“Tessa comes to us with glowing recommendations, and I am thrilled to have her.” She placed a hand on Tessa’s shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll get to know plenty about your sharp eyes and your ability to work magic on reluctant politicians in the coming months, but for now, I’ll admit I asked Carol for gift-giving advice.”
There was nothing for it. Tessa pulled the tissue paper out of the bag. Nancy must have asked her old boss about this practically the day she hired her. Inside were several sheets of stickers from her favorite online shop. The stick-figure girls all had Tessa’s dark hair, and the sheets had legislative-themed tasks—committee meetings, research, hearings, there was even a tiny state house. Nancy had custom-ordered goddamn planner stickers for her.
Carol used to make fun of her decorated planner, and her reliance on paper in general, but it helped Tessa decompress. And she relished the little sparks of whimsy injected into her otherwise serious, staid day. A unicorn here, a little motivational quotation sticker there, some splashes of color in a sea of sensible navy skirt suits, it helped her feel human. Even though through some crisis or other, her lists were usually shot to shit by nine o’clock Monday morning, making them helped. Crossing things off, inching closer to a goal, it helped her feel like she had some tiny scrap of control while swimming against the tides.
Despite the fact that her new boss had just handed her an incredibly thoughtful gift, a wave of homesickness washed over Tessa. Carol had given Nancy the suggestion. For a second, she wished she’d never left. But if she was still in Hallowell running Carol’s healthcare policy desk, she would have to see Jacob’s eminently punchable face on placards dotting lawns of half the houses in town. His new girlfriend was a much more suitable partner now that he was running for office. He’d said Tessa didn’t have a face for fundraising. Turned out he’d been auditioning for her replacement for at least a year before he actually broke up with her. Her passion, her research, her words were good enough for stump speeches, but not for campaign appearances.
So she’d run away to Middleton. And here she was, being welcomed so thoughtfully into her new position, about to cry over some fucking planner stickers.
“Thank you, Nancy. This is,” she swallowed the lump in her throat, “so thoughtful and kind. I love them.”
Nancy patted her hand. “I’m glad you like them. I hope you know how thrilled I am to have you aboard. We’ve got some tough fights ahead of us this year, and we need all the help we can get.”
Tessa smiled wanly back at her. She was more than happy to have thorny problems to throw herself into, anything to distract her from what she’d left behind.
Dessert arrived, breaking up the sentimental moment, and allowing Tessa to temporarily forget her sorrows in a truly excellent piece of chocolate cake. When their plates were cleared and Nancy had paid the bill, Tessa wasn’t ready to be in her apartment alone with her thoughts. Ginsburg would yowl at her for the late feeding, but she took a seat in the upstairs lounge. One more drink, a few more minutes, before she went back to her apartment with only a pissed-off cat for company. It absolutely had nothing to do with Evan.
* * *
Evan saw her sit down, her back to the bar. He nearly leapt over the damn thing to get to her before anyone else arrived to take her order. “Sticking around for a bit?”
“Sometimes I work better with background noise.”
And apparently she sat in bars on Tuesday nights working instead of going home. “Can I get you something? Same as before?”
“I’ll take an Irish coffee.”
“Whipped cream?”
She raised a dark eyebrow. “Obviously.”
He smiled at her delightfully old-fashioned order. They had a bevy of over-priced after-dinner concoctions, but she went for the thing his grandma ordered. Their pot of coffee had run nearly dry. He took a whiff and threw it out. A splash of whiskey and a dollop of whipped cream would take the edge off the burnt dregs of the pot, but his pride wouldn’t let him serve her an inferior drink. Plus, the delay was an excuse to talk to her again.
“I had to start a new pot of coffee, so your drink will be a few minutes. Sorry for the delay.” If he peeked over her shoulder to see what she was working on, who would blame him? He might not work there anymore, but he still followed capitol goings-on pretty closely. It was a hazard of both his former and his current occupations. “What are you working on?”
