It’s like déjà vu, standing in the back of Hooligan’s.
So many faces are the same as last time, but the buzz is a lot bigger this go ’round. Sunnyville is anxious to make one of their own Modern Family’s Hot Dad of the Year.
There’s a live band playing. Someone from Modern Family has placed signage in optimal spots for photographs, and there are red and white balloons tied to the ends of the booths to add a splash of color.
From where I stand in the back, I’ve managed to catch a glimpse of four of the five contestants. All but the one I crave to see—Grayson.
For the first time since I stepped foot back in Sunnyville months ago, I feel completely out of place. Strangely enough, my place has kind of been beside Grayson, and to be so uncertain of how he’s going to react to seeing me again is nerve-racking.
“Look at you! It’s only been a week, and I already miss the hell out of you.” Rissa grabs me in the tightest of hugs, which makes me wants to cry.
“It does feel like forever, doesn’t it?”
“See? It’s all that clean air talking and messing up your thinking.” She laughs and squeezes my hand.
“Not hardly.”
“When you didn’t respond to any of my texts, I didn’t think you were coming.”
“You texted?” I ask. “My damn phone is acting up. I did that update, and I’m not getting any of them. It’s been frustrating as hell.”
And, of course, that says nothing about how it feels wondering if Grayson has been trying to text to me too.
I doubt he has, though. My hoping that he has, and I just haven’t been getting them, is nothing but wishful thinking.
“Have you seen him yet?” Her voice lowers, and her eyes soften as the bar buzzes around us.
I don’t trust my voice, so I just shake my head.
“Hmm. Neither have I.”
“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.”
There is a cheer across the room, but I’m too stunned and more than a little confused to participate.
Something is going on.
The next few minutes are a blur—Braden gives a cute little speech, Rissa thanks everyone for their support and then tells them to stay tuned for the next contest coming soon. My mind spins as I try to figure out what the hell just happened. How did my go-to guy not win? How did the face of my contest not even place?
How is Grayson going to face Luke and tell him there is no vacation?
I look for Grayson in the crowd at the same time the crowd breaks out in a chant of his name.
“Gray-son. Gray-son. Gray-son.”
In much the same unassuming fashion he used the night of the other party at Hooligan’s, Grayson ambles to the stage, not wanting the attention but getting it nonetheless. When he steps up, our eyes meet, and he gives me that shy smile of his that curls up at one corner and makes every part of me need privacy. To talk to him. To tell him I’m here to stay. To beg him to choose me.
He waves a hand up to everyone and shouts out a thank you without bothering to take the microphone. And the whole time, all I can focus on is him. The scent of his cologne. The curl of his hair over the collar of his shirt. The strength in his hands. Simple things I’ve missed.
The crowd cheers, they take a drink to toast their hometown boy. How can they all look so relaxed while my confusion over the contest and my want to connect with him surmount everything?
“Speech. Speech. Speech.”
Oh my God. Leave him alone because I want him. I need him.
I don’t have to hide it anymore. He’s mine.
Rissa holds out the microphone again, and Grayson gives an exaggerated sigh before accepting it.
“You should’ve won!” I think it’s Grady who yells it, but all the patrons echo his sentiment.
“Nah. None of that,” Grayson says into the microphone. “Congratulations to all the men who were a part of this contest. It was so nice to be a part of something that paints fatherhood as sexy instead of the down-and-dirty job it can be most of the time.” He looks at his feet for a moment and twists his lips in a way that tells me something is on his mind. He looks out into the crowd, and I’m thrown for an even bigger loop when I see him meet my father’s eyes and nod. My dad nods back before looking at me, smiling softly, and then stepping back into the crowd like he isn’t even here. I don’t have time to process his presence or his exchange with Grayson because when Grayson speaks, his words knock all thought process from my mind. “I didn’t place in the contest because I pulled myself from it this morning.”
“What?” My response is just as loud as the rest of the crowd’s.
“Yep.” He nods through the ocean of boos. “I did.”
“Why would you do that?” another person yells. I think it’s one of his crew from work, but I can’t tell.
