to stop this, Riley.”
Closing her eyes, Riley took a deep breath. Straightening
her shoulders, she turned to her father.
“Stop watching the Knights? We both know that will never
happen.”
“Don’t be coy. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Define coy,” Riley said, tongue firmly in cheek.
“God, you are so much like your grandfather.” One side of
Gerald Preston’s mouth curled into a sneer.
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t meant as a compliment.”
“I know. Yet that’s how I choose to take it.”
Gerald Preston was a handsome man. Tall, lean. His dark hair
was still thick with only a touch of gray beginning to show. He kept himself
fit. His personal trainer visited the house three times a week and he ran five
miles every day. At fifty-three, he had the body of a much younger man.
Some people had commented on the resemblance between father
and daughter. The same slender build. The blue eyes. The dark hair. Riley
supposed it was true. When asked, she said she looked like her grandfather.
Riley felt a twinge of regret. It didn’t happen often. Not
anymore. There had been a time, just after her grandfather’s death, when she
wished for a closer relationship with her father. For twelve years, she had
been blessed with a strong, loving male figure in her life. She felt the loss
greatly.
Until then, she hadn’t worried about the ice that dripped
from her father’s every word. She had Grandpa. However, without Douglas Preston’s
warm presence, Riley naturally looked to the man who had given her life. The
man who had never shown an ounce of interest in her. She wasn’t surprised to
find out that hadn’t changed. Disappointed, but not surprised.
“You hide up here in the stands, watching Sean McBride,
thinking you’re invisible. Trust me, little girl , he is the only one who
doesn’t know how you feel.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Riley lifted her chin, trying to put on a brave face. Was
her father right? Did everyone know? It was hard to know for certain. Her
father didn’t speak to her often, but when he did, it was never a pleasant
experience. Where her grandfather had been full of laughter and good humor, her
father was much more of a doom and gloom personality.
“That’s a good poker face. Another of your grandfather’s
traits.” Gerald casually picked a tiny piece of lint from his perfectly
tailored suit. Flicking it away, his eyes met Riley’s. The gesture wasn’t
random. Without words, he told her she was as insignificant as that piece of
lint. And as easily taken care of.
If her father had spent any time getting to know her, he would
have known Riley couldn’t be intimidated that easily. Push her, she pushed
back. That, too, was something she inherited from her grandfather.
“I have every right to be here.” Riley refused to break eye
contact. She felt a small thrill of accomplishment when he was the first to
look away.
“You’ll own the team someday.” As always, Gerald had trouble
saying the words. “It doesn’t give you rights to the players.”
“I repeat, I don’t know what you mean.”
“What is the appeal?” Gerald continued as though Riley hadn’t
spoken. “Sean McBride draws women like moths to a flame. I suppose he’s
attractive enough.”
Riley snorted. Attractive enough ? The man was a God!
“He’s an outstanding athlete. An asset to the team. That is
my only interest.”
It sounded lame, even to her. Riley might not fool her
father, but she wouldn’t discuss her feelings about Sean. Not with him.
“Even your mother has commented on your unhealthy obsession.”
That was interesting. Her mother and father rarely spoke.
They led separate lives. It seemed unlikely they would break that precedent to
discuss her.
The image of her mother touching Sean popped into Riley’s
head. Perhaps she wasn’t the only Preston obsessed with the star wide receiver.
The idea of Corrine making a move on Sean made