Worth the Risk(26)

“It wasn’t me who told the newspaper about the incident, and it sure as hell wasn’t Mick.”

“Mick?”

“The unarmed thug.” Being a cop, his eyes fire with recognition as my cell rings for what feels like the hundredth time today. People asking about the newspaper article. Attaboys about saving someone, even though I’m on desk duty for doing the exact same thing.

I switch the ringer off and shake my head.

“You really think she planted this story? Why would she do that?”

“Hell if I know. I even fucking accused her of setting it up, then dumbass me bought it when she said she’s not that conniving.”

“One bat of those lashes and shift of those thighs and poor Grayson’s blood leaves one head for another and impairs his thinking.”

“You’re being a dick.”

“And you got played.” He tsks. “The woman’s got balls.”

“Let’s hope not.” I laugh as I remember the heat of her body against mine last night.

“You know what I mean.” He leans forward so his elbows rest on his knees, and he levels me with a stare.

“Like I said, it’s all a ploy. The article. The hero thing. All of it.”

“If it’s a ploy to get you thinking about her, she’s doing a damn fine job of it.”

“Jesus,” I mutter.

“What’s the big deal about the contest, Gray? I mean seriously? Do the damn thing. Let Luke revel in the attention for a bit, let him think he has a famous dad. Win the damn thing and take him to Disney World like you’ve wanted to do for years. Let yourself relax for a bit instead of pacing back and forth, wearing a hole in the floor as you wait out this fucking stupid flight suspension. Like I said, your participating doesn’t give any information to the Hoskins that they couldn’t find by asking around town. And if it does, if it tells them that you’re better off without Claire, then good. Again, what’s it going to hurt?”

Of course, he has to throw Luke in there to get me to really hear him.

“She reminds me of everything Claire was . . . and the contest reminds me of everything I hate.”

“It isn’t one of Claire’s damn beauty pageants.”

“Close enough.”

“Bullshit. I bet your ass there is no crown in this contest, or high heels to prance around in. If there is, I’m front row to take blackmail pictures of you.”

“Very funny.”

“And Sidney isn’t Claire. Sure, they both lived on the hill when we were in school. Sure, they were inseparable and their friends were assholes to you where you worked in the diner, but hell, I’m an asshole to you sometimes, too.”

“You’re my brother. That’s different.”

“You’re missing the point. Just because she was best friends with Claire, it doesn’t mean she’s like Claire. They most definitely had a shit-ton more money than we did growing up, but having similar backgrounds doesn’t make them the same.”

“That’s supposition.”

“And that’s you being a stubborn ass. Besides, what does any of this have to do with Sidney in the first place? So what? She’s running the contest. That’s it. Big whoop.”

“She doesn’t deserve my help.”

“Help? What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Last night. The alley. I walked out, and she followed because she slipped and said she was going to use me to help save her magazine.”

“Save her magazine?”

I shrug. “That’s what she said.”

“Look at that. You could be a hero again.”

“Stop the hero crap.”

“I’m serious. Help the contest and in turn save jobs.”

He’s right and I hate it and refuse to acknowledge it. Yes, I’m acting like Luke would, but the woman is frustrating as all hell. “She doesn’t deserve my help.”

“Ahhh, so that’s what this is all about.” He runs a hand through his hair and chuckles. “You’re exhausting. All of that to get to the point.”

“The point?”

“Yeah. At first, you played it off as you not wanting the attention because of Luke, but dude . . . you’re projecting Claire onto Sidney in some fucked-up way, like participating would be you somehow giving in to what she did to you.”

“That’s such bullshit.” At least that’s what I tell him, but hell if he isn’t somewhat right.

“Uh-huh.” He draws the word out, and the sound grates on my nerves. “If that’s not true, then do the damn contest. Take a few photos. Give them the bio they want. Then step back and let whatever happens, happen. What would it hurt other than maybe pad your bank account if you win?”

“God, you sound just like Dad with all this wisdom.” I shake my head and laugh.

“Not quite. I don’t have all of his perfect sayings down yet—but I’ll get there.”

“Lord, help us.” I sigh and glance at Luke as he slams the door and runs up the stairs as he has some kind of mock battle between the Minecraft figures in each of his hands.

“What about him?” Grant asks as he lifts his chin to where Luke just disappeared.

“What do you mean, what about Luke? What would me going along with this teach him?