Incumbent

by Joanne Schwehm

  She pulled a Northern Ridge HS hoodie over her head and smiled. “I’m ready.”

  Without giving her the option, I held her hand, which she didn’t seem to mind. “So, tell me about your day.”

  It was driving me nuts not knowing why she went out with Mason rather than coming out with me today. Yes, she’d known him longer and they were best friends, but I really thought she’d felt something when we kissed yesterday, just as I had.

  “Mason has a tendency to spring things on me. I really had no intention of going anywhere, and I definitely didn’t want to get covered in mud.” She shrugged and slid her free hand into the pocket of her hoodie.

  “Mud?”

  Where the hell did they go? Is that why they both looked freshly showered?

  She giggled. “Yes. Mason took me to a dirt track and we rode ATVs, but with the rain we had last night, it was more like a mud slick. By the time we got back to my place, we were both covered in it. I’d just finished my shower when you came over.”

  I nodded, but my thoughts had stuck on Lucy in the shower. A visual filled my head, and the desire to be the one in the shower with her consumed me. I stopped, and she turned to look at me.

  Did I dare ask if they took individual showers? No. I couldn’t. But I was feeling oddly possessive, which didn’t make much sense. Yesterday, I’d had Lucy all to myself, and that was what I wanted today. But Mason had been the lucky one, not me.

  “What’s wrong, Drake?” She studied me carefully, her brown eyes scanning my face.

  Before I knew it, my lips were on hers in an all-consuming kiss meant to claim her. I drew her closer and slid my tongue over the seam of her lips until they parted. She tasted like mint, and I couldn’t get enough of her. When my hand slipped from the back of her neck to just above the curve of her ass, a soft moan escaped her lips. I swallowed that moan—took ownership—and decided right then and there I wanted all her moans and pleasure to belong to me.

  When our lips broke apart, I didn’t let her go. We were pressed against each other, and if we weren’t in public, I would have claimed her right there on the spot. I cursed the thick barrier of her sweatshirt between us, but was grateful I could still feel her soft curves.

  “Let me be the one,” I said softly.

  With narrowed eyes, she leaned her head back to study me. “The one to do what?”

  “The one who makes your heart beat harder. The one who makes you smile as if you don’t have a care in the world.” I reached up to cup her cheek. “Mason was a lucky man today.”

  She blinked a few times before opening her mouth and then closing it again. Looking up at me quizzically, she asked, “What do you mean?”

  “He spent the day with you and knows you the way I want to.”

  When she remained silent, we turned and continued our walk, which concerned me a bit. I’d hoped she’d respond to my comment and tell me she wanted to get to know me too, but she didn’t.

  We came upon a quaint neighborhood park with several swing sets, the swings swaying gently in the breeze. I motioned for Lucy to sit, which she did, and I stepped behind to push her. As soon as she swung forward, a lighthearted giggle bubbled from her. She leaned forward and then back, her chestnut-colored hair fluttering with each pass of the swing.

  “This is great!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining. “I haven’t been on a swing since I was a kid.”

  Her exuberance made me smile. Carefree Lucy, this was what I wanted. No pressure, just fun. So much better than hobnobbing at stuffy formal events.

  She straightened on the backswing and my hands landed on her ass to push her again. Grinning to myself, I realized this was the best idea I’d had.

  Another giggle escaped her as her hood bounced on her back with the momentum of the swing. I wanted to know what she was thinking, but didn’t want to upset her again, so I bit my tongue.

  After a few more pushes, she jumped off on the upswing and landed flawlessly, throwing her arms into the air like a gymnast landing a dismount in the Olympics. Elated, she spun around and bounced up to me before she threw her arms around my neck and briefly squeezed me.

  Yes, this was definitely my best idea.

  “Were you a gymnast in school?” I asked. She certainly had the toned body of one.

  “No. I was a cheerleader.” Her eyes widened as if she just told me she’d robbed a bank.

  “You know, I was a football player.” I crossed my arms and grinned at her. “How about a cheer?”

  Her face puckered as if she’d tasted something sour, and she shook her head. “It was a long time ago, and I really didn’t care for it. The Lions sucked, but I bet you caught the eye of many pompom shakers.”

  “You know, if you were on the sideline at my games, I would’ve wanted to be the quarterback.” When she stilled and looked away, I asked warily, “Did I say something wrong?”

  Still avoiding my eyes, she walked away from the swings and asked, “So, what position did you play?”

  It didn’t escape me that she’d avoided yet another question. I stepped into pace with her on the sidewalk, wishing we were still holding hands like we had before. But her body language seemed closed off now, so I followed her lead and didn’t push on either front.

  “Tight end. I was in line for a Division One scholarship, but I got injured during our last home game.”

  Thinking of that injury always brought with it regrets. It had not only impacted my football career, but also prevented me from entering the military like I’d planned. That one night had nearly devastated my life, but I’d eventually regrouped and refocused my need for service to my country in another direction—politics.

  Genuine empathy was etched onto Lucy’s features. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

  “You know what would make me feel better?” I grinned at her. “Another kiss.”

