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“Sounds good, Mr. Barrett,” I advise him, doing everything I can to avoid looking up at my ex’s brother again. “You can forward the paperwork to me that’s needed and I will get Mr. Marsh’s email address to correspond with him accordingly, Sir.”
The way my boss’s hands come up in from of him, halting my train of thought any further, I can tell I’m not going to like what comes from his mouth next. “Mr. Marsh has requested face-to-face communication,” he explains, giving his new client an encouraging smile to let him know there’s no problem at all with that. “Book a meeting with him sometime tomorrow to go over the particulars with him, please, Corinne.”
“Sorry, Sir, but you have a meeting with our junior associate in the morning and back-to-back court proceedings tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps next week sometime?” Nothing makes me happier in that moment than knowing Brody Marsh isn’t going to get his own way. There’s no room on tomorrow’s schedule, and no way Arnold Barrett can possibly rearrange tomorrow’s docket.
“No problem at all, Corinne,” my boss says just as cheerfully. “He’s already been generous enough to agree to have the meeting with you tomorrow, instead of me directly. Feel free to book it in the afternoon while I’m away—if that suits Mr. Marsh’s own schedule, of course.”
Brody gives my boss a shrug like it’s no big deal. “Tomorrow afternoon works perfectly,” he agrees. His teeth shine as he grins at me, obviously enjoying every minute that the shocked expression remains on my face. “I’m looking forward to it, Corinne. Is it okay for me to call you that?”
He’s goading me, trying to see how far he can push. A memory niggles annoyingly in my mind—Brody Marsh always was sarcastic and pretentious. “Of course. But are you sure you want to—”
“Corinne, I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” he quips. “Let’s book a time for tomorrow, shall we?”
Chapter Two
Brody
I had no idea Corinne Hastings worked at Barrett Law Offices until the moment I entered their building.
But it sure as hell made an otherwise unpleasant task much more interesting.
Her surprise had been evident when she locked eyes with me the first time, but I would have gladly admitted that we knew each other from a few years ago. Sure, things happened between her and my idiot of a younger brother, but that doesn’t mean I would have pretended like I didn’t know her in a public place.
Corinne, on the other hand, obviously doesn’t agree with that logic. So, of course, when she pretended she didn’t know who I was, I had to go along with it. I also had to play it up a little and have some fun with her.
Now, I have an appointment to meet with her tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock. No one else around, no ridiculous pretenses. I would say I’m almost looking forward to it if it didn’t mean I have to explain my sordid life story to the woman.
But that’s what happens when I retain a lawyer to help me gain legal custody of my son.
It isn’t going to be a messy case or anything. Hell, my ex, Charlotte, has already up and screwed off with her latest boytoy, leaving me a signed letter that surrenders her legal rights to Spencer.
That’s right, my four-month-old son and I are on our own because my selfish ex-girlfriend has decided having a baby wasn’t what she wanted.
Being with me wasn’t what she wanted.
It’s not me I worry about, though. It’s my boy. He’s my number one priority, my world.
Just like he should have been for Charlotte. But she’s got better things to do, I guess. Or more men to do. Either way, my son doesn’t need that kind of shit in his life. He doesn’t need inconsistency, someone who is there for him one minute and decides to take a hiatus the next. Spencer deserves better than that.
Which is precisely why I’m making it legal. Charlotte’s letter is enough for me to strip her of her rights to my son, and I can gain sole custody. Then, he and I can continue on exactly as we have been for the past month, just the two of us.
That’s all we need, each other.
Unless, of course, someone else wanted to be in our lives eventually. I don’t mess around, though. Charlotte might like playing games and getting it on with any man who will look at her twice, but I don’t do head games and I don’t sleep around.
That might have been my style a few years ago, but I’ve got Spencer to think about now. And honestly, while Charlotte and I broke up just before she found out she was pregnant, I haven’t been with anyone or even tried to date anyone since I found out my little man was going to be entering this world.
Now, he’s here, and he’s with me. And that’s all that matters.
But I did let one of my friends, a fellow hockey player on my team, coerce me into creating an online dating profile. It’s ridiculous, really. It keeps me entertained in the evenings, though, after Spencer is asleep in his crib. I usually find myself sitting in the leather recliner I love so much, sipping on a short glass of scotch on the rocks—just one to settle my mind and wind down; Spencer doesn’t need to wake up in the middle of the night to a father who’s three sheets to the wind—and scrolling through the messages in my inbox purely for the hell of it.
I only went out on one date since creating that godforsaken profile, and I use that term loosely. It was a disaster. Women seem to think it’s adorable that a man has a kid, but they don’t seem to understand that they will not come first because of that kid. Spencer is, and will always be, my number one priority.
Needless to say, cutting the date short because the babysitter—who just happens to be my mother—called to tell me Spencer wouldn’t go down for the night and she thought maybe he had a fever didn’t go over well. The woman had been polite enough throughout the date, and, sure, she was pretty, but I could tell by the way she did nothing but talking negatively about her exes and kept leaning forward to make sure I was getting an eyeful of her ample cleavage that she wasn’t someone I would be vying to see again, anyway.
She, however, didn’t seem to see our date the same way. After thirteen messages in my inbox on LookingForLove.com, each one getting a bit snarlier and a whole lot more entitled, I sent a message apologizing and explaining that this just wasn’t going to work out. Then I blocked her.
I know, real mature. But, like I said, I don’t do games, and I certainly wasn’t going to sit by and continue to receive angry messages from a desperate woman I had no intentions of seeing again.
