Page 138 of Cockpit
“But I saw Braden . . . and while he’s more than gifted in the looks department, he isn’t my Gray—he isn’t Grayson.” It’s easier to slip into this banter between us than to think about the nerves rattling around inside me.
“Girl,
don’t be dissing my Braden. He’s fine as fuck.”
“He is, but he’s no Grayson.” I wink. “I’m sure the people of Sunnyville would agree with me.”
“Of course they would. That’s who they’re all here to see.” She looks around and gauges the crowd. “Speaking of Grayson . . .”
I follow her gaze, and everything about me freezes, melts, wants, and needs at the sight of him. I’m sure my breath catches. I know my hands tighten. I know I rise onto my toes to get a better view.
Grayson is flanked by his brothers. Both Grant and Grady have smiles on their lips that seem to widen with each and every person who greets them, but it’s Grayson who owns my attention. He’s wearing a button-up dress shirt and jeans, which makes him look impossibly more handsome, and yet the smile on his face is more cautious than anything. The look in his eyes as he scans the crowd more pensive than at ease.
And for the briefest of moments, our eyes meet. His feet falter. My breath hitches. Hurt. Longing. Need. Want. Desperation. It’s everything I tell him in the simple glance. Everything I can think to say with a look, since when I say it with words, it doesn’t seem to matter.
“Lawd have mercy. What I wouldn’t give for a man to look at me like that.”
He’s looking at me, all right. But he looked at me the exact same way the last time I saw him . . . right before I climbed into my car and drove away after Luke’s date night for us at the hangar. Looking at me that way didn’t make him chase after me, and it definitely didn’t make him fight for me.
Will he now?
“Now that he’s here, we can get this show on the road,” Rissa says and pushes my back so that I move toward the front of the room. I want to stop her and tell her that I have no business even being a part of this anymore, but she doesn’t let me.
I suddenly have the sinking feeling that my conversation with my dad was a huge mistake. Each step I take toward Grayson—toward the front of the bar—only serves to solidify it.
It isn’t as if I was envisioning that he’d walk into the bar, stride over to me, and kiss the breath out of me. Well . . . maybe I was. But he could at least make a move toward me instead of standing there, frozen in place, stoic as can be.
Before I can steer his way or catch his eye again, Rissa is pulling me with her onto the makeshift stage where the band’s gear is set up. She holds a microphone out to me, and I stare at it without taking it.
I can’t do this.
I can’t announce Grayson as the winner.
I can’t stand here and smile and congratulate him without breaking down and crying. It would make me look like a complete fool and call even more attention to our rumored relationship.
“No. You do it,” I murmur, hating the feeling of so many eyes leveled on me.
“This is your baby.”
“No, you’re the one who got the ball rolling . . . you should see it through.”
Rissa gives me a curious look and then shrugs. “Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of Modern Family, I’d like to thank you all for coming out tonight to celebrate the culmination of a joint effort between Sidney here and myself. We wanted to find a way to celebrate fathers. To give them the praise they deserve for being hard-working and good-loving. What better way than to have a contest and involve America in helping us find someone to celebrate? So Sidney thought up this contest, which I normally would have said didn’t fit our model, but when people started applying, I realized it could work. And it did. After four rounds and millions of votes, we have our top four contestants!”
Four? I look at her. How much has she had to drink?
“Tonight, we will crown the first ever winner of Modern Family’s Hot Dad contest.” The crowd cheers, and no matter how hard I try to see through the stage lights blinding me, I can’t find Grayson. “So, without further ado, let’s announce the winner. Coming in fourth place, we have our dad of adorable twin girls! He is an executive by day but doesn’t hesitate to pull diaper duty at night. Give a round of applause to Gideon McMaster!”
A cheer goes up, and everyone claps as a strikingly handsome African American man makes his way to the stage, smile wide and fist pumping to the cheers calling out his name.
“And in third place, we have Christian Oliver. Christian is the father of five—FIVE, people. He’s a navy officer, helping to protect and serve as well as being a devoted dance dad.” Another round of applause erupts as Christian makes his way through the crowd, giving high fives as he goes.
“The runner-up, folks . . . what can I say? He is a man who I have a little crush on,” Rissa says, and I nod subtly, knowing that she’s talking about Braden and that Grayson won. “He’s a high school teacher, educating minds and I’m sure causing a few crushes among his students. He’s a father of one super adorable little boy and a triathlete on the side. Congratulations, Ethan Elliot! You are the esteemed runner-up of the Hot Dad contest.”
Ethan makes his way through the crowd. His hair is a little long around the ears, his glasses are slightly askew, and the blush on his cheeks is damn adorable. It makes me like him on the spot.
While I’m watching him, it dawns on me that he isn’t Braden. And Braden should be second place since I know Grayson was solidly in first the last time I checked the numbers.
Rissa meets my eyes ever so fleetingly, and there is something there I can’t register before she turns back to the crowd. “Now . . . for the moment you’ve all been waiting for—the Hot Dad of the Year! The winner of the ten-thousand-dollar cash prize, a trip to anywhere in the continental United States, and the man who will grace the cover of next month’s issue of Modern Family. He isn’t only fit and sexy, but also, he’s one hell of a dad. And by day—and sometimes night—he saves lives for a living. Let’s welcome your Modern Family Hot Dad of the Year, Braden Johnson.”
