The Lying Season

by Linde, K. A.

  “That’s great,” I said. “Welcome…to the team.”

  “Thanks,” he said softly.

  Brown eyes met green in the space between us. There was so much more that needed to be said. So much that had been left unsaid when I returned home all those years ago. I’d never thought that I’d see him again. And now that I was, I had no fucking clue what to do.

  “Well, come on, Sam. Lark is late to her banquet meeting, and the mayor just got in,” Kelly said in her default chipper tone. She strode out of the break room and called over her shoulder, “You’ll get your first intro on day one!”

  “Ugh, my meeting,” I groaned, turning in place to follow Kelly.

  “Wait,” Sam said.

  He reached out and this time gripped my elbow. I turned back to face him with wide, shocked eyes. He towered over me. I’d forgotten until that moment how huge he was. All tall, wide-shouldered Southern boy who actually knew manual labor with calluses on his fingers and biceps for days. A man who liked to use his hands…in all the best ways.

  “What?” I whispered. I was conscious of Kelly mere feet away and the meeting I was currently supposed to be in.

  “We need to talk. Later.”

  A dormant, broken butterfly wing beat for the first time in ages. I hated my heart for responding that way. But fuck, despite all the shit we’d gone through and how we’d both fucked up so royally, it was Sam.

  “Okay.”

  He released me slowly, almost reluctantly. Something uncurled further in my chest…or perhaps lower, much lower, at the way his fingers withdrew from my skin. Oh fuck, I was screwed.

  I scurried away from him. My heart raced, and my hands were clammy. I couldn’t seem to get my head on straight.

  Sam Rutherford was in New York City. Something I’d never thought he would do. He certainly hadn’t considered it for me. And now, what the hell was I going to do? After what had happened, could I disentangle the anger and pain from the love and lust? Could I find a way to move on from what had happened and work next to him?

  It felt impossible.

  Honestly impossible.

  And by the time my meeting was over, I hadn’t come to any better conclusion. In fact, I’d sat through the whole thing with my head in the clouds. Which was something I absolutely could not afford. I had too much to do to sacrifice even one meeting.

  Somehow, just seeing Sam for a few minutes had left me feeling like the inexperienced twenty-four-year-old girl who had never been on a campaign before. Rather than the deputy campaign manager to the mayor of New York City.

  I needed to shake it off. Get him out of my head. I’d worked hard to help Leslie get elected as the first female mayor. I absolutely deserved to be one of the highest-ranking people on this team. Many people had come and gone since we started, but I’d stuck with her, forgoing other campaigns to work with a candidate that I believed in. Which was the whole reason I’d moved to Madison six years ago for the presidential campaign in the first place.

  Before the campaign, my parents had controlled every aspect of my life. I was their perfect little Upper East Side princess. Read: monster. I had all the right friends and boyfriends and high school accolades. I attended Brown, of course, because I was a legacy and got a business degree with the goal of taking over the company. Even when I decided to get a law degree, it didn’t ever feel like a choice. I went to Columbia Law so that I could work with my parents and be close to home.

  But then something happened. Something changed. Governor Woodhouse held a rally at Columbia. English had heard he was an awesome speaker and dragged me and Whitley to the event. Then I heard him speak. Heard the eloquent speech he delivered to the packed, entranced audience, and something shifted in me. This was a man I could get behind. A race I could believe in.

  I applied for a position the next day in every swing state.

  Two weeks later, I’d gotten the job in Madison.

  It was the only real choice I’d ever made in my entire life. And it was the start of everything. The start of getting out from under my parents’ thumb and finding my own life.

  And then there was Sam.

  I shook my head. He was all jumbled with that choice. Inherently connected to it in a way that I had never been able to pull apart. How the fuck was I going to do it now?

  My phone buzzed just as I stepped back into my office, prepared to lock myself away all afternoon and obsess endlessly about this issue. As one did.

  Just got to Coffee Grounds and managed to snag a table. I’ll grab our drinks. See you soon!

