by Amy Vastine
Every time they were together seemed better than the last, and all week he’d waited for her to cave and kiss him again. It had been a blast spending time with her and letting the attraction simmer right along with their friendship.
But last night, the idea of going away for the weekend without kissing her had been out of the question. And even though he’d prepared, braced himself for it, as soon as his lips touched hers that fire had ignited in him all over again, even stronger, fueled now by an almost overwhelming affection that seemed to grow bigger with every second they spent together.
Checking the time, he decided to get ready so he could head down to the dock and fetch his phone from the plane where he must have left it. After a quick shower, he brushed his teeth and donned his tux. He knocked on Bering’s door and told him he’d meet him downstairs.
Once at the plane, he executed a thorough search but didn’t find his phone. Nor did he see it on the dock or along the path as he made his way back to the house, where he found Bering visiting with Gwen and Jack and a few other men who’d come to discuss the campaign. He officially reported that he’d lost his phone.
“I’ll text Milt at your office,” Bering said. “Then I’ll call Shay and have her let your mom know if there’s an emergency they can call me.”
“That would be great, Bering. Thanks.” He wanted to add Ally to the list but felt awkward saying so in front of the crowd. He’d borrow his cousin’s phone later and contact her himself.
They discussed Tag’s campaign staffing needs and political strategies until it was time to depart. It was a short ride to the venue and Tag decided that at least half the population of Juneau must be in attendance. He met one person after another, members of Congress, judges, business people, professionals of all sorts.
Things went smoothly for the first hour, right up until he saw Senator Marsh approaching with a curvy blonde by his side. They first appeared in his peripheral vision, and his initial thought was that a woman was in attendance who was only a few inches shorter than he was when she was wearing heels, a trait he would have found attractive a couple of weeks ago. Everything, it seemed, no matter how circuitous, came back to Ally. But when the senator and the blonde stepped into full view, it took every bit of his self-control to keep up his smile as he focused on the face of his ex, Kendall Meade.
“Hello, Tag,” Kendall said.
Beside her, Jack said, “Kendall was telling me you two are friends. I didn’t realize.”
“We are. Hello, Kendall. How are you?”
“And you have mutual acquaintances in Rankins?”
Before Tag could answer, Kendall said, “We do, sir. I know Tag’s brother-in-law, Jonah Cedar. We serve on the Coalition of Alaska Attorneys together. We’re going to join forces and work on securing some endorsements and contributions for Tag.”
Tag groaned inwardly. He was not aware of this connection. Jonah had mentioned that he planned to approach the powerful legal lobby, but he’d skipped over Kendall’s involvement.
A photographer had been wandering around snapping photos, and now he appeared before them. “May I?” he asked, gesturing in their direction.
“Of course,” Kendall said. She took a step closer to Tag and curled her arm through his, pressing her soft curves familiarly against his side and twisting so she was standing way too close. It caught Tag off guard, and he looked at her only to find her face mere inches from his. One of those slow-motion moments unfolded, the kind where the edges of reality blur and time stretches out uncomfortably. Kendall’s blue eyes were wide and earnest, her lips curved up like they used to back when she’d always seemed pleased with him. Before she’d cheated and their already fractured relationship had collapsed.
Tag turned toward the photographer and smiled as prompted even as a sinking feeling spread through him, much the way a burn did after you’d already scorched your skin. The damage done, all you could do was wait for the pain that you knew would soon follow.
Jack waved to someone and excused himself. “I’m going to let you two catch up.” Tag took a step backward.
Kendall asked, “How’ve you been, Tag?”
“Fine. Good. How’s, uh…Pete?”
“Pete and I broke up.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Kendall.” And he was. He wanted Kendall to be happy.
“I’m not.” Clutching his elbow with an urgency that felt off, she said, “Tag, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been thinking about you, wanting to call. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve picked up the phone. But this feels like, I don’t know, fate?”
“Fate?”
“Yes. When Jack contacted me about consulting for your campaign, I knew it was meant to be for our paths to cross again.”
* * *
MADDENING WAS THE word that came to mind for this tight schedule. Tag was no stranger to working hard, but it felt completely different when his time was his own. They hadn’t gotten back to Senator Marsh’s house until after midnight Friday night. Too late to borrow a phone to call Ally, Tag had decided, but now that he was up and around he’d find a way. They were going on a fishing trip with a small group of potential campaign donors, and Tag knew they’d likely be out of cell phone range most of the day.
According to the schedule, they’d have just enough time to return to the house to shower and change before another dinner party tonight. He hoped Kendall wasn’t invited. He needed to figure out exactly how he was going to handle her zealous greeting and confession. He’d tried to put her off gently, explained that he was seeing someone, but the news hadn’t seemed to faze her.
Especially when she’d asked if it was serious and he’d had to say, “No.”
She frowned as if she was puzzling over a difficult concept. “So, you can’t have been seeing her for long, right?”
“No, not long,” he’d answered simply, evasively, because how could he tell the woman he’d dated for a year that the feelings he had for Ally surpassed those he’d ever had for Kendall, and in a fraction of the time, and yet they weren’t serious?