  She shook her head. “Drake, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Before I could respond, she turned away from me. All I could do was stare at the back of her head.

  Something was going on with her. Was it me? Had I been reading her all wrong? I didn’t think so, but she was definitely running hot and cold.

  “Lucy?” Internally I begged her to turn and look at me, but she didn’t.

  “I think we should head back.”

  She kept a pretty good pace, and I walked alongside her as we made our way back to her apartment.

  “Are you going to explain why kissing me isn’t a good idea? It’s not as if we haven’t kissed already. And if I do say so myself, it was rather spectacular.”

  I smiled, hoping to evoke the same response from her, but sadly I didn’t. Her beautiful face remained stoic.

  We walked up the two steps leading to her front door, and she unlocked it. “Would you like to come in for some coffee or something?”

  You bet your sweet ass, I do. And I’ll take some answers on the side, please.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Lucy let us into her apartment and went right for the coffeepot after urging me to have a seat on the couch. Once the coffee was brewing, she pulled off the hoodie and joined me in the living room, choosing to sit at the far end of the couch, away from me.

  “So, are you going to tell me why you don’t want to kiss me?” I asked.

  I couldn’t let it go. This girl’s evasiveness rivaled a politician’s, and it intrigued the hell out of me.

  She reached up to twine a strand of her hair around her finger, a gesture I’d seen her do before, and it dawned on me this was what she did when she was uncomfortable or nervous.

  Damn. That’s not what I wanted.

  Finally, she said, “I’m not the right person for you. Like I said before, we’re two entirely different people.”

  I chuckled. “Well, that’s a good thing, or I’d want to kiss myself.”

  Her lips formed a tight smile. She was clearly not amused.

  I scooted a little closer to her on the couch and pushed the few strands of hair
she’d been playing with behind her ear. “Look, just because two people don’t come from the same place or have different opinions, it doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be together. Yes, we’re different people. I understand that, but you need to explain why that’s such a bad thing.”

  She didn’t blink; she just stared at me while I begged her with my eyes to communicate with me. Could she see how much I wanted her?

  Then a thought hit me, and it curled into a ball in the pit of my stomach.

  “Do you think you’re going to get hurt? Has someone hurt you in the past?”

  She started to lower her face, but my index finger halted her chin, and she shook her head.

  “No. I’m afraid of the opposite.”

  My shoulders dropped. “You’re afraid of hurting me?” I traced her cheekbone from her adorable freckle to the corner of her lip, which was curved down. “The only way you can hurt me is by not letting whatever this is between us to happen.”

  “Drake . . .” She pull away and visibly relaxed when a beep sounded from the kitchen. “The coffee is ready.”

  I snatched her hand. “I don’t care about the coffee. I need you to talk to me. Please tell me what it is.”

  Frowning, she said, “Look, this is what I know. Public figures are scrutinized for everything they say and do, and so are the people around them. If we’re together, then my problems become your problems, and you don’t need that. You’re seeking reelection, and you’re the best senator this state has produced in decades. Not to mention you want the presidency one day. It’s too much responsibility. I can’t risk that.”

  My chest swelled a little at her praise. “So you think I’m one of the best senators?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think I’d make a good president?”

  “No, I think you’d make a great one.”

  “Does that mean I’m a smart man and make intelligent and rational decisions?”

  She nodded and finally gave me a shy smile before she said, “Yes, of course.”

  “Good. So it’s settled.”

  I crossed my arms in front of me as I waited for it to click with her. When she continued to squint at me in confusion, I helped her along.

  “I’m a smart man, and you agreed that I make rational decisions. So I’m deciding that you need to give us a chance. If you disagree with me, then you’re reneging on everything you just said.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not fair.”

  “But it’s true. Just give us a chance; that’s all I’m asking. Whatever it is you think will hurt me, I promise you, it won’t.”

  I stood up. “Coffee?”

  She nodded. We both took our coffee black and sat back down. For a moment, the only sounds were our breathing and the slight slurp as we sipped.

  “So,” she said, peering at me over the rim of her coffee cup, “I read that Grissett is the Democrats’ frontrunner.”

  I frowned. “He is.” The mere mention of that man’s name irritated me. I knew he would probably be my opposition, but he was the type of politician that gave us all a bad name.

  Her expression turned thoughtful. “Of all the candidates, I’m surprised he’s leading in the polls. He seems like an ass.”

  When Lucy wrinkled her nose in distaste, I chuckled. “See? We do have the same views.”

  “I suppose we do,” she said, giving me a slight smile, “when it comes to certain things.”

  Relieved that she seemed to be relaxing again, I decided not to push my luck. Getting to know Lucy and gain her trust was going to take time and patience, it seemed. Something had obviously happened to her that kept her from feeling comfortable with me. Whatever it was, I wanted to help her get over it, because I intended to spend a lot of time with her.

  “It’s late,” I said reluctantly. “I should be going.”