“Dissecting some bullshit amendments to this budget bill. This asshole thinks he can sneak in revoking state funding for reproductive healthcare for low-income people if he substitutes word salad for ‘planned’ and ‘parenthood.’ Like I’m just going to do a fucking term search through the document instead of reading it. I see you, motherfucker.”
Evan sat, unable to help himself in the presence of her righteous, cursing anger. “Which motherfucker? There are a lot of them.”
“Barnhardt.”
“Ah. Yeah, he’ll do that. The trick is to point out all the loopholes he’s creating by refusing to name the thing. He’s a buffoon, but he’s a buffoon from a heavily gerrymandered district who’s nearly impossible to unseat. God knows we’ve tried.”
“We? Didn’t you give this up?” She arched an eyebrow at him again. “And I know how to do my job. His language is so convoluted he’s left holes the size of an armored fucking tank in it. I’m half-tempted to keep it so we can exploit it later.”
“But then you’re fighting both sides. Better to expose what he’s trying to do now. Send it to Elena Alvarez, she’s local action outreach for reproductive care. I’d bet anything she’s reading it and cursing the guy right now too, but she’s a good person to have on your side and Nancy appreciates having an A rating from them come election season.”
“Thanks for the tip, but I emailed her three days ago. We’re meeting on Friday to talk strategic partnerships.”
“Of course you are.”
“Shouldn’t that pot of coffee be ready by now?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He left to fetch the coffee and make her drink. She almost made him miss being a part of it. Verbally sparring with her—and losing—was fun. Commiserating over the sad state of districting, the never-ending uphill battle to preserve basic fucking rights, that was not fun. That was what had sent him into a tailspin, the day in, day out nature of never being able to do enough.
Lex gave him hairy eyeball from the other end of the bar. They were winding down for the night; he should be helping her prep for closing. But he wanted to sit with Tessa and talk about this bullshit budget bill. He enjoyed his co-workers, but it wasn’t the same as being with a bunch of wonks day in and day out. It wasn’t the same as knowing who to squeeze behind closed doors, who to name and shame in public—and Barnhardt needed to be named and shamed every time his greasy hands touched a piece of legislation, fake-Christian, pandering bullshit artist that he was.
Evan’s hand started to shake as his heart pounded, the bottle of whiskey in his hand clattering against the others as he pulled it off the shelf to make Tessa’s drink. This was why he couldn’t do it. He could feel his blood pressure soar as his mind grabbed hold of the problem and wouldn’t let go. He couldn’t let go of the rage and frustration when he’d walked those halls. So he’d had to leave.
He needed to make Tessa’s drink, deliver it to her, and walk away.
2
Tessa wanted to be immersed in her work when Evan brought her drink to the table. But she was too busy wondering why on Earth, when he so clearly ate, slept, and breathed this stuff, did he leave Senator Sheehan’s team. Talking to him made her miss her friends, her comrades in arms, the people who would help her tear this bill to pieces and put it back together into something that didn’t completely screw over the residents of this state. Evan obviously had the same passion, yet he’d walked away.
“Why’d you leave the state house?” she asked without looking up as he set her drink in front of her, small spoon rattling against the saucer.
Evan sat
heavily and scrubbed his hand through his beard. The beard that looked like it would be soft, and she was not going to think crush-like thoughts while asking him serious questions, dammit.
“Truthfully? I nearly had a nervous breakdown.”
She set the spoon she had just picked up back on the saucer. “Oh.”
“It’s not a secret. If you asked Nancy or any of the staffers, they’d tell you I burned out, but it means the same thing.”
“So you quit instead of seeking treatment?” She couldn’t believe anyone would have let him give up without getting help.
“I quit and I sought treatment. By the time I left, I was barely eating, couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stay and get well at the same time.”
