” I agree.
“Well, I’m glad we got this worked out. Amy, can you draft up a document for both of them to sign?” my attorney asks.
“Sure,” the woman replies with a fake smile. “I would be happy to do your job for you, Joe.”
“Hey, now!” Joseph starts, but I clear my throat in warning.
“You and your client can stop by the office on the way home,” Callie’s lawyer says as she and Callie stand to leave.
The attorney is already out the door while Callie stares silently down at Brady sleeping in his seat for several long moments before she walks out reluctantly.
“Wow, that went easier than expected,” Joseph tells me.
“Yeah, a little too easy,” I agree as I recall the angry, shouting woman from earlier. That Callie wasn’t as scary as the one who just agreed to leave Brady behind with me.
“You didn’t have to agree to anything,” Joseph says. “That woman doesn’t have a leg to stand on, and her attorney knows it.”
“I don’t mind. Her sister just died suddenly, so it doesn’t feel right to take him away from her too,” I reply.
“Well, just watch your back. Domestic cases can get ugly, especially where child custody is concerned. I wouldn’t put anything past a woman who has spent years trying to adopt without success before filing for divorce. She’s obviously desperate to have children.”
“Whoa, divorce?” I repeat in surprise. “You mean Callie was married?”
“Nope,” Joseph answers with a smile. “She is currently married. According to the court docs I dug up this afternoon, she and her husband have been separated for almost a year. The divorce should be finalized soon.”
“Huh,” I mutter in surprise. “Did it say why they’re divorcing?”
“The same reason most marriages end,” he tells me. “Adultery.”
Damn. Callie’s husband cheated on her? What an idiot. And then her sister up and dies from a drug overdose, leaving behind her baby with me, a stranger rather than her own blood. No wonder the woman was so angry this morning.
I don’t like seeing Callie upset. She deserves some happiness in her life after all she’s been through. And now, more than ever, with all the odds stacked against me, I want to wear her down until she actually agrees to date me. I’m a competitor at heart, and no one has ever said no to me before today. Or punched me. That was definitely a first I think as I reach up to rub my still slightly aching chin. Thank goodness she’s not a very big woman or I would probably have one hell of a knot by now.
Callie’s feistiness is hot, and I’ll do anything to get her into my bed, anything except give her the one thing she wants, full custody of my son. If he’s mine, I’ll let her see him whenever she wants, which means I get to spend time with her too. But how long will it take before she turns against me for not letting her have him?
This might be harder than I thought to pull off.
A few hours later, Callie, Brady and I walk back into my house and are instantly greeted by Kelsey and the delicious smell of…
&n
bsp; “Did you cook a roast?” I ask Kelsey as my stomach growls. After our long day, I’ve barely had anything to eat since the breakfast she made me.
“Yeah, with carrots and potatoes. Hope that’s okay?” the young girl asks shyly.
“Hell yeah, that’s okay. You’re the best, Kelsey,” I tell her.
“How did everything go?” she asks, looking between me and Callie, Brady’s car seat sitting on the floor in between us.
“Brady’s staying here for now. And, Kelsey, this is Callie, potentially his aunt, so she’ll be visiting…”
“Brady? Why do you keep calling him that?” Callie turns and asks me. “I thought there wasn’t a birth certificate.”
“There’s not, but I wanted to call him something other than him,” I clarify.
“That’s a horrible name,” the woman says, more of her annoyance from earlier dripping through her momentary agreeability.
“I like it,” Kelsey jumps in and says in my defense. “It’s a cute name.”
“Thanks,” I tell her with a wink.
“Do you want me to get Brady changed? When did he last eat?” Kelsey asks as she starts toward his car seat to scoop him up.
“I’ll do it,” Callie snaps at her, bending down to pick up the car seat first. Kelsey gives me a wide-eyed, confused and questioning look, but I just shake my head and hand her the diaper bag to refill.
“The formula is running a little low and so are the diapers,” I tell her.
“I’ll get it restocked,” she says before Callie jerks the bag from my hand.
“I’ve got it,” she answers. “Now where’s his room?”
“That would be in my room,” I tell her. “Let me show you the way. Kelsey, can you go ahead and get some plates and everything out for dinner?” I ask her since I already know after just a few days together that the girl likes to constantly be helpful. She just runs around the house in circles if I don’t give her something to do.
“Sure thing, Boss,” Kelsey says before speed walking in the direction of the kitchen.
“You don’t have to be so rude to her. She’s just trying to help,” I tell Callie as I show her the way down the hall to the master bedroom. I even let her carry Brady in the car seat since she’s made it abundantly clear she wants to do it herself.
