Page 58 of What I Like About You

“I am aware, sugar. Have been for years.”

“Then, what’s the deal?” Leona asked from the other side of Drea.

“No deal. One thing at a time.”

“Stop being so friggin’ evasive!” Leona growled. “Just tell us what is going on between you two!”

“We’ve reconnected,” he said, choosing his words carefully. He knew the girls cared and only wanted what was best for him, but he still didn’t want to give too much away. As far as he knew, they still didn’t know what had happened between him and Zara on prom night, and he didn’t dare think about how crushed they would be to learn about that side of him. “Beyond that, it’s between her and me.”

“But—” Drea started, but was cut off by her uncle Grayson sticking his head into the kitchen.

“Dalton! Grab a magic muffin and get out here. I need you!” he hollered.

Saved by the fun uncle, Dalton thought, grabbing his muffin and heading out to the dining room.

“What’s up, bossman?” he asked as they wound through the tables and into the lobby.

“I’ll tell you when we’re in Vaughn’s office.”

Vaughn’s office? They never talked in Vaughn’s office. The only time he remembered anyone ever being brought in here was when they fired that maintenance kid for letting Felicity into La Isla Bonita to corner Cullen a couple of months ago. This was a lot more serious than just needing his help lifting something. Had someone seen him and Zara last night in the pool? Had they been reported? Dalton couldn't imagine that would require a meeting in the big boss’s office though, would it? He figured at worst Gray would just slap him upside the head while laughing and telling him not to do it again.

“Have a seat,” Vaughn said, motioning to one of the guest chairs. “Mind if we close the door?”

Fuck, I must be in some deep shit…

“Um, no,” he replied, still very confused. “Listen, I don’t know what this is about, but—”

“We got a call from your dad,” Vaughn cut in.

“Excuse me?”

“Big D called us,” Grayson repeated, sliding into the other guest chair. “Asked us to terminate your employment with the Indigo Royal.”

“What? How? When?”

“Last night,” Vaughn told him. “I met Big D a number of years ago at a real estate conference. He’s a good business contact to have.”

“I bet,” Dalton muttered.

“He called last night asking that we end our employment agreement with you, since he believes it is what’s standing in the way of you returning to Atlanta and accepting a new executive role with Southland Holdings.”

Fucking asshat. Is that really what he thought? That Dalton wasn’t taking the position because of a pre-existing employment agreement? What a bastard. How could he not understand after all this time that this was about way more than just a job. Only his father would think that a job could be that easily rearranged, like it was a piece of furniture.

Wait, he doesn’t think that because…

“Is my father the reason I have a job here?” he asked, a sudden trepidation gnawing at him. He wasn't really sure he wanted to know the answer. He looked up to these men so much, both personally and professionally. They had taken him in and treated him like family since the beginning, and it would gut him if that had only been because of his father. But if the Quinlans had hired him because Big D had asked, or worse, had paid them to do it, how could he continue to work here?

“No,” both men said simultaneously.

“When you arrived, we knew who you were because your father had called and told us he expected that you might turn up. He asked us then to encourage you to go back to Atlanta,” Vaughn explained. “I told him that we wouldn’t involve ourselves in Sutherland family politics, but that we would keep an eye out for you.”

“I really did need a first mate at the time,” Grayson continued. “When I discovered you could sail, it seemed like a natural fit. You and Kyle hit it off, and everything just fell into place.”

Dalton was relieved to hear them say this. The Indigo Royal had been a sanctuary for him these last three years, and if it had all been a lie, he probably would have lost it. The people here were his family, even if they weren’t blood.

“So, am I being fired?” he asked, trying carefully to not sound bitter already.

“Not unless you want to be,” Vaughn said.