by Tessa Bailey
Sage angled her body so she could half face Belmont, her steady eyes following his movements. “Who are they?”
“The Pendleton campaign.” When Peggy clapped—perhaps for Aaron’s work securing the job with her father—Aaron only inclined his head toward Grace. “You’ve met Grace. Now meet Grace Pendleton.”
“Oh,” Sage and Peggy mouthed at the same time.
“Yes. Oh.” Aaron dug out his cell phone, the vibration indicating an incoming call. “Incidentally, her father is calling me now. Probably wondering where the hell I’ve taken his youngest daughter. He’s going to love my answer.”
Grace swallowed a grapefruit-sized lump in her throat. Since the beginning, she’d caused nothing but trouble for Aaron, and all he’d gotten in exchange was an assassination of his character. “Let me talk to him.”
“That’s not necessary.” Aaron started to turn away, but stopped, digging the red ribbons out of his pocket and holding them out to Peggy. “Could you…” He waved his hand in the space above his shoulder. “She wears them in her hair.”
As soon as his sister accepted the shredded offerings, Aaron strode off to answer the phone call, leaving Grace wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
* * *
Feeling himself sink deeper into the inescapable black hole of hurting Grace’s feelings, Aaron moved toward the giant mess hall. After leaving Grace sobbing in the cabin, torn between arousal and self-disgust, he’d been desperate for activity, so he’d found himself seeking out an ideal spot for mission control. In other words, a place to station himself with a laptop, a cell phone, and a week’s worth of PowerBars so he could pull off this project and move to the next level of his career.
Also known as the original, genius plan he’d made. Back when he didn’t have his head buried in his ass and a suspicion he was more capable of…feelings…than he’d originally thought.
Right. Back to business. Already he’d made contact with several media outlets, arranging phone interviews and national news radio call-ins, in addition to granting requests to speak with him directly. Capitalizing on the now-viral video of himself being interviewed looking like shit ran over twice, Aaron had specified any on-camera interviews with him would only be granted with YouthAspire as the backdrop, hoping to garner the most airtime possible. And the media were coming, thank God. When they did, he’d be ready.
This whole strategy was unorthodox, to say the least. Throwing every ounce of his weight and expertise behind it would backfire if he failed. In Aaron’s early position on the political spectrum, one rarely received a second chance at bat. Now he stood at the plate, armed with nothing but an inconvenient fascination with a girl, his whack-job family, and confidence that felt shaky for the first time.
When the cell phone shuddered in his hand again, Aaron jerked his attention back to the present. Fake it until you make it, Clarkson.
Christ, he’d been doing that for a while, hadn’t he?
“Senator, how can I help you?”
“We’re up another three points in the polls.” Pendleton was doing his best to sound even-keeled, but Aaron could hear the beginnings of excitement in the ex-military man’s voice. “We want an update.”
“We,” Aaron repeated, relief filling his lungs with air. More than one person giving their attention meant the campaign staff was finally giving him credit where credit was due. “Who am I addressing?”
“You’ve got Corbett, my campaign manager, and his staff.”
Not too shabby. Unfortunately, the conversation was about to take a fucking nosedive. “In the interest of moving quickly and the campaign appearing focused, I’ve gone with the best available option, which also happens to be the most convenient.” At the top of the mess hall steps, he turned and found Grace watching him, looking sad as Peggy threaded the red ribbons back into her hair. Before he could remember the sensation of smooth strands slipping through his fingers, Aaron continued, his tone deeper than before. “Ms. Pendleton has already made some headway restoring the YouthAspire camp, and with some muscle, it won’t be long before we make it viable. With enough resources and local volunteers, we can make it sustainable before the campaign gets back on the trail.”
Silence. “You are aware of the camp’s history.” Not a question. “You can’t honestly think it’s wise linking my name to the brainwashing and murdering of teenagers.”
