Page 106 of My All American Girl

45

SARAH

Dean and my father stared each other down, the tension between them palpable. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. The last thing I expected was for Dean to stand up to my father like this. It made me want to leap into his arms, kiss him, and ask him to carry me down the runway into the sunset. But I’d have to be batshit crazy to kiss Dean in front of my father.

Although it would shut him up nicely.

The two of them looked menacing. My father was older but a little bigger in the weight department than Dean. But Dean had the benefit of youth and muscles. The last thing I wanted to see was the two of them coming to blows. The tension crackled through the air. No one dared move. It was like watching two pissed dogs facing off. A single twitch and the other would attack.

“Dad—”

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” Dad growled. “Seems someone else thinks he gets an opinion in how I raise my daughter.”

“I have an opinion on how you treat one of my students,” Dean corrected.

“Dean, you should mind your own business,” my father said, his voice low and dangerous. “This does not concern you.”

Dean didn’t bend. “You made it by business when you assigned me to Sarah. And you asked me to watch out for her for a reason, Mo. As her mentor, I have an insider’s view into how well she’s doing, and you’re being unreasonable. She’s still fresh. Her numbers will improve. She’s top of her class right now.”

“That’s the minimum standard for a Thomas,” my father seethed. “Now back off.”

Dean gritted his teeth, his temper flaring. I could feel the protective energy radiating off him. A kiss and a sunset would be pretty good right about now, I thought. Maybe I could live without flying. Maybe Dean was enough.

“You put me in charge of her training because you trusted me,” Dean said in a low voice. “Are you telling me that’s different now? My opinion means nothing anymore?”

“Maybe you’re not as capable as I thought you were,” he retorted.

My stomach dropped. I couldn’t imagine them actually fighting.

“Dad, please,” I said. “Dean—I mean Ryker—is a good teacher. I’ll work harder.”

“You’re doing well,” Dean said. “No one else is doing better than you.”

His words were just what I needed to hear after the teardown by my father. I found myself smiling.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

My father looked back and forth between us, his eyes narrowing. My heart dropped when I realized he saw more than he should have. I hadn’t meant to use Dean’s name. I shouldn’t have smiled at Dean.

Shit.

I glanced at Dean and saw the same guilty expression on his face. We were busted. It was time to do some damage control.

“What’s going on here?” Dad asked. It wasn’t really a question. The accusation was clear.

I shrugged, trying to look innocent. “What do you mean? I’m training.”

Dean, on the other hand, had gone silent, his jaw clenched. He looked down at his feet. The guilt was coming off him in waves. I knew how much Dean respected my father. I felt bad for putting him in this position. He wanted to end this in London because he was worried this would happen.

And now it was.

My father’s suspicion seemed to deepen. “I want your records and reports from London. Specifically, your room and board.”

I turned pink, my stomach dropping. “Excuse me?”

“Now,” Dad insisted, glaring at Dean. “Get me the information immediately. That’s an order.”

When Dean didn’t move a muscle, the realization dawned on my father’s face. He came to the conclusion on his own, piecing together our defensiveness and interactions. His eyes blazed with anger. I had never felt so ashamed.