“So, is it safe to assume that you haven’t heard from Lily?” Robert pulled up a chair and took a seat by Ford. The votes were cast, and all that was left to do was wait. Robert could afford to be a friend and not a campaign advisor now.
The team had been much less angry than he’d feared after he filmed the spot and bought the airtime. They’d met the news with a resignation that told him they didn’t expect much of anything from him after the way he’d mucked up the fiancée portion of their strategy. He supposed everything else had fallen apart so irreparably, they couldn’t fault him for a last-ditch effort at scavenging what he could of his personal life. They’d grudgingly admitted that he probably hadn’t made things any worse and that some voters might be moved by his sincerity. There was only one voter that he cared about, and she apparently wasn’t moved.
“Nope, not a word. I guess that’s it for us.” He sipped from the water bottle. “I gave it my best shot, but it’s not going to work out. Sometimes things are too far gone to fix.”
He rubbed his hands together and bounced his knees, summoning the energy and enthusiasm he’d need to face the crowd waiting on the other side of the wall. Win or lose tonight, he had an obligation to the team, to the voters, and to the party guests to put his best face forward. His personal problems would still be around in the morning, and he could wallow in his misery then. Tonight he had to be professional and play the politician. People had given countless hours, incredible amounts of money, and their votes to get him where he was, and he had to repay them with enthusiasm. All he needed was a few more minutes alone to psych himself up, to get his signature charm ramped up enough to be a good host to his guests.
“Anything I need to know about the speeches?” He indicated the folder Robert had given him.
“Nope, they’re both here, and they should be exactly as you expect. Everything should be perfect, but it wouldn’t hurt to take one last look.”
“Okay then.” He halfheartedly flipped through the pages. He’d been over both speeches so carefully already, and they looked fine. He didn’t have the energy to waste on more proofing. Checking the time, he stood. “Should be about time, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, let me go see if we have an answer yet.” Robert left him alone with the speeches and his thoughts.
In moments, Ford would know if he’d be making or receiving a concession call to Sam Coldwell. Whatever the result, the last thing he wanted to do was talk to that guy. Coldwell had been at the source of all his problems lately, and he wasn’t ready to forgive and forget. Politics or not, he’d done his level best to destroy his and Lily’s personal lives. As much as Ford had been able to accept his fault in the matter, much of it would never have come about without Coldwell’s actions. He’d keep it quick and cordial, possibly letting his tone tell Mr. Coldwell just what he thought of his campaign tactics, whichever way the vote fell.
Robert burst back through the door with a huge grin on his face, fists in the air victoriously. “Looks like you’ll be getting a phone call soon!”
The rest of the team followed, all smiles, the tension of the last week gone in the face of their triumph. For tonight, at least, the difficulties would be forgotten in the thrill of victory. So the results were in, and Ford was going back to D.C. Sam Coldwell had thrown everything he had at their campaign, but they still won, and it felt pretty good. Another term on his political resume for him, another big win for the campaign advisors. Maybe they could pull together when it was time to aim for the governor’s mansion. It would’ve been better if Lily were there to share the moment, but this was as good as it was going to get. He accepted their hugs, handshakes, and congratulations, thanked them each personally for their stellar work, and paced the room, waiting for the phone to ring.
When it did, a hush fell over the group and Ford counted to three before answering, steadying his breath and mentally preparing himself to speak to the enemy. “Hello.”
“Mr. Richardson? It’s Sam Coldwell. I’m calling to congratulate you on your victory. You fought a good fight, you ran a clean campaign, and you deserve the win. I’m proud to have you represent my interests in Washington. Congratulations, sir.” The voice on the other end of the line was clear and strong, and Ford knew he must be steeling himself against an attack, waiting for Ford to go off on him. As professionals, of course they were expected to gloss over all the personal animosity between them. They’d had trouble keeping things professional during the campaign, though, and anything could happen.
He’d lost the only thing he truly cared about, and whatever he might have thought about Sam Coldwell, it didn’t matter now. The fight had gone out of him when Lily hadn’t come back. Coldwell had started it, but Ford could’ve saved his relationship if only he’d been man enough. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your confidence.” He ended the call and faced his team. The relief on their faces that he hadn’t caused another scandal by calling Coldwell out was unmistakable.
Going off on the man wouldn’t make him feel better, and it would make him look horrible. There was nothing left to do besides address the crowd and party the night away like he was elated with the victory. His years in politics had given him enough practice, so he’d be able to mingle all night, laugh at jokes, and share amusing anecdotes. He could collapse and be miserable later, when he was home. Alone.
“All right, then. We have a full house out there, and everybody is ready to hear the results. Let’s give the people what they want.” He painted the smile on his face and followed his team into the ballroom.