The blunt description sent acid rising in Aaron’s throat, made him want to drop the phone and go shake Grace. Or hold her. Or demand she stop looking at him. Demand she never stop. He was losing his goddamn mind. “The American people aren’t cowed by misfortune. Hell, they’re fascinated by it. You’re not shying away from the past, you’re correcting it.” No, that was Grace’s mission, but he had no choice but to echo it now. Knew she wouldn’t fault him, so long as the goal was accomplished. “You’re building something strong on a broken foundation. Exactly what you’re planning to do as president. No matter what way we spin in, you’re doing something positive. Instead of attacking your opponent, you’re making him look like a selfish asshole.”
There was a round of laughter on the other end, but the acid only grew sharper in Aaron’s windpipe as he waited for Pendleton to respond. “Now, as far as Grace is concerned—”
“We’ll keep her name out of it,” Aaron assured him, tearing his gaze away from the girl in question. “I spent some time this morning running my own searches through various media outlets, and she’s not connected to the name YouthAspire. She’s so far removed from the public eye, I don’t even think her presence here would inspire curiosity. And that’s if someone recognizes her, which I won’t let happen.”
Another beat of quiet made Aaron anxious, but he didn’t know why. The answer became apparent a moment later, when the senator spoke again, sounding pensive, slightly hesitant. “And if we were to…allow the media to recognize her. Stop hiding what happened seven years ago and reveal her role in the hostage situation…would that help or hurt us? In your opinion.”
Rage blasted Aaron head to toe, so severe, he was forced to lower the phone, bracing both hands on his knees. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Focus. He could not allow that to happen, no matter what it took. He knew Grace wanted the truth of that day acknowledged, but she didn’t understand, had never experienced, a media frenzy. He’d narrowly escaped one himself back in California, or he would never have gotten this second chance. But watching them exploit Grace? Jesus, it would be hell. She was too good to be tainted by their questions, their merciless prying.
Aaron drew a calming dose of oxygen through his nose, lifting the phone back to his ear. And he circumvented the undesirable outcome the only way he could come up with on short notice. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Unless you think she can handle the pressure of sitting on a couch across from Diane Sawyer.” His laugh was forced, but convincing under the circumstances. “All due respect, I don’t know if she can retain the kind of coaching we’d need to put her through it.”
Bastard. You’re a bastard.
“You might be right.” Aaron could hear Pendleton shifting in his office chair. “I’ve tried creative ways of coaching her before and she’s been resistant.”
Aaron’s stomach went hollow. “What does that mean?”
“We had her in therapy after the camp fiasco and found it was only making her…well…more. Wild. Wanting to express herself. So we hired a more suitable one that understood how we needed to direct Grace. Needless to say, it backfired when my daughter found out.”
When the phone protested in Aaron’s hand, he realized how tight he was gripping it. Directed. Without her knowledge. Jesus. On top of the camp tragedy and Ray Solomon, no wonder Grace found him difficult to be around. Another mouthpiece for her dad. Another person skilled in subtle influence. Who could blame her for walking away in the woods last night?
The senator’s voice broke into his trance. “I hired you, Clarkson, because you don’t have the ability to get squeamish abo
ut things like this. I’ve even considered eventually moving you to Pendleton campaign headquarters in New York, where you could be more effective, going toe to toe with the big boys.” A tick of silence passed. “Did I misjudge you?”
“No,” he managed, surprise filtering in over the senator’s revelation. New York. “You didn’t. That’s my honest assessment.”
“You think I’m right to keep her out of the public’s consciousness.”
Dammit. The man was putting words in his mouth and he’d left himself no choice but to own them. Even if they were utter bullshit. He knew that now. Knew Grace’s unique personality didn’t make her a liability, it made her something to be celebrated. “That’s right,” Aaron intoned, regardless. “You’ve done the best thing for the campaign.” He would have said anything to keep her from being shoved beneath a microscope and dissected for everyone’s entertainment, but the words singed his throat on their way out, rubbing his vocal chords raw. “Put me in touch with your speech writers so we can prepare a site visit. Probably not for tomorrow, but the following day. We don’t want to put you on camera until there’s progress.”
“Done and done.”