  “Oh, right. Fuck.” I’d forgotten about my coffee meeting with English. I jumped out of my seat and grabbed my purse on the way. “I’m out for a meeting. I’ll be back in thirty.”

  “Roger that,” Aspen said. She gave me a little salute as I passed.

  I was out the door and jogging the few blocks to my favorite coffee shop in the East Village. Somehow, I managed to only be ten minutes late. It might be a record.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said, plopping into the seat across from my friend.

  English removed her enormous sunglasses and brushed her long Hollywood blonde hair off of her shoulders. “You’re always late.”

  “Well, yeah, but this time, I have a reason.”

  “You were in a meeting for the campaign and forgot?” She laughed as my eyes rounded and pushed my drink toward me. “I know you too well. Now, drink up before it gets cold.”

  I took a fortifying drink of my coffee. This was going to suck.

  “Sam is back,” I blurted out.

  Her bright blue eyes rounded. “Sam? Like, the Sam?”

  “Yeah. Yep. He’s here. In New York City. And I don’t know what to do,” I told her in a rush.

  “Wait, what?” she spat. “Sam Rutherford, the guy who did you dirty on the last campaign, the guy who ran your heart over with his truck and then blamed you? That Sam? Please tell me you didn’t actually talk to him.”

  “He just got a job in my fucking office,”

  “No way. What a douche!” she gasped out. “He had the nerve to get a job where you already work? What, did he use you as a reference to get an in?”

  I shook my head. “No. As far as I know, he didn’t even know that I worked there. He thought I was still working for my parents.”

  “Ew.”

  “Tell me about it. But it was what he’d thought was the plan before our fallout. So, I think he probably didn’t know I worked for the mayor. It’s not like my picture is on the website.”

  “Girl, we are going to need to get something stronger than coffee to deal with this conversation,” English said.

  “You’re not wrong,” I said, gulping down the coffee. “What am I going to do? He’s in legal. It’s probably the department I deal with the least, but it’s not a big office. I’m going to have to see him every day from now until November.”

  English reached into her bag and pulled out a planner that was stuffed to the brim with notes and tabs and stickers. She flipped until she found a blank page, immediately going into fixer mode. She might look like a movie star, but she chose to handle their publicity and generally clean up everyone’s messes instead of acting herself. Her work as a celebrity publicist was top notch. She was one of the best in the business back in LA. And she worked nearly as hard and as many hours as I did to prove it, and that was saying something.

  “Let’s make a list of what we can do,” she said. “First things first. I’m not saying that I know someone who could plant blow on him so that he could get fired, but…I do work with rockstars.”

  I burst into laughter. “I love you, but no. I can’t do that. Bad Lark might have considered that option, but that’s not who I want to be anymore.”

  “You act like Bad Lark is a physically different entity than you,” English said, jotting the word blow down on the Maybe list.

  “I hope she is,” I said with a shrug. “I don’t want to get him fired. I don’t want to jeopardize his career or anyt
hing. I just…don’t know what to do.”

  English put her pen down. She sighed. “Because you still care about him.”

  I bit my lip. “And I hate him.”

  “And you’re wondering if this is your second chance.”

  I immediately shook my head and then frowned and nodded slowly. “I don’t know. Can we get past what we did to each other? Five years is a long time. I’m a different person than I was. Maybe he’s different too.”

  “I’m going to go on record and say this is a bad idea,” English said, adding second chance to the No list. “You just had to deal with all the Thomas shit. That asshole still works as a senior executive for St. Vincent’s Enterprise. I mean, your parents actually sided with your ex-boyfriend over you in the fallout. I don’t think you’re ready to head straight into Sam-level territory. Can’t you just find a nice, normal guy?”

  “Says the girl married to a movie star.”

  English laughed. “I mean, we’re not all lucky enough to find a Josh Hutch. But I know there’s a guy out there for you. I just don’t know if it’s Sam Rutherford.”