Before they reached the end of the short hall leading to the door, he could hear the crowd. Loud music was playing, people were laughing and chatting, and dishes clinked. With a deep breath, he pushed open the door and beamed at the crowd as the spotlight followed him bounding up the stairs of the stage. He reached the podium and waved, smiling for a moment while the music played, and waited for a break in the noise. The room was full of people wearing the traditional cheesy political accessories everyone associated with Election Night parties: buttons; red, white, and blue top hats; zany sunglasses and vests; the whole nine yards. Signs with his name and slogans were held by revelers, and a disco ball threw splashes of light bathed in red and white around the room. He’d been here before, but it was still a thrill to know that in a few moments the room would erupt with excitement when he made his announcement. Bathing in the anticipation of sharing the news, knowing it would be met with such happiness, cheered him. He’d focus on making his next term worth the voters’ confidence, stop dwelling on things he couldn’t control.
Finally the music died down and the spotlight was firmly on the podium. A couple hundred pairs of eyes were trained on the stage, and everyone held their collective breath. He leaned down to reach the microphone and grinned, savoring the moment.
“I just received a phone call from Sam Coldwell congratulating me on winning this election. We did it!” The crowd went wild, cheering and clapping. Balloons and fat strips of silver confetti dropped from the ceiling, flooding the room and ramping up the excitement tenfold. Ford took a moment to soak it all in. It was so easy to forget that he wasn’t the only one invested in the campaign, and to share the excitement with a roomful of ecstatic people was a rush. He’d worried about having to force his enthusiasm, but he was swept up in the pure energy of the crowd. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for a few more years. This campaign was hard fought and hard won, and I couldn’t have done any of it without my amazing team of advisors…” He held out his arm to indicate the team of seven and clapped for them, blowing a two-handed kiss in their direction. “And the interns, the volunteers, the voters, and the donors. You have no idea how much your support, your hard work, your faith in me, and of course, your campaign donations, mean to me.” The crowd laughed and he continued. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am honored to be your representative, and I will do my best to earn your trust in my next term. Enough talk, let’s party!”
The music s
tarted again, drowning out the crowd’s loud shouts, and he strode across the stage, smiling and waving at the crowd. The signs bobbing amongst the guests blurred into one another, except for one. He stopped dead in his tracks, physically unable to move for a moment as his mind made sense of the words he was reading. In the middle of a sea of faces, a single sign stood out. In bold white letters against a black background, the message was clear: I LOVE YOU, FORD.
Lily.
Here.
Love?
Their eyes met, and everything faded into the background. Gone were the flashing lights, the loud music, the pulsing crowd. Only the two of them, and they couldn’t get to each other fast enough. He cut through the crowd, ignoring the extended hands, congratulations, and pats on the back as he made a beeline to Lily. She waited, radiant and brilliant, for him in the crowd until he finally reached her and swept her into his arms. Holding her tight, twirling once on the dance floor, and vaguely registering that the sign she’d held hit his leg as she let it fall to the floor, he held her. Her scent surrounded him as he breathed her in, setting her down gently but unwilling to let her go. With a gentle hand at her jaw, he tipped her face up until their lips met and kissed her. The kiss asked and answered every question, settled every debt, told them everything they needed to know. The kiss sealed their future and forgave their past. The kiss made every moment of heartbreak fall away, forgotten in the moment.
Lily pressed her cheek to Ford’s and murmured into his ear. “I saw your video. I think it would’ve been cheaper to hire a skywriter.” She laughed, the warmth of her breath on his earlobe sending a shiver down his back.
“You wouldn’t take my calls. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” He shrugged, letting the tension, misery, and uncertainty fall away with the light joke. With her in his arms, every dark moment was forgotten.
She quirked an eyebrow. “Desperate? In that case, I think I’m flattered.”
Ford wrapped his arms around her waist in a loose circle, falling into their familiar rhythm. “You should be. I almost never make expensive apology videos for women.”
With a playful swat on his arm, she laughed. “Almost never?”
“Well, I never want to have to do it again.” He’d never let her go again.
“You won’t have to.” Her brown eyes caught the dancing light of the ballroom, holding his future and all its possibilities.
“I would do anything for you. Anything.”
“I know you would. I didn’t realize it before, but I do now.”
His mind went to the Tiffany box holding her engagement ring sitting on a shelf in his closet. “Will you come home with me tonight?”
A delightfully wicked grin spread across her lips, and she swiveled closer to him, lowering her eyes. “Hmm. You move quickly. What did you have in mind?”
“I want to propose to you.”
The playfulness disappeared as she grew still in his arms. Had he jumped the gun? “Even after everything that’s happened?”
The breath rushed out, relief filling his chest. “Yes, of course after everything. Because of everything. You’re the love of my life, Lily, and I don’t want to wake up another morning without knowing you’ll be my wife.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Go home with me tonight, or be my wife?” He knew the answer, but there could be no doubt between them. Never again would he hold back, withholding affection or devotion to avoid getting hurt. He would make sure Lily knew the love of a man who believed in her, cherished her, and would do anything for her.
“Both.”
“This is seriously the best night of my entire life. I love you, and I’ll spend the rest of our lives making you glad you said yes.”
Crimson Sneak Peek
Sweet Texas Kiss
by Monica Tillery
Gavin Cooper paced the length of the airless office, the old wooden floors creaking beneath his feet, and blew out a frustrated breath. Everything about his father’s death had been drawn out: the illness, the funeral arrangements, even the removal of his hospital bed and equipment from the home. He and his two younger brothers already knew what was in the will, so why the big production now? What he wouldn’t give to, for once, be able to sign a paper without a meeting. But that was reality when your father, Jack Cooper, left behind a hugely successful guacamole company, an incredible legacy of generosity and innovation, and a giant hole in your heart.