When the line clicked over and another no-bullshit voice answered, Aaron lost himself in the planning, trying not to dwell on the overwhelming sense that he’d just sold his soul.
* * *
When Aaron jogged to a stop at the courtyard’s center, Grace dropped the ripped-up piece of floorboard she’d been carrying from one of the cabins, the rotted wood slipping through lifeless fingers. He was…covered in sweat. Dripping with the stuff, actually. As he bent forward and stopped his wristwatch, his sides heaving with exertion, moisture gathering in the center of his forehead and dripping to the ground. The gray, long-sleeved T-shirt he wore was so soaked, it clung to his skin in a way that would slap against his flesh if the material connected with muscle. And there was muscle. Ripped flanks and cut triceps. Things Grace had noticed before on other men, but never given a second glance. But on Aaron, who she’d never seen shirtless—which he might as well have been in the gray second skin—the muscles and masculine detail of his body wouldn’t release her from captivation.
I almost had sex with that man this morning. Him and his body.
Someone emerging from the cabin in her wake launched Grace out of her hormonal haze…and clued her into the fact that she’d been panting like a horn-dog.
Thankfully, Aaron hadn’t caught her staring, but then again, who cared if he did? Grace wanted him to know she found him attractive. That she liked talking to him, looking at him. In fact, she was already lonely for him. Was it silly? Yeah, maybe a little. They’d only known each other a few days. But Aaron the jerk was a million times better than Aaron the absent. She’d done that, but had no idea how to fix the wound she’d inflicted. A wound he would almost certainly deny existed if she brought it up. So that kept her at arm’s length, right where he obviously wanted her.
They’d been working all afternoon. As soon as the industrial-sized electrical generator had arrived and begun running, not to mention the ten steel Dumpsters that had been dropped off in the courtyard, Belmont had produced a crowbar and hammer from the Suburban and entered the first cabin, grimly relaying the news to Grace, Peggy, and Sage as to which items were salvageable and which ones needed to be trashed. Then he’d proceeded to dismantle…well, everything. Having brought a contractor to the site once before, Grace had been well aware of how little could be saved, thanks to the camp being without upkeep for so long, but watching Belmont swing his hammer, prying floorboards up with a crowbar, had proven difficult. Somewhere along the line, she’d taken ownership of this place and hated seeing parts of it demolished, necessary or not. Thankfully, the cabin frames didn’t need to be replaced, which would have demanded the bulk of time and manpower. And the plumber who’d turned the water on that afternoon only needed to replace a handful of pipes that had rusted in their disuse, but for now, they had running water, which was a blessing. Since Aaron would clearly require a shower...
Peggy passed Grace, giving her a subtle elbow nudge, and Grace stooped down to pick up the dropped wood, hurling it over the Dumpster’s steel wall. After Peggy followed suit with an armful of insulation, they both stopped, seeming to notice at the same time the sky grew dark.
“Manual labor,” Peggy shouted, shaking her fist at the heavens. “This is not what I had in mind when I offered to help my brother. What a total waste of my ample charms.”
Aaron reached them, tossing a smirk at Peggy. “Hey, today was supposed to be for planning. You chose destruction. It wasn’t assigned.”
“We were just sitting around, listening to you sound authoritative on the phone. And you were bow-guarding the laptop.” Peggy poked Aaron in the chest. “We couldn’t just beg off the first time you actually ask for help.”
Without a sound to signal her approach, Sage joined them at the Dumpster. “I think it’s been very therapeutic.”
“More therapeutic than slapping me?” Aaron asked with a cocked eyebrow, a slight smile easing up the corners of his mouth.
“Hmm.” Sage brushed some wood dust off her jeans before answering, “No.”
“Y-you slapped him?” Grace croaked, the question emerging before she could stop it. Fire raked through her chest, making it hard to inhale. Aaron’s haunted expression when he’d pulled away from her that morning came back, more vivid than it had been in the actual moment. That same man had been struck across the face? By someone else who was supposed to care about him? It was too much to take. She couldn’t digest it alongside her own guilt. Oh God, her eyelids were starting to burn again. “I, um…”
With a backward step, Grace tried to separate from the group, but Sage cupped Grace’s elbow, her expression apologetic. “I’ve apologized. It was…that was wrong of me.”