“Good, then we don’t have to worry.”
“About what?”
“About me working with your campaign and…stuff.” She’d added a wink and a meaningful look.
Before he could ask for clarification of “stuff” they’d been swept up by the crowd.
Kendall working on his campaign? He didn’t know what to think about that. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about any of it. He just wanted to call Ally.
Dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans and two layers of shirts, he grabbed his boots and pack, and headed to Bering’s room. He would borrow his phone and call Ally when Bering headed down for breakfast.
Bering opened the door and waved Tag inside. “I’m almost ready. It’s going to be weird going on a fishing trip and not being the guide. Don’t let me try to take over,” he joked.
“I’ll make sure you don’t.” Tag took a seat in one of two oddly shaped, spindly legged chairs situated in the corner near the window while Bering rummaged through his bag.
After pulling out a pair of thick socks, he picked up his boots, crossed the room and lowered his muscled frame into the chair across from Tag. The chair protested with an ominous creak. Bering froze, socks and boots still in hand.
“Why would anyone even make a chair this small and stupid?” he whispered.
Tag laughed. “Don’t break it. It probably costs as much as your new jet boat.”
“No kidding.” Gingerly Bering rose and settled on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad you stopped by here because there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Ready,” Tag said with feigned enthusiasm, expecting more campaign talk.
“I called Shay last night about your phone, like I told you I would.”
“Yeah?”
&
nbsp; “I hate saying this to you, especially after I encouraged you.” Bering heaved out a sigh that sounded as painful as his expression appeared. “But she expressed some concerns.”
Tag shook his head, a mix of irritation and anger at his sister coursing through him. “This is about Ally?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. According to Shay, people are talking…” he paused to add an eye roll and air quotes “…and she’s worried about how it will look for you ‘being associated’ with her. Younger woman, possible midlife crisis, her medical…opinions. Shay is afraid people in town—voters—will turn on you.”
“Are you worried?”
“No, I’m not. I trust you, buddy. I know protecting Rankins is as important to you as it is to the rest of us and that you’d never do anything to jeopardize this campaign.”
He tilted his head back as if to study the ceiling and muttered some unintelligible words before fixing his gaze back on Tag. “I can’t believe I just said that. It sounds like I’m trying to use some sort of reverse psychology on you. And you know how I hate that kind of stuff. I wish I hadn’t even brought it up now, but she made me promise and you know Shay.”
Tag wanted to believe him, but he knew his cousin almost as well as he knew himself. Better in some ways. Next to his family, his town was his life. Tag knew the sacrifices and the efforts Bering had once made for Rankins. Winning this election was beyond important to him. It was Tag’s turn to step up to the plate. They’d already agreed on that, and the last thing Tag would ever do was let Bering, the rest of their family or his community down.
“But you told me it’s not serious, right?”
Tag nodded. “That’s right,” he said, irritation and disappointment curdling his gut. No way would he ask to borrow Bering’s phone now.
* * *
SUNDAY MORNING, ALLY stared at her phone and told herself everything was fine. It was good. It had been only two days. No calls. No texts. Completely and totally incommunicado. But it wasn’t like he’d told her he’d text or that he’d call. They were keeping it casual.
Stupidly, she realized now, she’d told him she wasn’t looking for a relationship. That had seemed like a selling point at the time to get him over the age-difference hurdle. Now it felt like its own hurdle. An invisible one that she was afraid to talk about for fear it would put them back at the start line.
And that kiss the night before he’d left had been anything but casual. It had felt… What was the opposite of casual? Serious? Real? Intense? All of the above. Had it all been one-sided?
Only one more day to go before he got back. All would be well when she saw him again. Her insecurities slipped away when they were together. In the meantime, he was probably super busy doing important political things. Surely she’d hear from him that evening when he returned. Of course she would. Unless…? Unless he was so busy he hadn’t had time to think about her? Ouch. She didn’t want to go there.
She tried to remember the last thing he’d said before leaving her on Thursday night: “I’ll see you next week.”
Hmm. Apparently, he’d meant that in a very literal way.
Her phone chimed, making her jump. Her heart answered with a thump so hard it seemed to echo inside her head. Hands shaking, she swiped at the screen; it was a text from Flynn. He was coming over later after an unexpected shift at the hospital, so without reading it she set her phone down, disappointed.
“What am I, in middle school now?” she asked her empty living room.
At least she assumed this was how an infatuated middle-school girl might act about a boy she liked.
“I wish I’d gone to middle school. Ha.” She barked out a bitter laugh. “I bet no one who went to middle school ever says that.” There’d only been a handful of guys around her age in Saltdove, and they’d felt more like family.
She’d only ever dated in the Army. And not much, and never one guy long enough to consider him a boyfriend. Admittedly, she hadn’t tried very hard. She’d been busy, focused on her goals. At paramedic school in Michigan she’d been so intent on her studies and nervous about her grades that she’d turned down any requests beyond friendly group gatherings or study sessions.
