by Hamel, B. B.
Anyway, here I am, trudging down the tunnel. I can feel the wind out there, and I know it’ll be worse on the field. I’d never even consider doing this.
If it weren’t for him.
I step out of the tunnel. Up near the field, I can see two figures standing there. I sigh and hurry over to them, wind swirling around me, breath coming out in a thick white fog.
Cole looks over first. His face goes from dark and annoyed to bright and smiling almost instantly. It makes me smile too, even though I’m annoyed with him.
He’s the asshole that made me get up this morning.
“Come on, little Leah,” he whispered in my ear. “It’s time.”
“I don’t wanna,” I groaned back. I looked up at him, handsome face grinning back at me.
He laughed, pulled the covers off, kissed my lower back. “Get up,” he said, and slapped my ass, nice and hard.
He’s a fucking jerk. I grin at him like a moron, still so totally in love, even a year later.
“How’s it looking?” I ask him.
Robby looks over and nods. He’s used to me now, but it took him a little while to warm up. Once he did though, I realized he’s such a good guy.
Now I get why he ended up dating Tessa, and why they’re still together.
“Not too bad,” Cole says, glancing at the field. “Groundskeepers are pretty great.”
“Told you it’d work out.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Of course you did.”
“Come on, I did.”
“Okay, okay.”
I stand next to him and we survey the field together. It’s still slightly covered in snow but the guys are clearing it, little by little. They’re being careful, since they don’t want to mess up the grass.
I lean up against Cole’s shoulder. Instantly I feel warmer, even though it’s still freezing out here.
Typical Fargo weather. Last year around this time, it was a little chilly, but not bad.
This year, it’s a freaking winter wonderland.
He puts his arm around my shoulder. “Thanks for coming in early. You know I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I just can’t trust anyone else with this.”
I make a face. “You could definitely trust someone else. I mean, it’s just physical therapy. How many trainers has Sean worked with?”
He shrugs. “Plenty. But you’re the best.”
I roll my eyes, smile, and kiss him.
“I have to get back to it,” Robby says, cutting into our moment. “I’ll check in later.”
We wave at him and he trudges off. I lean against Cole again for a second, and we stand there together in the cold, in the near-dark, watching the field slowly get shoveled out.
“Okay, come on,” I say finally. “Let’s go get started. Is he here yet?”
“He’s here,” Cole confirms.
We walk back inside, hand in hand.
It feels good, not hiding what we are. I mean, we haven’t had to in a long time, not since last year when Cole kissed me after that big win.
Things changed after that game. The Chainsaws went on a really great run, but Sean got hurt toward the end of the season, and our backup just didn’t have it in him.
We narrowly missed the playoffs. I know Cole did everything he could to try and make it happen, but it just wasn’t enough. There wasn’t anything he could, not with his quarterback sidelined.
Atlas gave him a bonus anyway. Half a million dollars.
It was more than enough to buy ourselves a beautiful house near here. I moved in right after the season. We’ve been living together ever since.
And we don’t hide anything. We don’t have to. The media reported on the kiss and even though it was a minor scandal, it somehow passed into just another bit of old news. Nobody fired Cole, nobody even complained.
It just became a normal thing.
Now here we are, undefeated after five games. I look up at his face and smile. We’re going to make the playoffs this year.
Hell, if Cole has his way, we’re going to win the Super Bowl.
Keeping Sean healthy is a big part of my job these days. Ever since his off-season surgery, he’s been in a little pain. I’ve been working with him, but recovery is hard.
“How’s he been feeling?” Cole asks me.
“Good, I think,” I say. “Winning helps. He’s in pain all the time, but there’s no helping that.”
“No,” he grunts. “The kid’s really strong.”
“He really is.”
“Plays his heart out for me.”
I sigh, put my hand on Cole’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s his decision.”
Cole nods, face tight.
I know playing Sean is tough on him. Everyone knows we need Sean to win, and Cole knows it most of all. But he hates putting Sean in when he’s always hurting.
That’s why I come here and do extra therapy with him every day. Not exactly for Sean, although it’s for him too, of course.
Mainly it’s for Cole. I want to help him as much as we can.
We come down the hallway. Cole glances at me.
“You know I love you, right?”
“I know,” I say, smiling. We come up to the training room door. There’s a strange yellow glow from inside. “What’s wrong?”
He sighs and smiles. “Go ahead.”
I bite my lip, hesitating. “Cole.”
“Go on.”
I open the door and step inside.
The training room is covered in candles. It’s absolutely packed with them. Most of the players and the training staff are there, staring at us. Tessa is there, Felix and Patrice and Sean, they’re all there. I stare at the group, eyes wide.
Everyone’s smiling huge, but nobody speaks. Even Robby’s grinning at me, and winks.