  “Jesus, I need to get it together. He’s just an ex, right?” I glanced up to find her nodding approvingly. “He’s just this guy I dated for a year, like, five years ago.”

  “Exactly. I mean, you still hang out with your crew, and haven’t you slept with Penn, Lewis, and Rowe?”

  I glared at her. “We do not bring up Bad Lark when we’re trying to get me to do the right thing here.”

  English snorted. “Fair point.”

  “I can put the past behind us. I’m a professional. I can deal with Sam being in the office for the next six months. It’ll be fine…right?”

  “Well, if it’s not, we can always drink,” English offered. She scribbled wasted into the Yes column. “I was thinking we could go out tomorrow night with Whitley before I leave for LA. You could even invite Katherine.”

  “Oh god, Katherine and Whitley in the same room. That sounds like a perfect way for me to forget that Sam is in town.”

  “Exactly. You game?”

  I nodded. Even though I knew that I’d pay for it the next day at work, I really needed a night out with my girls. Maybe I could get drunk enough to forget this disaster had even happened.

  3

  Lark

  I headed back to the office with more confidence than I’d left it. Thank god for Anna English. I didn’t know how I would have gotten through the rest of the afternoon without her. Just being able to talk to her had made it all seem better. Even if she didn’t actually use her fixer capabilities on me. Or maybe…she had.

  I knew that I’d have to face Sam later. But I was hoping to get through all of my work first before it came to that. I still needed to go through the field report from Robert on what the campaign was doing on the ground to reach voters before the primary. Plus, Aspen had told me this morning that new messaging was coming in from Matthew, head of the political department, and she’d scheduled a joint consult with him and Beth, who ran the technology department and disseminated policy information on the website and social media. I was already anticipating then having to take it to Christine in communications for the speech Mayor Kensington would give at the fundraising banquet next week.

  Just putting together the flow of the departments that I coordinated with helped to calm me down. But the look on Aspen’s face when I got back to my desk ruined it all.

  “What happened?”

  Aspen rolled her eyes. “Nothing. The mayor’s son is here.”

  I frowned. “I’m guessing it’s not Penn based on that face.”

  “Out of luck. Court’s here.”

  “And causing problems?”

  “Doesn’t he always?” she grumbled.

  I sighed, letting all the work I’d planned to do spiral out of my head. “I’ll deal with him.”

  “You’re a godsend.”

  “Could you just go through the field report from Robert and mark it up for me? I’ll look at it when I get back.”

  Aspen frowned. “Um, I haven’t gotten that yet.”

  “Jesus. Okay, email Robert and ask him to send over the field report ASAP. You know what? Email Matthew about the messaging, too. I want to go over it before it gets to Beth and Christine.”

  “On it,” she said with another salute.

  Then I turned and went in search of the number one problem on the mayor’s campaign—Court Kensington.

  I’d been friends with the Kensingtons my entire life. Penn Kensington was still one of the closest friends I had. The only other person in our five-member crew who had gotten out of the Upper East Side cycle. He was a philosophy professor at Columbia, bucking all tradition, and trying to live the good life with his girlfriend, Natalie.

  Court was another story. He was a straight trainwreck. As far as I could tell, he had a very loose, open relationship with his girlfriend, Jane. That led him down all the wrong rabbit holes. His mother had had to get him out of more than one scandalous situation. Plus, he ruined every campaign event at which he was in attendance. As if he had been prepped to self-destruct.

  I rounded the corner, ready to find out what mayhem Court Kensington was causing, and my stomach dropped. There he was. With the inimitable Gavin King…and Sam.

  Sam seemed animated, clearly in the middle of a story. He hadn’t seen me yet. And for a second, I just watched his expression. The easy grin that came to his face. The laugh that came from all three of them when he hit the end of the story. It was so effortless.

  He was handling Court and Gavin like a pro. They didn’t even seem to know they were being handled. Sam had that way with people.