Not that Tag was her boyfriend. Was he?
“Either way, I’m being ridiculous.” Standing up, she grabbed her jacket and headed out the door. She was just hungry. A donut would help, or two. She’d walk to the Donut Den because that way she could do the preemptive calorie burn. Or at least wear off the frosting. Okay, fine, some of the frosting.
Mr. Most Eligible Bachelor obviously had plenty of experience. She needed advice. Once again, she found herself wishing for a girlfriend to talk to. Not that Flynn wasn’t great. He was, but from the way he’d acted when she’d told him about Tag, she didn’t think she was going to get a lot of help from that quarter.
Ally pushed through the door of the bakery and instantly began to relax. The smell alone could count as aromatherapy. The soothing combination of yeast and maple and vanilla stirred into her, and just the promise of sugar was added comfort.
A teenaged girl with deep dimples and a long French braid smiled at her from behind the counter. The name embroidered across the top of her bubblegum-pink apron was Molly.
“Good morning,” she said. “What can I get for you today?”
“Hey, Molly. I’ll take one maple bar, one of the half-chocolate, half-maple bars, two cinnamon twisties, two apple fritters and one of those cream-filled things. Oh, and, mmm…two…Emilys? How many is that, nine?”
“Yep, nine.”
“Might as well make it a dozen, then, huh? That’s probably cheaper at this point, right?” Ally stared up at the board and tried to calculate the cost per donut versus a dozen.
Molly grinned. Ally figured she probably got this a lot, people losing their ability to count and do math in the presence of fresh-baked pastries.
“It is cheaper. What would you like for your last four?”
“Four? I thought you said I had nine in the box.”
“Yep, you do. But our dozen is a baker’s dozen. If you buy twelve, you get one free.”
“Wow. Does anyone ever get this close and not buy twelve or thirteen or whatever?”
Molly giggled. “Not really.”
“Brilliant. Just surprise me. Anything will do.” It was too many donuts. She’d give some to Flynn tonight, stash the rest in the fridge and take them into the hospital tomorrow morning. That would help her popularity. She’d eat all the chocolate-covered ones to stave off any mud jokes still floating around.
“I’ll have a cup of coffee, too, please. The big one, and I don’t need room for cream.”
“You got it.”
Ally settled in at a table in the corner facing the door. Three donuts and half a cup of coffee later she was already feeling better. She’d just pulled up Flynn’s message when a voice floated over to her.
“Look at our Tag. He’s always been such a good-looking boy, but I swear, he just gets more handsome as time goes by, doesn’t he? Made to be photographed. Like one of those underwear models, but with clothes. Which is too bad, now that I think about it.”
“Bernice! He could be your grandson.”
“But he’s not, Erma, is he? I’m not dead yet.”
Ally homed in on the two older women standing next to a nearby table where a newspaper lay open. “I suppose you’re right. He’s going to be a wonderful senator. They sure make a striking couple. Who is that woman, though? She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she? And so tall…”
“Call who?” Bernice asked.
“Not call, Bernice, tall,” her companion shouted. “I said the woman is tall.”
“Oh…she sure is. It’s partly because of those shoes. Those are real beauts, Jimmy Chows, probably. Do you think I could pull off a pair of shoes like that?”
“Not without aggravating your
gout.”
Behind the counter, Molly giggled, and said, “I think it’s Choo, Jimmy Choos.”
“I know they’re shoes, sweetie, that’s what we’re talking about.”
They continued discussing the topic of Tag and his beautiful companion and her shoes while one of them paid and the other took the box of donuts. Finally they left the bakery, bickering all the way. It would have been cute if Ally hadn’t felt compelled to see that paper. Standing, she walked over to the table and then stared down at the nightmare plastered across the page.
The photo was big and bright and clear and featured a truly stunning shot of Tag looking elegant and perfect in a tux and so out of Ally’s league it made her heart ache with equal parts pride and anguish.
He was looking at a gorgeous blonde, right into her eyes, their faces only inches apart. A mile of leg stretched from beneath her tight dress, ending at feet encased in a pair of tall, sexy heels. Ally had never worn heels in her life.
“She probably has bunions the size of Denali,” she muttered. But the thought didn’t give her much satisfaction because it was the way they were standing that had her regretting that third donut. Hot frosting burned like acid in her stomach as she stared at the image. One of the woman’s arms was twisted tightly through Tag’s, the other stretched across his chest to playfully tug on his lapel. Snuggling was the word that came to mind, and only in a way that someone who knew him very, very well would do.
The first few lines of the article jumped out at her:
Alaska’s newest political power couple? Local businessman Tag James, of Copper Crossing Air Transport, with companion, attorney Kendall Meade, at the Wayfarer Political Fundraising dinner in Juneau. Sources say this hot couple used to be a regular sight around Juneau as recently as a year ago. With rumors flying about the handsome pilot’s entrance into the upcoming Alaska state senate race, and Ms. Meade’s connections, one can’t help but wonder if we’re seeing the beginning (continuation?) of a beautiful friendship?