“I thought only people on television had to be present for the reading of a will. What is taking him so long?”
His youngest brother, Gage, leaned back in his chair. “It’s pretty sad that I came in from Houston and still managed to get here before Rodney. He better not be billing us for this time.”
Grayson, the middle brother, glanced at the grandfather clock dominating the corner of the office and fiddled with his shiny blue tie. “Rodney couldn’t have picked a worse day to keep us waiting.” His knee bounced up and down, like he might pop out of the chair at any moment. “There was a refrigeration glitch at the plant last night, and in all the panic, I was on a conference call with the foreman all morning. I had to cut him off before everything was settled so I could be here on time, so I’m sure there will be an even bigger mess waiting for me when I finally get back to the office.”
“Avocado emergency at Guac Olé. What else is new?” Gage teased Grayson. “Of all days to have trouble at the plant, it would have to be today, huh? It’s kind of crappy that you have to start dealing with these things right before you take over the company. Dad would’ve gotten a kick out of testing you like that.”
Jack Cooper would have been right at home in Rodney’s office, kicking back and shooting the shit, giving half-useful advice and cracking up over his own jokes. Gavin would give anything for the chance to sit around wasting time with his dad, but that was impossible, and his patience was wearing thin. It was time to wrap this up and start living the life Dad had prepared them for. He had already moved into the family home his dad was leaving to him so he could care for their dad during his long illness, but until it belonged to him legally on paper, it wouldn’t feel like it was his. Gage had moved to Houston, but he was adept at delegating and would have no trouble handling the oil-rich land their father was leaving him. Grayson had lived and breathed guacamole from the time he was old enough to draw a paycheck; he loved his job as CEO at the company their father had built from nothing and was primed to finally take the helm at Guac Olé. He’d basically been running the place for months already.
Rodney Rodgers, their longtime family attorney, pushed through the door in a rush of blustering apologies and excuses, his secretary trailing behind with a teetering stack of folders and a cup of coffee. Rodney took his seat with an audible sigh, thanking and dismissing his secretary with a smile after she deposited his items on the desk. Gavin noticed that, despite the somber reason for their meeting, Gage’s eyes followed the secretary and her figure highlighted by the tight pencil skirt she wore as she left the room. Rodney leaned back and retrieved a cardboard box bearing their last name from the credenza behind him and tapped the top.
“I am so sorry to keep you boys waiting. Jimmy Crowder’s cows got out early this morning and held up traffic. You know how it is.”
Gavin nodded. The last time the Crowder cows got out they’d meandered halfway across town and into the Prentice family’s peach orchard, where they managed to eat half the fallen and low-hanging fruit before Mr. Crowder got around to wrangling them. The poor old man had been so convinced that the fruit was fermented and his cows would get drunk that Gavin stuck around until the last one was safely back behind the fence. Seemed like a lifetime ago now, though it couldn’t have been more than a year or two.
After spending the last several months saying good-bye to his father, returning to normal life was a challenge. He’d resumed his regular work hours at his veterinary clinic and had finally gone back to his evening workouts with Grayson at the gym. When Dad lost his appetite, Gavin stopp
ed cooking at home and started hitting the drive-through more often than not. The extra pounds he’d packed on were becoming noticeable, and he wasn’t ready to admit defeat and end up the only Cooper man with love handles.
“Now that I’m finally here, let’s get started.” Rodney opened a manila file folder holding notes and documents, and took the lid off the cardboard box. “Jack was so proud of you boys, and he wanted you to know that. Ordinarily, I would simply notify the heirs and send them the paperwork, but your father asked me to personally make sure that you receive the things he left for you and make sure you are all clear about the inheritance. Gavin, he wanted you to clear out his safe-deposit box.”
Gavin leaned forward and took the envelope the attorney offered, opening it to find a small safe-deposit box key and some paperwork. “Sure, no problem.”
Rodney looked into the cardboard box and pulled out a larger, decorative key. “Gage, this one is for you.”
Gage took the key and turned over the attached white note card. Son, the key to everything is happiness.
“Happiness and twenty-five percent of Guac Olé, I guess,” Rodney said with a soft laugh. “He signed over one-quarter of the company to you, which I believe you were expecting.”
“And the land, right?” Gage closed his fist around the key.
Rodney scanned the documents on his desk, his brow furrowed. “No, no land. If you’re referring to the property at 12332 Pine Ramble Drive, that now belongs to a Miss Charlotte Wilkinson.”
“Charlotte Wilkinson? Why the hell would he give my land to her?” Gage sounded more perplexed than angry, and Gavin searched his memory for any other Charlottes his dad might have known. The only one he knew of was a horrible environmental scientist who had been making his brother’s life miserable, butting heads with him on several of his oil company’s drilling sites. Gage had been promised the land for as long as he could remember—the land and the oil there played a major role in his brother’s future plans. His father changing course at the last moment, without telling any of them, made no sense.
Love Connection Page 48