Page 136 of Cockpit
“Grayson Malone?”
His voice. Aristocracy lilts in his tone, and I square my shoulders.
“Can I help you?” I repeat. We stare at each other. Measure each other. Judge.
“Frank Thorton. Nice to meet you.”
I stare at the hand he extends and hear my father say, “Never look a gift horse in the mouth.” Yet, all I want to do is look. All I want to do is stare.
All I want to do is question.
Reluctantly, I shake his hand, leery and cautious as I wait for whatever shoe might drop.
“Likewise, Mr. Thorton,” I murmur.
“Call me Frank,” he says with a definitive nod.
The expensive suit is something Claire’s dad always wore, but the warm smile that slowly spreads across Frank’s face is anything but.
“Frank,” I say.
“I’m sure you’re curious as to my sudden appearance on your doorstep.”
“You could say that.” I should invite him in, but I hesitate.
“It seems to me you’ve made quite an impression on the readers of Modern Family . . . and on my daughter.”
Every part of me tenses as I wait for the words. She’s too good for you. You’re not the type of man we have picked out for her. And on and on. The Hoskins’ comments ring in my ears all this time later.
“I assure you it was unintentional.” I laugh, nerves suddenly running side by side with my caution. Is he going to tell me I can’t see his daughter? Is he going to warn me away from her just when I’ve realized I don’t want to live without her?
“May I ask you what your intentions are?” He shifts his feet, but his eyes hold mine.
“My intentions?” I sound like an idiot, but fuck if I don’t feel like I’ve been brought back to ten years ago. This time, though, I know just how brutal the fallout is. I know just how devastating the woman you love leaving is.
“Yes. How are you going to win the contest and end up with Sidney without it looking as if the contest was rigged?”
I stare at him for a beat, blinking and trying to work out what he’s saying. He has the look of a father who wants answers, not a businessman wondering about the integrity of his business, so I know where this conversation is headed.
“I already dropped out of the contest.”
“You what?” He’s a man used to being in the know, and that little tidbit just knocked him off his stride.
“Yes, sir. I dropped out of the contest earlier today.” I think of the shocked look on Rissa’s face when I told her and then the knowing grin that followed.
“Why’s that?”
“Because your daughter is more important to me than any prize I ever could win. That’s why.” The words are a challenge thrown out, daring him to question me and tell me I’m wrong.
His eyes harden. His lips purse. And then they slowly spread into a smile. “Is that so?”
“Yes, sir. That’s so.” I cross my arms and lean my back against the door, more than aware that I still haven’t invited him in. I’m ready for the fight. “If I stay in and win, then it taints the contest she worked so hard on. The last thing I want is questions about her dedication or accusations of a rigged contest to be angled her way. I made a deal with her that I’d participate to help make the contest a success. I fulfilled my end of the bargain, but now her success may be questioned if I stay in . . .”
“So, you’d give up the money and prizes?”
“It was never about the money or the prizes.” I take a step toward him. “Like I said, Sidney means more to me than that . . .”
He purses his lips again. “You are talking about my Sidney, right?” And when that smile breaks on his face, I feel like I can breathe for the first time. His laugh echoes around the porch as he cuffs the side of my shoulder while I stare, trying to absorb all of this. “Stubborn? Always right? Fiery temper?”