“Don’t you miss it?” She couldn’t imagine a life away from this. Losing sucked but winning, making progress, seeking justice, doing better for the people they represented was everything. The humiliation of being dumped for better campaign wife material might have sent her fleeing Hallowell, but they’d have to pull her out of public service kicking and screaming, low pay, terrible hours and all. Leaving this life wasn’t an option.
“Not enough to make me go back to it. At worst now, if I screw up someone’s drink, a server gets yelled at for my mistake, and I feel awful when that happens, but lives don’t hang in the balance of whether or not I make someone’s Gin Fizz just so.”
“I get that.” She didn’t, but it seemed like the right thing to say. The fact that lives were on the line kept her going. “And hey, I appreciate the tip about Elena, even if I didn’t need it. I’m sure you know lots of other things that could give the new kid a leg up.”
He stood, reminding her that he was at work and this was not a social call. “No problem.” His lips thinned behind his beard, like he was weighing the cost of the words that wanted to come out of his mouth. “Listen, if you need a hand with anything, advice or whatever, I’m here most nights.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He left. Tessa scooped what was left of her flattening whipped cream onto the spoon, but it didn’t help bring the bill back into focus. Her brain focused on Evan. He was everything Jacob wasn’t. Evan had been so committed to helping people he’d made himself literally sick. He looked healthy now, strong and smart and forthright and he wasn’t going to turn around years later and run for office on a platform she’d basically written.
She texted Hailey.
Tessa: Nancy bought me planner stickers.
Hailey: That’s fucking adorable. Told you this would be good for you.
Tessa: Also, the bartender? Used to be a staffer for Sheehan. And is hot. And smart.
Three dots appeared and rippled. Hailey was either writing a novel, or she was typing and deleting repeatedly.
Hailey: Yay for you having pants feels for anyone who’s not Jacob. What’s his name?
Tessa: Evan?
The dots appeared again, then a photo from what looked like a campaign event. Evan was in it, but not the Evan she’d met. In the picture, he was smiling, but his clean-shaven face was gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t been kidding.
Hailey: This Evan? According to Google, he graduated top of his class, has a public policy Masters with a specialty in housing, and abruptly left Sheehan’s staff after the last election. Please tell me he does not currently look like he needs serious rescuing, because you and I would have to have words about your taste in men. Again.
Tessa: That’s him. But that picture looks like his distant cousin or something. He’s…softer. Plus beard.
Hailey: Beard is good. Healthy human is good. The dude in that picture looks like he would pass out on top of you.
Tessa: I’m not going to sleep with him. He might be a useful person to know. I don’t want to make it weird.
Hailey: Like you need help figuring out the lay of the land down there. You do need help exorcising your shitbag ex. Bang the bartender.
Tessa rolled her eyes. So she had a crush; she wasn’t going to do anything about it but look. She’d finished her drink while texting Hailey. It was a pale comparison to actually having her best friend there with her to talk to over a cocktail, but it worked. She wasn’t getting anything else done tonight, so she scooped her things into her bag and headed for the restroom. It was a short walk home, but even a short walk was made worse by having to pee.
And because Evan was right, and she’d never worked in a restaurant, she’d never picked up the kind of spatial awareness that would have kept her from running smack into him. Again.
* * *
Evan reached out to steady Tessa. This time he didn’t take his hands off her arms as soon as she regained her balance. She was so close, and her body was warm under his hands, he wanted to know how soft she was under that sweater. She looked up and stuttered an apology that he barely registered, holding her gaze as he slid his hands slowly, carefully up her arms, following the slope of her shoulders to the tempting column of bare skin at her neck.
She lifted her face, lips parted, cheeks pink, brown eyes wide. His fingers brushed her collar. “Tell me no.”
Her eyes closed. She took a deep, stuttering breath, like she was carefully making a decision, and inched closer. “I don’t want to say no.”