I turn to Cole. “What is—”
The words die in my throat.
He’s down on one knee in front of me, a big diamond ring in his hand. “Leah, ever since we met, I knew. I love you more than anything, and—”
“Yes, you idiot!” The words come out in a rush.
The whole room laughs, and Cole grins.
“Will you marry me?” he asks.
“Yes!” I say again. He stands, slips the ring on my finger, and we kiss.
The whole room bursts into applause and cheers. People hug us, a big massive bear hug from everyone we love.
Because this team is a family. As much as it’s a business and a team, it’s a family. We’ve gone through a lot these past two seasons together, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
Cole kisses me. “Can’t get away now,” he says softly.
“Never would, not for the world.”
I kiss him and I’m swept away by people congratulating me, hugging me, kissing my cheek. Sean grins, punches my shoulder.
“I’ll see you later,” I say to him.
He winces. “I know.” He trudges off.
I grin. Tessa runs up and hugs me.
“I knew it, I knew it, but it was soooo hard not telling you.”
I laugh and hug her back.
Eventually, Robby peels her away. Cole yells at everyone, tells them to get to work. They all came in early today, just to see this, just to be here for this moment.
I drift back to him. My future husband, my Daddy.
My love. My everything.
I kiss him and he holds me. For a moment, we’re alone in the training room, surrounded by candles.
It’s perfect. It’s everything I need.
As long as I have him, I know I’ll always be complete.
“Come on, Daddy,” I whisper to him. “Let’s get to work. We have some games to win.”
He grins, kisses my cheek. “That’s my girl.”
I squeeze his hand. We leave the room together.
I don’t look back. I only need to look forward.
At my perfect future with my perfect man.
THE END
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President Daddy
1
Maggie
He sits behind the Resolute desk like a general, hands clasped in front of him, handsome face smiling slightly.
I can feel myself tremble. I’ve never been this close to the President before, and it hits me just how handsome he is.
I mean, I knew he was hot. The media loves to go on and on about how attractive our new President is. He’s only forty-five, and he’s the first single man to win the office, although he is a widower.
People can’t help but make jokes. He’s the most eligible bachelor, way too hot to be single, all that stuff. I mean, it’s crass, but it’s totally right.
Dark hair speckled with gray and perfectly styled. Light blue eyes that look almost gray. His chin and cheeks are covered in perfect stubble. His lips are full. His jaw is square. The man looks like more a super model than the leader of the free world.
And yet here he is, smiling at me. I’m totally freaking awestruck.
I’d only ever seen him on TV. He’s hot on TV, but in person…
He’s stunning.
It’s freaking terrifying.
“Are you okay?” he asks in that freaking voice of his.
Low, rumbling, almost sultry.
I clear my throat. “Uh, yes, sir. I’m fine, sir. Just gathering myself. sir.”
He laughs softly and glances to his left. His chief of staff, Charles Gray, smiles wryly. Charles is older than the President, wrinkled but stock-straight, the perfect soldier.
“I’m not sure I got that, Charles,” the President says. “Did she call me sir?”
“I think so, sir,” he says, grinning.
I cough again as the President laughs. “Relax,” he says to me. I glance at my boss, who’s smiling tightly, but I can tell he’s about to have a freaking seizure.
“Okay, sorry, sir,” I say.
“Listen, please, call me Adam. That’ll help you relax.”
“Thank you, sir.” I cough. “I mean, Adam.”
He grins. “Go ahead. Give me the numbers.”
I take a deep breath. “Yes, sir. I mean, Adam. We’ve been poring through the data, and I think you’ll find it interesting.”
I run through the data, starting with the most recent polls. I work for the President’s personal polling staff, and I’ve been charged with running surveys for him. I’m supposed to find out what the American people think about every topic imaginable, from birth control to fixing roads.
Which is easier said than done, of course. America is freaking huge and freaking diverse, but it’s my job to try and distill it all into something easily digestible.
President Clark runs under one simple idea: he’s going to do what people want him to do.
He’s not beholden to special interests. He’s independently wealthy and isn’t interested in getting richer, so he’s going to do whatever he can to help average people, not big corporations or other rich people. He wants to bring American manufacturing back, help raise up the middle class, get people out of poverty.
That’s all nice and pretty and whatever. But he can only do any of that if he actually knows how people want him to do it.
As I get halfway through my numbers, he sighs and glances at Charles. He raises a hand, interrupting me. “Maggie, right?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Listen, can we have the room?” He looks around at the man standing in the corner, at the Secret Service agents, and at Charles and Roger.
I hesitate, start moving, but he calls my name. “Not you,” he says as the room clears. “You stay.”
My heart beats faster. President Clark gets up from behind the desk and comes around toward me.
