Worth the Risk(12)

“It means I was a snotty bitch in high school who used to hang out at the diner where he used to work—Lulu’s—and I don’t think my friends or I were the kindest of people back then.”

“The privileged kids too good for the middle-class ones who should be the hired help.”

“Something like that,” I muse, not too thrilled with the label despite knowing it’s deserved.

She nods. “Good on you for owning it. And just think, this is the perfect way to make amends for it.”

“What?” I ask through a laugh.

“Get Grayson to participate. Help get him some big-man-on-campus points for being a hot dad. And then reward him with the prizes if he wins. Maybe throw a party as a way of saying sorry for being a dick when we were younger while you’re at it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“No, I’m serious. That’s your new task. Get Grayson on board by the end of next week. He’s definite eye candy, which will no doubt help with publicity, and that benefits both our jobs.”

“You’re serious?” I don’t know why I ask that when I know it to be fact.

“As a heart attack.” That smug smile of hers is back. “Figure out how to soothe his ego and make him your cover boy. My report to your father will be dependent on it.” She turns her chair and faces her computer. “And if you can’t, I’ve got Braden over here whose horn I want to toot.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Can’t blame a girl for fantasizing.”

“You definitely can’t.”





“I hear congratulations are in order.” My mom’s smile grows wider with each passing second as she stares at me.

“For what?” I look to Luke, whose grin mysteriously matches hers.

“Luke told me all about being a finalist in—”

“It isn’t happening, Mom. It’s most likely some marketing gimmick to save the whales or something and—”

“And you have something against saving the whales?” Her hands are on her hips, and Luke’s snickering because that usually means someone’s in trouble.

“She said she thinks Dad has a real chance at winning,” Luke says excitedly.

“She?” My mom’s ears prick up and every part of me bristles as she bends over and puts her hands on her knees to be eye level with Luke. “Who is she?”

“Miss Sidney,” he continues. “She’s really pretty and nice and—”

“No one.” I push Luke gently on one shoulder as my mom puts her hand on his other and holds him in place.

“He was just filling me in on things you won’t,” she says with a lift of her eyebrows and that look that tells me even if we don’t discuss this now, she’ll get it out of him the minute I leave.

Just what I need.

“Why don’t you go play with Moose,” I say, referring to my parents’ mammoth of a dog.

“There’s a vacation and money if he wins. A vacation, Nana! Maybe we could go to Disneyland!”

“How fun,” she says and smiles. He looks from me to her, shrugs, and then takes off down the hallway.

“No running in the house!” my mom calls out, and his feet slow to a hurried clomp before there’s a quick thumping of a tail. The behemoth of a dog winds up in excitement over seeing his most favorite human, and Luke’s laughter is loud as it carries into the kitchen.

“Who was this lady?”

“It doesn’t matter who she is because I’m not doing the contest.” I open the refrigerator and grab a bottle of water before sitting on one of the barstools that gives me a view of the backyard. “Thanks for taking Luke for a bit.”

When I turn to look at her, her hands are on her hips and an expression that tells me she isn’t buying a word of what I’m saying. “You should do the contest, and who is the lady?”

“I’m not doing the contest, and the lady is Sidney Thorton, as in Claire’s close friend in high school, Sidney Thorton. You happy?”

“Oh.” I take another sip and push around the unopened mail on the counter out of habit as she figures out what to say next. Recognition flickers in her eyes. I know she knows who Sidney is. “That shouldn’t stop you from participating. It might be fun.”

“Fun? No thanks. I have my reasons. Subject over.”

She stares at me, completely dissatisfied with my response but aware that our staring contest isn’t going to get her anywhere. I may be the peacekeeper in the family when it comes to others, but when it comes to my own personal matters, no one tells me how to handle them.

“Well, then,” she says as she grabs the sponge and starts wiping down the already clean counters to busy herself. It’s also her way to staunch the hurt I’ve just caused by not letting her mother me more. “So, uh, anything fun you’re headed off to do?”

I can’t help but laugh. After all that, of course, she reverts back to the classic Betsy Malone staple of conversation. When I don’t respond, she turns my way to let me know she’s already conjuring up stories about how I’m headed off to have a secret rendezvous with some mysterious woman.

“You already have a grandchild from me, and there sure as hell isn’t going to be another marriage in my future, so the things I’m headed off to do won’t interest you,” I say and wink to cut her and her constant quest for more Malones off at the pass.