Page 85 of The Mistletoe Bluff
He straightened in his chair and put two fists on either side of his empty plate. “How dare you? I should disqualify you right this minute!”
I held my breath as I waited for Oliver’s response. I was confident in my photography skills, especially after how well that engagement shoot had gone, but Oliver had beat me over and over in our class last year. It had put enough doubt in my head for me to think that, if it came down to Oliver and me, he would win.
And I needed that prize money. But, even so, I loved Meridel. It was home, and I didn’t want to be forced to leave, but if I didn’t win that prize money, I might not have another option.
“No need,” Oliver said, cutting through my anxiety. “I withdraw.”
“Oliver—” I began but his hand moved higher on my leg, his fingers pressing into my skin, and my breath caught in my throat.
“You really think this girl has a chance against all the other entrants?” his father snapped, not even bothering to look at me while he insulted me.
Oliver didn’t hesitate at all. “Absolutely.”
“You’re a blasted fool!”
“Leander—” Molly tried to calm him, but he shrugged her off again.
His utter dismissal of his wife had me seeing red.
“I didn’t pay that pitiful college all that money to get you in that magazine just for you to throw away your big chance.” Spittle sat on his lips, his face morphing from red to purple in his anger.
“You…what?” Oliver breathed. My own mouth was hanging open too. “You paid off the community college?”
Leander straightened, clearly not expecting Oliver to question him. “You needed to win that spread in theIowa Artist Gazette. Look at all the clients you picked up here in the States because of it! You’re helping L.L. & Co spread internationally, just like we wanted. That wouldn’t have happened if some girl had won instead,” he spat, throwing a dismissive hand at me.
Oliver looked dumbfounded; his eyes wide as he gaped at his father. For a split second, the thought crossed my mind that perhaps Oliver had known what his father had done the entire time and was playing dumb. But the shock on his face told me that was false. Oliver had no idea just how scummy his father was.
And that meant…Oliver didn’t beat me. Icould’vewon had Leander not paid off our college. I was a finalist, after all. Just the thought of that had the shackles of doubt and insecurity crack and break off, and a surge of renewed confidence flooded through me.
But then Leander turned his dark gaze on me.
“Did you know,girl, that fraternizing with a judge’s family in an attempt to gain favor in the competition is against the rules?”
I opened my mouth, but no words would come out.
“I should disqualify you right now. Then what use would you have for my son?”
His words had my heart stuttering, but for a different reason than I expected, and it sent a wave of shock through me.
As much as I needed that money, the thought of no longer worrying about the contest, of feeling guilty about using Oliver, and fighting the doubt that I could ever win, was enough for me to push to my feet.
I threw my napkin onto my plate and repeated Oliver’s earlier sentiment. “No need, Mr. Lewis. I’m withdrawing from the competition too. Your son is incredible, brilliant, and a better man than you could ever hope to be. You’d see that if you ever bothered to have an actual conversation with him rather than belittling and berating him all the time.”
Watching Leander’s mouth fall open, his eyes widening at the audacity of my words, filled me with immense satisfaction.
“Thank you for dinner, Molly. Everything was delicious,” I offered, putting a hand on her shoulder.
And then I stalked to the front door as the room went deathly silent, somehow keeping my fingers from shaking as I buttoned my coat and pulled on my boots before stomping outside, leaving the Lewis family gaping after me.
Oliver
You’re just going to let her talk to me like that?” My father shouted at me when Maya was gone.
Pride mixed with an indescribable surge of love flooded through me over how she not only stood up for herself but defended me as well.
I smirked at my father. “Yes.” And I’d let her do it over and over again if she wanted.
My father’s face turned the color of purple bruises. Spittle peppered his lips as he fought for something to say, but, for the first time in his life, he must have been speechless because he didn’t say a word.