“Okay, sir,” I say.
He winces. “Please, call me Adam. Especially now that we’re alone. I hate that “sir” stuff, it’s so… clumsy.”
“I know what you mean,” I say.
“Do you?” He arches an eyebrow and grins.
“I hate calling people ‘sir.’ Always feels so awkward.”
“Right? It’s an antiquated thing. Nobody does it anymore.” He walks over to the couches and gestures at the one across from him. “Take a seat, Maggie.”
I sit down across from him. He sighs as he gets comfortable.
I fidget nervously as he watches me. I’m afraid I just screwed this up badly, and he’s about to fire me. Frankly, I’m freaking terrified.
I’ve never done this before. I’m twenty-two, the youngest person on the polling staff, and I barely feel like I belong.
“Do you know how important you are?” he asks me finally.
I blink. “Uh, no,” I admit. “I’m just a pollster.”
He laughs. “But an important one. I used to read your blog.”
That surprises the hell out of me. “Are you serious?”
“Sure. I loved Accidentally Serious. Some of the best political data journalism I’ve ever read. It almost made the numbers seems interesting.”
I shake my head, totally shocked. I used to write a popular blog about political science using strictly data-focused ideas. I looked at the facts, at the numbers and the figures, and I dissected what worked and what didn’t.
I had a pretty good following. I figured that’s why I was hired, but I had no clue the President actually read my blog.
“I’m flattered,” I admit. “I’ve always been a fan.”
“I know. You wrote a nice post about some of my policy ideas a few years ago.”
I laugh. “Oh, god, I did, didn’t I?”
“Yep. Said some other flattering things, too.” He grins at me, leaning back, legs crossed.
I blush. I remember that post. I remember calling him the hottest man in the senate, both policy-wise and looks-wise. It was a stupid joke at the time, and he was just a freshman senator from Philadelphia, but now…
He’s the freaking President, and he read my stupid little fan-girl post about him.
He sighs. “So look, here’s the deal. I loved your blog, loved the way you could distill big, difficult ideas into relatable stories.” He pauses, head cocked. “That’s what I want from you.”
I bite my lip. “That’s hard to do, Adam.”
It feels weird saying his name. I like the way he smiles slightly when I do. I can feel myself getting warm.
“I know. It’s a hard job. But I think you can do it.”
I shake my head. “Honestly, this much raw data is just… it’s a mess. It’s unfocused. I’d need weeks to get it all into good order, and by the time I did, it’d be out of date.”
He nods, frowning slightly. “What do we do about that?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit.
“We’ll have to work on that, then.”
“I’ll think of some ideas.”
“Good. I really mean it when I say that your work is important. I need to know what people want if I’m going to be successful.”
I nod once, feeling a thrill run through me. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good.” He takes a breath and lets it out. “I’m glad you’re on our team, Maggie. And please keep calling me Adam. I like hearing my name come out of your mouth.”
That surprises me a bit, but I don’t miss a beat. “I’ll do what I can, Adam.”
“Good.” He stands and extends a hand t
o me. “I’m looking forward to getting closer to you, Maggie.”
I stand, shake his hand. It’s rough and firm, which surprises me. As far as I know, he’s always been a lawyer and a senator. I don’t know why he’d have rough worker’s hands.
I leave his office. Charles shuffles in past me, followed by a gaggle of aides. I walk down the hallway where Roger intercepts me before I can even get my thoughts together.
“What did he want?” Roger asks. He’s early thirties, wire rim glasses, balding on top. “Was the data acceptable?”
Roger’s a decent boss, but he’s severely limited. He can only see the numbers and nothing else.
“The data is fine. He just needs it to be a little more organized.”
Roger scoffs. “Dumbed down, you mean. That pretty—”
“Not dumbed down,” I correct. “Organized. Digestible. I just threw a ton of stats at him, without any indication of what any of it means.”
“We don’t analyze, we report,” he says.
I shrug. “Just reporting what he said.”
Roger glares at me. “Fine. We’ll work on it.”
He turns away, down a side hall. I continue on, back toward our office, but I have to stop and sit on a bench tucked in a corner to get myself together.
Working in the White House has been a dream of mine since I was a little girl. I couldn’t ask for a better President to work for, either. Adam Clark is popular, attractive, and smart. I think he’s going to be a great leader, and the country does, too. He easily won his first election by a landslide.
But he’s intimidating. Terrifying, actually. He’s too handsome, too intelligent. His smiles are too easy and alluring.
And I think he was flirting with me back there.
The thought sends chills down my spine. The most eligible bachelor in the nation, flirting with me. Forty-five years old and still looks thirty.
I’d love to watch him unbutton his shirt as he bends me over the Resolute desk, spanking my bare ass, while the Secret Service waits just outside.