I hate seeing it, I hate it with every fiber of my being, but the moments we shared . . . the lingering feeling of his hands on me at the Tisal Basin . . . it almost makes the scandalous rumors of shoe-shopping worth it.
I go downstairs to check my mailbox, only to find two reporters at my building door. I know Matt must be fielding so many more, but to me, two reporters is two too many.
“Miss Wells—”
“No comment, thank you.” I struggle to open the door once more.
“Are you and Matt Hamilton on the tape?”
I slide into the building and see my message machine blinking madly with fifty-two—fifty-two—messages. I disconnect it.
I get an email from my parents. SCANDAL, the subject line reads.
I don’t open it.
Kayla texts me.
I text back:
I’m fine, thanks for worrying. I AM NOT ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED WITH MATT HAMILTON!
Sent. Not involved, I tell myself.
Women voters are going crazy, though, and by that evening, Matt is on the news.
“It is not true that I’m in a relationship with Miss Wells. We took a hike around the Basin as we reviewed my upcoming campaign schedule, so let’s keep the focus on that.”
I turn off the TV with a heavy feeling in my stomach. I eat and think about the situation over my grilled chicken and salad, then change into my running gear. That night, I plunge myself into a run, and run like I’m running a marathon when I head to my parents’ house to say goodbye before the campaign tour.
They’re expecting me in the living room—and I know they were discussing the news. The somber looks on their faces say it all. My father only hugs me and tells me in his gruff way to take care of myself, then heads upstairs.
My mother hands me a glass of lemonade and eyes me worriedly as we sit on opposite couches in the living room. “We saw the news.”
I groan. “Not you too, Mom.”
She nods. “Definitely me, Charlotte. For decades, your father and I have avoided any sort of scandal. Scandal is a career killer in politics.”
“Mom, I know—it was completely innocent.”
“Just remember you’re a lady, Charlotte. Ladies are always ladies first, women second. Understand?”
“Yes, I understand. Don’t worry—I wouldn’t cause any scandal for us.”
“It’s not that Matt isn’t . . . Goodness, he’s a breath of fresh air for this country and he’s running independently. Charlotte, the parties will be out to destroy him—you don’t want to fuel that fire. He belongs to America now. He always has.”
“I know, Mom, I know,” I say.
“Don’t fall in love with him.”
I duck my head, laughing mirthlessly. “Why would you say that?”
Her eyes shine with sympathy and understanding. “Because any woman would. But you’re not any woman. You’re your father’s and my daughter.”
I placate her for the next half hour, and I know I should be concerned; I am concerned. But nothing can stop me from hitting my bed and reliving Matt’s kisses a thousand times.
19
TRAVELING
Charlotte
We’re traveling on a twin-engine plane for the campaign. Our first stop is Dallas, and I’m the only woman flying among a group of four men and a dog. Matt’s junior campaign manager, Hessler, his intimidating grandfather Patrick, Carlisle, Jack, and his hot owner, Matt
Heavenly Kisser
Hamilton.
I’m nervous about the news. Those kisses we shared were so dangerous. I had no idea that I could be so reckless and impulsive until that night.
Matt smiles at me ruefully when he greets me—and I swear every single existing butterfly in my stomach takes flight because he looks genuinely happy to see me. Like he regrets almost getting caught, but he doesn’t regret the kisses one bit.
God. His kisses.
I try not to remember the launch of heat they caused inside me as I greet the men by the plane steps. Carlisle, judging by the tension in his shoulders when he looks at me, seems pretty unhappy about the news.
And the first clue I get that implies I shouldn’t even be traveling with Matt comes from his grandfather. He sees me and asks, “Who is she?”
“My scheduler. She’s Senator Wells’s daughter and an old family friend.” Matt introduces us. “Charlotte, Patrick Hamilton, my grandfather.”
“I know who she is—why is she here?” his grandfather huffs, turning around and boarding the plane.
Wow.
The man hates me.
Matt shoots me an ignore him look and puts his hand protectively on the back of my neck as he urges me up the plane steps. A frisson shoots down my spine and though the touch lasted only a second, the feel of his touch lasts for much longer. Matt settles his big body on the chair facing the cockpit. I take the seat behind his.
I have never before been more grateful that Matt brought Jack. He lets him out of his crate after takeoff and Jack immediately comes over to sniff me and lick my hands. He’s keeping his eyes on Matt while I plug in my earbuds to give the men some privacy while they talk.