“Us too,” Alexis says quickly and pulls Reagan in the opposite direction.
She gives me a quick wave. “See you out there.” Reagan’s cheeks turn the brightest shade of pink when I give her a quick wink.
“What the fuck was that?”
I glance toward Carl and shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The flirting,” he replies and shakes his head before turning around. “I’ve taught you nothing.”
Following him, I rub my hands together as we head to the staging area. “You may know politics, but I know women.”
When he stops, I almost bump into his back because I’m taking in the frantic backstage scene the public never gets to see. “They’re two different beasts, Jude. You need to think with the right head.”
“I am,” I say just as my eyes land on her. “I promise.” In that moment, I don’t feel the conviction of my words. Reagan Preston isn’t what I had been expecting. She always appeared cute on TV, though lacking something, but in person…she is stunning. The tiny details the camera doesn’t pick up set her apart from every other female on the planet.
Carl punches my arm, drawing my eyes away from Reagan. “You’re staring at her.”
“Fuck,” I mutter and clear my throat. “Did anyone notice?”
He clenches his jaw and speaks without moving his teeth or lips, and it’s unnerving. “They’re going to if you don’t stop acting like a pubescent teenager who just saw his first pair of tits.”
Carl, for all his proper etiquette, can turn on a dime. He’s been in politics for over fifteen years, but before that, he spent time in the Marines just like me. That’s why I chose him as my campaign manager. No one else could understand me unless they’d lived the life I had. When necessary, Carl knows just what to say to make me understand, but it typically makes me laugh.
“Let’s talk about the Q&A,” I say to change the subject. It’s more for me than him. I need to get Reagan out of my head, and now that he mentioned tits, those need to be wiped from my mind also. “What can I expect?”
Carl’s eyes light up as he begins to explain everything that’s about to happen. He goes over my key talking points, reminding me to mention that I’m not a politician and I served in the military.
“I got it,” I tell him before rolling my head around my shoulders to release the tension his words have put there.
Reagan grew up in the spotlight because of her father. TV cameras and interviews are nothing new to her, and this puts me at a slight disadvantage. The public will hopefully forgive me for a short time for being a newbie, before the Preston camp can use my inexperience to their advantage.
“Why don’t you roll down your sleeves? Tattoos turn off some voters.” His nose wrinkles as his eyes wander down to my forearms.
“They’re part of me, Carl. I’m a soldier, and most of us have some type of ink. I can’t hide who I am. If the voters like me, they will because they know exactly what type of man I am. The sleeves are staying up.”
“Fine,” he says through a tightly clenched jaw.
“It’s time,” a woman yells from the news set and doesn’t give Carl more time to complain. “Places, everyone.” She claps wildly and beckons us to move.
“Go get ’em, tiger,” he says with a curt nod, and I roll my eyes at the little nickname.
“Piece of cake,” I say and head toward the set. I swallow down the lump that starts to form before the fear can get to me. I’ve got this. I’ve been through far scarier situations. Having the enemy hiding with their gunsight trained at your head is more frightening than staring into the eyes of Reagan Preston.
For a moment, my mind wanders and I brush shoulders with someone. “Sorry,” I mumble and glance down at Reagan.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, looking up at me with soft blue eyes. She’s ridiculously calm and doesn’t even have a hair out of place. Her stare dips to my exposed arms. “Nice ink, by the way.”
My hand unconsciously touches the ink on my left arm. “Thanks. Are you ready for this?” I ask for some reason. I don’t care if she’s ready. I need to remind myself that we’re not friends.
We’ll never be friends.
She’s the enemy.
She may not have a rifle pointed at my head, but her beautiful, angelic face is gunning for me in another way. There’s nothing she’d like more than to see me fail. My failure is her victory.
“I’m always ready, Jude.” She smirks and walks toward her seat, leaving me in her wake. My stomach flops like a lovesick puppy, and I know one thing——I’m completely fucked.
I give myself a silent pep talk, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Not only am I trying to tell myself that I will kill this Q&A, but I’m praying I don’t have a hard-on from Reagan. This could be bad, very bad. I open my eyes, glance down and exhale when I realize that my blessed cock hasn’t chosen the most inopportune time to rise to the occasion.