“I did it because there’s this girl . . .” he says, and then laughs softly. The sound weaves its way into my body and wraps around my heart. “There’s this girl I met, who, uh . . . well, she blindsided me. Point blank. She walked her heels up to my front door a few months back to let me know I was one of the top twenty of this contest, and even though I slammed the door in her face, she persisted.”
He looks back at me, and the emotions swimming in his eyes unlock every single part of me that I didn’t know was still guarded. He reaches back and takes my hand, linking our fingers together and squeezing gently. It’s that gesture that tells me this is going to work.
I just know.
“I dropped out of the contest because I wanted this on my terms. I wanted her on my terms. We’ve tried to pretend like something wasn’t going on between us. We denied the ridiculous rumors in the Gazette. We did everything we could so no one would think she rigged the contest if I won . . . and even with all that, I went and fell in love with her. Love. Scary shit for me . . . but it’s true.” His nerves are more than adorable as my heart riots against my rib cage. He meets my eyes again. “I love her.”
The bar erupts in a symphony of cheers that I don’t hear because all that’s on repeat in my ears is: I love her.
His lips meet mine in the sweetest of ways, warming me all the way to my toes and back up. I’m so lost in the moment, so caught up in Grayson that when he ends the kiss, he’s all I see. He’s all I know.
“You chose me.” His words are barely audible but filled with wonderment as his eyes well with tears before he blinks them away.
I nod. “I chose you.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long to see.”
“See what?”
“That you’re worth the risk, Princess.”
If my smile could light up a room, everyone in here would be shielding their eyes from the brightness.
“So are you,” I whisper as he lifts our clasped hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of my knuckles. And then it hits me. “How did you know?”
“Know what?” The startled look on his face worries me.
“That I was coming back to stay for good. That I told my dad to give the editor-in-chief job at Haute to Rissa. That—”
“You what?” I’m not sure whose voice rings out the loudest—Rissa’s or Grayson’s—but they are both chock-full of astonishment.
I turn to Rissa, whose jaw is slack and eyes blink rapidly as if she’s trying to comprehend what I just said. “Only if you want it, Riss.” I smile. “I’d never uproot your family or take your place unless you wanted to do it . . . but you deserve that position. You deserve to have your chance again.”
“You aren’t kidding, are you?”
“I wouldn’t kid about a thing like this. I told my father that you were the right person for the job, and he agreed. The promotion is yours if you want it.”
“Oh my God!” And before I can prepare for it, she launches herself at me and pulls me into a tight hug. “You really did this for me?”
“Yes.”
Her gratitude feels better than anything I’ve felt in the longest of times.
Nah. I take that back. When Rissa steps back and Grayson steps forward, pulls me into his arms, and presses a kiss to my lips, that’s the best thing I’ve felt in the longest of times.
“That was incredible,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Not as incredible as getting to wake up next to you every day.”
“But you gave up your dream?” His hands never stop framing my face as his eyes search mine. I can see the fear flicker there, the worry that being here won’t be enough to keep me. How can he not know that he’s all I need?
“You pushed me away. You expected me to leave. I’m here proving to you I intend to stay. I want you to know that dreams can change . . . and this—you, Luke, Sunnyville—is my dream now.”
“All of this even before you knew if I had my shit together?”
“Do you have your shit together, Grayson?”
His smile is quick. “Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Damn sure.”
“I have to warn you,” I say, giving him a teasing smile and making sure that every ounce of love I feel for him is reflected in my eyes. “I’m not an easy girl to please.”
“Oh, I know . . . but I’d rather argue with you any day of the week than kiss someone else.”
And there he goes, sweeping me off my feet.
“I guess now’s the perfect time to tell you I put an offer on the old Kraft house.”
“You what?” His laugh sounds so damn good to my ears that I want to make him do it again.
“I did.”
“Cold showers and all?”
“Cold showers and all. Who knew I could live among the little people,” I say to give him grief and follow it with a wink.
“I have an even better idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Move in with me.”
“Would we get to play PS4 in your bedroom?”
He throws his head back and laughs, the vibration going from his chest into mine before he meets my eyes again. “God, I love you.”
And then he kisses me.
It’s sweet. It’s sexy. It’s nothing I came to Sunnyville looking for, but it’s everything I need.
It’s everything I ever wanted.