  We walked to her front door and before I left, I took her face in my hands. She looked up at me, her eyes wide as I rested my thumbs on her temples and brought my lips close to hers. I could feel her heart rate increase beneath my fingertips, and her breathing changed. But it wasn’t until her lips parted that I kissed her.

  My hopes rose as she reciprocated, resting her hands on my biceps. She didn’t push me away. Instead, she held on tight as I gave her an easy good-night kiss.

  “Good night, Lucy.”

  The door closed behind me, and as I headed to my car, my thoughts spun. I couldn’t wrap my head around why she didn’t feel as if she was good enough for me. Lucy was beautiful, intelligent, funny, and sexy as hell. It amazed me to think she thought she might hurt me in some way.

  It was then and there I vowed to make sure she changed her mind. I’d make her realize she wasn’t only good enough for me, but was perfect.

  Chapter 5

  ~ Lucy ~

  Mason met me for our morning coffee and chat in the teachers’ lounge. The room was dreary, so beige and boring. The only color was that of the American flag, which naturally reminded me of a particular senator.

  “Good morning, Mason.” I smiled and plopped down next to him at one of the two round tables in the lounge, handing him the latte I’d bought him at Starbucks on the way in.

  “Thank you for this.” He took a sip and studied me over his cup. “You seem very chipper this morning. Did you have a good time after I left yesterday?”

  “Thanks for a fun day. I had a blast.” I smiled, hoping he would drop it, but knowing he wouldn’t. “Mud and all.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” he said, pinning me with a meaningful look. “I meant afterward, with Drake.”

  Two teachers came in with one of the secretaries and sat at the table next to us, but not before ogling my coffee partner.

  I leaned across the table. “They want you,” I said in a low voice with a wink, and he gave them a quick glance before dismissing my comment.

  Marie, the music teacher, looked brightly at me from the next table. “Lucy, I saw Senator Prescott in your room the other day. Do you think he’d come into my class?” She winked. “I bet he has a great instrument.”

  The other teachers snickered, and I pressed my lips together to hold back a snarky retort for the teachers acting no older than the students they taught.

  Smiling sweetly, I said, “I really wouldn’t know, but I’m sure if you contact his office, they could help you.”

  And so it began. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of—unwanted attention.

  Longing for the sanctuary of my classroom, I stood and headed for the door. Mason followed and slipped my heavy tote bag off my shoulder so he could carry it for me.

  Since I taught history and government, the walls of my classroom were plastered with maps and pictures of past presidents. Scanning them as I made my way to my desk, I thought about how bizarre and incredibly wonderful it would be to have Drake’s picture hanging on my wall one day.

  Mason set my bag on my desk as he perched next to it. “Drake seemed like a pretty cool guy.”

  “He is and much more. But I just don’t know if the two of us getting together is a good idea or not.”

  “Luce, do you like him? Because your face lights up when you talk about him, and when Marie mentioned his name, you looked as if you could scratch her eyes out.”

  Shrugging, I said, “I hardly know him.”

  “Did you kiss him?”

  Avoiding his gaze, I pulled the stack of graded tests from my tote bag, trying to formulate an answer. I didn’t want to lie to my best friend, but I didn’t want to kiss and tell either. Besides, I was confused enough about what to do with Drake without Mason jumping on the matchmaking bandwagon.

  The first bell rang, and for once I was glad my day was starting. As students made their way to their seats, chatting loudly, I glanced at Mason.

  “You’d better get to your class.”

  Mason stood and headed for the door, but turned before he reached it, calling out, “This conversation isn’t over.”

  And that was where he w
as wrong. Our conversation about Senator Prescott was definitely over.

  • • •

  Later in the morning, I was reviewing notes for the end-of-the-year syllabus when there was a knock on my door. Jeanette, one of the office secretaries, was standing in my doorway, holding a vase filled with white hydrangeas and red roses.

  “These came for you, Ms. Washburn.”

  My students looked up from the test they were taking and snickered, glancing at each with knowing grins.

  Jeanette set them on my desk and ran a finger over a rose petal as she gave me a sideways glance. “They look very patriotic.”

  “Thank you for delivering them.”

  She grinned at me, but turned and left without saying anything more.

  “Who are they from, Ms. Washburn?” a student called out.

  “Let’s get back to the lesson.”

  Needing a moment of privacy, I turned to write tomorrow’s assignment on the whiteboard. The kids groaned in disappointment while I allowed a huge smile to take over my face.

  Once my last class of the day ended and I was alone, I finally read the card attached to the flowers. I had an idea who they were from, but the card still needed to be read.

  Thinking of you and all the ways I’m going to persuade you to be with me.

  —Drake

  I reread his words, written in a bold script that had to be his, and leaned over to inhale the scent of the flowers. My stomach fluttered and my pulse raced.

  It would be rude not to thank him, so I picked up my phone to send him a text.

  LUCY: Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.

  He responded within seconds.

  DRAKE: You’re welcome. Is your last class over?

  LUCY: It just ended.

  DRAKE: Are you leaving now?

  LUCY: Yes.

  DRAKE: Do you have plans this weekend?

  LUCY: No.