Peggy threw an arm around Grace’s shoulder. “You throw four people in a Suburban, then strand them in the wilderness, I’m thinking a few slaps are par for the course.” She gave Grace a squeeze. “Aaron can take it.”
“Can he?” Grace whispered. “Why should he have to?”
Aaron paused in the act of wiping his sweat-dotted forehead, a move that exposed his muscle-knitted abdomen. He dropped the garment to reveal a frown, but didn’t speak or remove his rapt attention from Grace. Not even when Peggy whistled under her breath, splitting a look between Grace and Aaron. “You know what we need?” She gave a single nod. “A girls’ night.”
Belmont chose that moment to emerge from the cabin. Without tearing her attention away from her own sweat-soaked man, Grace knew Belmont was in much the same condition. Caked in grime, wearing the day’s labor like a winter coat, while Aaron resembled more of a sleek, cagey animal. “Girls’ night,” Belmont grunted. “I don’t like it.”
“You don’t always have to like it,” Sage whispered, flushing to the roots of her hair. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
The mood shifted even more out of alignment. Even though Grace had spent only a limited time in their company, she sensed it was a rarity for anyone to disagree with Belmont. The large lumberjack of a man looked surprised himself, if an eye twitch counted as a reaction. “I’ll go with you. I can wait in the Suburban.”
Sage tucked a wisp of light brown hair behind her ear. “Can I talk to you somewhere private?”
Belmont stared at Sage in the epic silence, before grunting in response, turning and reentering the cabin. With a deep breath, Sage followed him inside, leaving Grace, Aaron, and Peggy alone once again. “Well.” Peggy clapped her hands. “I’m going to freshen up. Grace, do you want to come along?”
Grace grimaced at her dirt-covered clothes. In her haste to throw on clothes and run interference between Aaron and her father that morning, she hadn’t planned on physical labor. And especially not going out for an impromptu night out with two girls who looked put together and fresh even after a day of hard work. “Maybe we can put it off until tomorrow night?” She rubbed
the bottom of one boot against the toe of the other. “I don’t have a change of clothes. I didn’t plan on spending the night here, so I have nothing—”
“Spending the night here?” Aaron cut in. “Who said anything about that?”
“She did. Just now.” Grace swore Peggy’s blond curls tightened, alongside the clear surge of her irritation. “And why shouldn’t she? She worked as hard as the rest of us. This is her project and there are plenty of places to sleep now.” She squared her shoulders. “I have my entire wardrobe with me. There will be something for her to wear. Probably ten somethings.”
Warmth flooded Grace, along with a heaping helping of excitement and gratefulness. Maybe she was too old to place dress-up, but she’d never had the experience growing up. The idea of Peggy buttoning a row of buttons down her back or trying out shades of lipstick on her mouth? It wasn’t an experience she could pass up. “Thank you.” Sensing Aaron’s scowl, Grace ignored him. “I’ll make sure I pick up a few things from home tomorrow.”
“Sure, sure.” Peggy hooked an arm through Grace’s, hip bumping Aaron as they passed on the way to the female locker room. “Tomorrow will be soon enough to deal with everything. Girls’ night trumps all else.”
Chapter Fifteen
Grace took a deep inhale of the mingling perfumes sailing on the night air. They were light and fun, not cloying or obvious. Two hours. It had taken two hours for three girls to prepare themselves for a night out, but for Grace it might as well have passed in a single eye blink. She couldn’t stop running her hands down the black suede skirt she’d borrowed from Peggy, complete with fringe on the sides. Thick, thigh-high tights and a cashmere sweater made the outfit winter in Iowa appropriate, but she could imagine herself wearing it just about anywhere. One of the hipster bars in Austin where she’d always sat in the corner alone, watching everyone else interact. Or maybe at a casual political event, with Aaron’s hand on the small of her back.