Page 75 of Cockpit
“Huh?” I drag my attention away from the window I’ve been staring out of for the last I-don’t-know-how-long and turn to Rissa. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“About?” Her smile is wide and her eyebrows are raised as she looks toward the screen of my computer and then back at me.
“Oh. No. Not him,” I stumble over the words as I alt-tab out of my screen, which was open to Grayson’s picture.
“I’m sure you weren’t. Why daydream about him when you can have him whenever you want, right?” she teases and has me catching my breath momentarily. Does she know? Does a
nyone know? It isn’t as if our water fight couldn’t be fodder for Sunnyville gossip, but he left under the cover of night. After I put his clothes through the drier, he jogged right out the front door in time to get Luke from the movie Grayson’s mom took him to.
Rissa’s words still give me pause. They make me question whether anything has been said. Instead, I laugh and decide to go with my assumption that no one knows. “You’re going to start more rumors, Rissa.”
“If it’s in the Sunnyville Gazette, it must be true.” She winks.
“What’s in the Sunnyville Gazette?”
“That you and Grayson were seen out at dinner at McClintock’s the other night.”
This time, I laugh for real. “Is McClintock’s the restaurant that overlooks the Hoskins’ vineyards?” I swallow over the bitter taste in my mouth at the mention of one of the many businesses Claire’s family owns.
“The one and only.”
“Well, I, for one, have never been there. Not even when I was a kid . . . so rumor away.”
“Shush!” She waves a hand my way. “Let me pretend you were there so I can live vicariously through you and that fine specimen of a hot man.”
If she only knew.
I think back to the other night. To Grayson and everything he was more than capable of handling when it came to me.
“Get your own man, Rissa. Better yet, let me spread rumors about you being with Grayson. That would be more believable since you’re a resident here. Since your kids are around the same age as Luke. I mean, you’re a match made in Heaven.”
“First off, you’re the only one who could get away with sleeping with a contestant and not get fired.” I choke out a cough. “Your dad would can me in a second if our positions were flipped.”
“Nice try, but the warning has already been not so subtly issued. Any fraternizing with the contestants could be perceived as bias as it relates to the voting,” I say, using my best impersonation of Frank Thorton all the while remembering my and Grayson’s discussion about bias and the sexy smile that was on his lips. “Didn’t you know? Life is never allowed to interfere with business when you’re a Thorton.”
“We’re talking hypothetical here.” She lifts her eyebrows and holds a finger up to stop me from interrupting her. “Unless you have some juicy details you’re withholding.”
“Yeah, right,” I say through a nervous laugh.
“You better not be; besides, I think the town would turn against me if I went after him. They love the idea of you two together. Hometown hero who was wronged by his ex and the popular prom queen who returns to reunite with her long-lost crush.”
“Oh Jesus.”
“That’s what’s being said on the streets.”
“You mean on Main Street.” I glance back out of the window and shake my head before looking back at her. “And I’m sure you have absolutely no part in the spreading of these new rumors.”
“Who me? Never.” I can’t tell if she’s being serious or not. “All I did was get the ball rolling. You’re the one who pushed it downhill with that kiss. But I will tell you that the gossip hens in this town are already secretly planning your wedding.”
“Yeah, well, that is not going to happen,” I say as that unsettled feeling hits me again. The same one that hit me when he left my house. The same one that got stronger each time my phone rang and it wasn’t him. I know that isn’t what she means. I know Rissa is playing in her pretend world, so I go along with it.
“Oh my God! Could you imagine the story we could do if that happened? Modern Family’s hot dad contest nets him a wife.” She holds her hands up like she’s reading the words off a billboard.
“You need help.”
“Nope. It’s you who’s going to need help if he ever acts on the look he gets in his eye when he watches you. Pure lusty sexiness.” She wiggles her shoulders for emphasis, and I roll my eyes at her.
“I’m going back to work now.” I turn to my social media account to check my ad statistics where click-through rates and impressions and organic reach figures litter the page.
