Callum Whitmore stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, smiling casually, as if seeing each other here, over 1600 miles from where he lived, wasn’t weird. He wore a white linen shirt, open at the collar, and tan slacks rolled at the ankles toshow off the designer loafers that absolutely no one wore on the sand unless they were a complete douchebag.
“Yeah, that’s a wild coincidence,” I kept my tone light.
His smile widened. “Well, it’s definitely the best part of my trip so far. I didn’t see you at this year’s White House holiday cocktail party.”
Because I was avoiding your creepy ass, I almost blurted out. I’d seen him across the room and changed direction so fast that my security detail had glanced around for a threat. Because his father was a senator, Callum often attended the same events as I did. There were plenty of people I saw regularly, but Callum always managed to get a little too close, as if he’d decided we were some sort of inevitable pair, just waiting for our moment.
“I was busy that night,” I explained. “Guests. Press. You know how it is.”
“Oh, I know how it is.” His gaze flicked over my shoulder, taking in Jase and Dylan, who had subtly stepped closer but not so close as to be obvious. “Are you here with someone?”
My stomach clenched.
Yes. My two boyfriends.
Those words obviously couldn’t leave my mouth. For one, I knew he wouldn’t keep our secret. More importantly, I wasn’t sure I could call Dylan and Jase my boyfriends yet.
“I’m here with some friends. Fallon and Rhett are flying down in a couple of days.” The lie slid off my tongue smoothly.
Callum’s eyes lingered on the guys as though he were sizing them up, but whatever conclusion he reached, he kept it hidden behind his practiced smile.
“They play baseball, right?” he asked.
How the hell did he know that?
“Yeah.” I nodded. “They do.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “So, are you going to D.C. or staying here for New Year’s?”
“Not sure yet. Just going with the flow.” Like I was going to tell him my plans.
“Well, I’ll be hitting up a party at the Four Seasons,” he stated. “If you’re in town, you should join me. Imagine the articles with pictures of us together.”
There it was. The thing he always came back to. How the public would see us together, not who we were.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dylan’s jaw twitch. Jase’s shoulders had tensed just a little, as if he were waiting for me to give him a reason to intervene.
I didn’t, and I gave them both credit for holding back.
“Not really looking for more photo ops, Callum.” I put a hint of irritation in my voice that I hoped he noticed.
His smile thinned, and for a fraction of a second, something dark flickered in his eyes, but it vanished almost immediately.
“Of course,” he agreed, but I knew he was full of shit. “I’ll let you get back to whatever you’re doing, but I’ll be here with my friends for a couple more days.” He gestured vaguely toward the bar, where three guys in similar linen shirts were nursing drinks and scanning the crowd. “If you decide you’d like more … elevated company, you know where to find me.”
Elevated company. What the actual fuck?
I managed not to visibly cringe. “Have a good night, Callum.”
After a pause, he inclined his head. “Until next time.”
He moved away, but not far. He joined his friends at the bar, and their group settled at a high-top a short distance away. At the table next to them sat a guy alone who must have noticed the tension between my group and theirs because his attention kept shifting between us.
I suddenly missed Agent Pederson and his perpetually stoic expression. The presence of Secret Service agents often felt suffocating, like a wall between me and normalcy. This was one of the times when they would have been a welcome buffer.
“Okay,” Dylan grumbled under his breath once Callum was out of earshot. “Who the hell was that?”
“Yeah,” Jase added. “It took everything in my power not to punch the asshole in the face. The only thing keeping me from doing it was not wanting to draw attention to you.”
