She stepped into the kitchen and rolled on the balls of her feet, stretching her lean legs as she reached in the upper cabinet for plates, which made her pink tank top rise enough for me to see the smooth, taut skin of her back.
Distracted, I said, “Do something about what?” as I took the burgers out of the bag and ripped the bag the fries were in so we could share them. One thing about this burger joint—their fries were the best, and there was always enough to share.
She handed me a plate, and we sat at the table.
“About the traffic,” she said as she reached for a French fry. “It’s horrible.”
A laugh escaped me. “Yes, it is. I’m not sure if I can do anything about that, but I’ll see what I can do.” I winked at her, and her pale skin pinked in an adorable way. “So, tell me about yourself, other than the fact you like greasy food.”
She moaned and rolled her eyes, obviously enjoying the burger she’d just bit into, and the sound she made turned me on. She held up an index finger until she finished chewing.
“There really isn’t too much to tell. I’m twenty-nine and love to teach.”
“Really? That’s it?” I took a bite of my sandwich, but kept my focus on her.
“That’s it.” She shrugged, but something flickered in her eyes that had me curious. “Tell me more about you,” she said, reaching out for a couple more fries. “I’m sure you’re much more interesting than you’ve let on.”
I finished the bite I was chewing and grinned at her. “Well, I’m glad it was your class that I came to visit.”
Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side, but she said nothing.
“Don’t you believe me? Not all politicians lie.”
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “No. I didn’t mean to imply you were lying. I never said . . . I mean . . . I didn’t intend for you to feel that way.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry.”
Averting her eyes, she balled up the foil that had wrapped her burger as she stood to clear off the table. I began to help, but she waved me off.
“You seem nervous, Lucy.”
She stood at the sink, washing her hands, and froze for a second. “Wouldn’t you be if you were with a government official?” The messy bun on top of her head bobbed as she moved.
I leaned up against the counter and watched her. I could do that all day and not tire of it. She had a grace about her, and something told me she had no idea how attractive she was.
Crossing my feet at the ankle, I said, “No. We’re just normal everyday people. It’s not like I’m a rock star.”
“But you’re famous enough to have your picture in the paper,” she shot back.
Oh, so that was the issue. Knowing full well what she referred to, I glanced over to the coffee table in front of her sofa and saw the Post. A woman after my own heart.
“Did you see my picture in the paper this morning, Ms. Washburn?”
Lucy wiped her hands on a towel, grabbed the soda that I’d brought her, and went into the living room. “I did. She’s beautiful.”
She sat down at a small table that apparently she used as a makeshift desk, and I sat as well, but not before I picked up the newspaper and looked at the black-and-white photo she was referring to.
I tightened my lips, trying to contain my smile as I said, “My parents will thank you.”
Her eyebrows drew together, and two cute creases formed between them. “Your parents?”
“Yes, that incredibly lovely woman I took to the fundraiser is my sister, Gretchen.”
I’d never seen someone blush as quickly as she did. “Oh. I didn’t mean to imply . . .”
“Yes, you did.” When the rosy color on her cheeks faded, and her usual alabaster skin paled a shade lighter than usual, I said, “It’s okay. I’m glad you were curious.”
“I wasn’t curious.” She pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin slightly, obviously lying.
“Yes, you were.”