He kissed her. Bent his head, wrapped his hands in her hair and pressed his lips to hers. He tasted coffee and whiskey on her mouth. His hands slipped from her nape down her back, holding her at the waist, wanting to feel her body against his. Her hands had landed at his chest when she ran into him, and he shivered with want as her bag hit the floor with a thud and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer, pushing them against the wall in the narrow hallway between the bar and the kitchen.
He was at work. He was making out with a girl in the hallway like a teenager. He didn’t care. Until a throat cleared loudly next to them. Tessa jumped away from him like she’d been scalded, hair mussed, gaze on the floor, face flaming even in the dim light. She scrambled to pick up her dropped bag, Lex watching the whole thing with a smirk.
“I have to go.” Tessa didn’t meet his eyes. He couldn’t let her leave like this.
“Lex, can you give me a second?” He put his hands on Tessa’s shoulders and bent his knees to look her in the eye. “Please don’t go. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded. He took off around the corner to where Lex was restocking glasses from a dish rack. She shook her head at him. “Don’t even ask, just go.”
“I owe you.”
“Cover my shift tomorrow and we’ll call it square.”
Wednesday was pub trivia night. Drunk know-it-alls arguing over points and accusing rival teams of using their phones was no one’s favorite pastime, and a shift Evan usually avoided like the plague. But if he could leave right now, it might be worth it.
“Fine. I’m in. Thank you.”
He was relieved to find Tessa still standing in the hallway, waiting for him. He fumbled for words. It had been a long time since he’d asked a woman he’d just met to…whatever was going to happen tonight. Get a drink somewhere? Go home with him?
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Lex is going to finish closing up. Do you—” he took a deep breath “—Do you want to go somewhere?” Real smooth.
“What did you have in mind?”
A bar. My bed. Your bed. A bed. Anywhere I can keep kissing you. “A drink?”
“I’ve already had two.”
“A coffee?” He was screwing this up. He’d never been good at this part. Relationships that slowly formed through a combination of attraction and long-term proximity were more his speed. And the occasional furious hookup when a good, hard fuck was the only way to relieve the stress of his old life. Before having the energy to get it up for a good, hard fuck had been laughably impossible.
“I could do that.”
He let out a sigh of relief. “There’s a place that’s open late around the corner. I just need to grab
my jacket.”
He resisted the urge to take her hand as they walked to the café. He settled across from her in the snug confines of a deep wooden booth across from a roaring fire. Tessa ordered a decaf latte and looked at him with surprise when he ordered an herbal tea.
“I can’t actually drink coffee anymore. Stress kind of ruined my stomach.”
“Then why did you offer to go out for coffee?”
“Because it’s a normal date-ish thing to do? And I know you drink coffee, and I’m fine drinking tea. They have a really good selection here.”
“Is this a date?” Of course she had latched on to that.
“Date-ish.”
“Listen, I—” She took a deep breath, and Evan braced himself for the let-down. “I liked kissing you. But I’m not in a place to do dating. I just got here, and I have an unbelievable shitload of work to do. Well, you’d believe it because you’ve been there.”
“I know. If you just want to talk state house stuff, I get it. But I liked kissing you, too. If you just wanted to blow off some steam…”
* * *
It was tempting. So, so tempting, to think of taking him home. It would kill so many of the birds circling her like vultures. Moving stress, work stress, purging Jacob from her system. Hailey had told her to bang the bartender, maybe she should listen for once. She liked kissing him. He did give her pants feels. Evan was smart, hot, and if the kissing was any indication, the sex could be exactly what she needed right now.
She’d never been great at casual hookups and she wasn’t ready for a relationship with anyone, let alone a former wonk who’d given up hope and quit. Given the extent of the damage to his body and his mental health, she could almost forgive him for that. Maybe she needed someone she wouldn’t get attached to. She had friends who crossed the aisle to hate fuck away the stress, though it had never been Tessa’s style. Evan wasn’t on the other side, but he wasn’t part of her world anymore. Maybe she was justifying shit to herself because she wanted to kiss him again.
Rogue Ever After (The Rogue Series Book 7) Page 22