  My heart thumped before I could remind it to stay professional. That I couldn’t deal with this right now. And it was going to be fine having Sam in the office for the next six months.

  “All right,” Sam said with another laugh, “I have a meeting with Gibbs soon. I have to get back into the office. Good to meet you both.”

  He shook hands with Court and Gavin. They all joked around for another minute, and then he disappeared into the legal department. I stepped out from where I’d surreptitiously been watching their interaction.

  “Ah, looks like we’ve been caught,” Court said as he turned to face me. “Larkin St. Vincent, always a pleasure.”

  “Hello, Court,” I said dryly. I nodded at his partner in crime. “Gavin.”

  “Lark, my love,” Gavin said with a wink.

  “I heard that you’re causing trouble again.”

  Court shrugged and leaned back against the wall. He was the classic too-hot-for-his-own-good type. Everything about him exuded confidence and charisma until it turned on a dime.

  “Does that sound like us?” Gavin asked. He was also devilishly handsome with dark hair shot through with red and keen, cunning eyes.

  “Yes,” I said automatically.

  Gavin came from old Texas oil money. He wasn’t Upper East Side rich, but considering his ancestors had found the oil in the Permian Basin, he had just as much power. He’d gone to Harvard with Court and his best friend, Camden Percy. I’d met him a few times since he’d taken over the New York branch of his family company, Dorset & King.

  “What exactly are you two doing here?”

  “We heard that you needed a new speaker for the banquet after Nina Warren had to drop out because of that Warren business scandal,” Court said easily.

  He looked to me for a reaction, but I refused to give him one. I could play Upper East Side politics as well as he could.

  “And?”

  “Well, Gavin’s family is longtime friends with Jay Neville.”

  “Oh, wow. You’re friends with Jay Neville?” I asked, momentarily lost in my political nerdom.

  Jay Neville was the former deputy chief of staff in the White House and now a successful political consultant. He was a legend.

  Gavin laughed. “Here I thought, I’d have to woo you with sweet platitudes. And it turns out, my connecti
ons win out. Yes, Jay lived next door to my cousin. I grew up with his daughters.”

  “That’s incredible,” I said honestly. “You think he’ll speak?”

  “Sure,” Gavin said with a wink. “Anything for you, love.”

  Court shook his head and pushed Gavin backward a step. “Sorry to disappoint. You might be my friend, but you have no chance with Larkin St. Vincent. The St. Vincents wouldn’t sully their good name for you.”

  My cheeks flushed as Court laid out my family as if it explained why someone like Gavin King had no chance with me. My family name ruining everything all over again.

  “Thanks, dick,” Gavin said, punching Court in the shoulder.

  I forced a laugh. I wasn’t actually interested in Gavin anyway. He might be good-looking and charming, but if Thomas was any indication, guys either wanted me for my money or thought they couldn’t get me because of my money. And the only guy who hadn’t known who I was had shattered my heart and was now working for me. Great.

  “Okay, back to the point,” I said.

  “We need to get in line?” Court guessed.

  “Yes, please.” I pointed between them. “I’m not sure who is keeping whom in line, but figure it out.”

  “That’d be me,” Gavin said with a grin.

  “We’re doomed,” I muttered.

  Both guys laughed, and as they headed toward the exit, I considered my job accomplished. I’d managed to get out of that situation with laughter instead of frayed nerves. It didn’t guarantee that either boy would actually behave, but it was looking up.

  My eyes strayed to the direction of the legal department. I wanted to go back there and confront Sam right now. Get everything out in the open. But I wouldn’t do it. For one, I had too much work to do. I’d already lost enough time today, and I couldn’t afford any more.

  So with a sigh, I backtracked to my office, thanked Aspen for getting me the documents I needed, and barricaded myself inside. The work was slow and tiresome even if I did enjoy it. While I was the deputy campaign manager, my direct boss was the actual campaign manager, Shawn. He was the big-picture guy who controlled access to the mayor and was the last say on basically everything. And we went back and forth all day about the new messaging research that had come in.