Something Reckless

by Lexi Ryan

  Hanna meets my eyes and grimaces. “According to the New Hope Tattler, Connor’s wife gave birth to their daughter last night.”

  “The birth of a child would definitely keep him from meeting with his online mistress,” Nix says.

  “No,” I whisper. It makes sense. Too much sense. But I’m more miserable than ever.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sam

  So completely fuckable. And she needs to be mine.

  Since Liz started working here, I’ve been to campaign headquarters more than ever before. I used to hate this place, but now when I walk in the door, I actually smile. Because it means I’m going to see Liz.

  Liz is standing on the sidewalk in front of campaign headquarters, staring at the door as if she’s trying to work up the courage to walk through it. Her hair’s pinned into a knot at the top of her head, and she’s wearing black tights, boots that come up to her knees, and a pink polka-dot coat that ties at her waist and makes her look like one of those glamorous women with pinup curves from the forties.

  I’m suddenly struck with the image of her coming to my house in nothing but that coat and a pair of matching heels. I’d lift her onto the kitchen counter and untie the belt while—

  “Sam?” Connor says behind me. “Did you hear what I said?”

  Not a word.

  “I’m wondering if you’re bringing a date to the gala on Saturday? Operation Make the Player Look Like a Good Guy?”

  “Yeah,” I grunt without taking my eyes off Liz. “I’ll have a date.”

  “Who?” Connor follows my gaze out to the street, then clears his throat. “Maybe run that by your dad?”

  Reluctantly, I give Connor my attention. “Why’s that?”

  “This is his political career you’re affecting. I’m just thinking that someone else—”

  “Liz is going to be my date,” I say, though in truth, I still have to ask her. The more Connor attempts to push me away from her, the more determined I am to keep her close. I like her, but I don’t know if I trust her. I know better than anyone that those two emotions don’t go well together—not if you’re looking for a happy ending. But I’ll keep her away from Connor and close to me because I’ve never expected a happy ending anyway.

  “We shouldn’t have hired her,” he mutters.

  I turn to him and narrow my eyes. “Excuse me?”

  He sighs then shakes his head. “You don’t think with your brain where Liz is involved.”

  “Guess that makes two of us.”

  * * *

  Liz

  I have to quit my job. I barely slept last night trying to think of a way around it, but I can’t keep working alongside Connor. It’s bad enough that I had an online relationship with a married man, bad enough that we had very dirty conversations through the course of that relationship, bad enough that we almost met in person, but add to all that my history with Connor and the fact that I was the key player in what his wife sees as his biggest betrayal, and if this relationship gets out, we’re screwed. Della would hate me more than she does now. She’d divorce Connor. And Sam . . .

  In some weird way, I feel like I just got Sam back. I’m not foolish enough to think Saturday night was the start of some new romance between us, but it was something. I thought maybe we could be friends again at the very least. But if he knew, he would go back to hating me.

  Taking a deep breath, I push through the doors and into headquarters. As luck would have it, Connor’s the first person I see. “How’s the baby?” I can only pray he can’t tell how forced my smile is.

  Connor beams. “She’s beautiful. Not letting her mom and dad get much sleep, but worth every second of torture.”

  “I’m sure,” I whisper. “And Della?”

  He shakes his head in wonder. “She’s so amazing. She was meant to be a mom. She’s a natural.”

  He looks so happy. Is that the face of a man who would cheat on his wife? I won’t be the reason Connor and Della’s marriage falls apart. Last night the girls did their best to convince me that I’m not the one responsible here. There was no way I could have known that River is a married man, and his decision to engage in an inappropriate online relationship is his betrayal alone. So, yeah, maybe he’ll find someone else when I stop replying on Something Real, but at least if he crosses that line and cheats, I won’t be the one responsible.

  “Hey, Liz.”

  I gasp at the sound of Sam’s voice, as if he could hear my thoughts. I shake away the silly worry. “Hi.” He’s handsome today in his banker’s clothes. Some men look uncomfortable in a suit and tie, but Sam owns it and it looks as natural on him as jeans and a T-shirt look on other guys. “How are you?”

  “Good.” He slides his eyes down my body and back up, and I have to reprimand my girly parts when they start in with a celebratory cha-cha.

  “I need to talk to your father,” I blurt.

  “Sure.” He takes my arm and leads me back to his father’s office, but when we’re in the middle of the hallway he stops and pins me against the wall with a hand on either side of my head. “How are things with Connor?”

  “Wha . . . what?” He found out. He found out about River.

  “Is it weird?” he asks, his eyes dipping to my mouth. “After what happened between you?”

  “Oh. No. Not weird,” I stammer. He’s looking at my mouth still, and instead of thinking of a good way to answer this question, I’m thinking about how much I want him to kiss me. Why does my brain take to the hills every time Sam’s around? “I . . . think I need to quit anyway, so it won’t be a problem.”

  He frowns. “Quit? Why?”

  Why, indeed. I was so busy figuring out what I needed to do, I never bothered to come up with what I would say when I did it. What am I going to tell Mr. Bradshaw when I resign? Hey, I’ve been having an inappropriate online relationship with a man who is probably your son-in-law, so I’m guessing I shouldn’t be working here.

  “It’s because of what happened between you two last summer, isn’t it?” Sam asks. “Did Della get to you?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “This isn’t because of Della. I’ve just had second thoughts . . .” Well, hell, the history is already there. I might as well run with it. It’s not like I’m admitting to anything new. “I’ve had second thoughts about working so closely with Connor.”

  “Don’t worry about him.”

  “So, you’re okay with me working here?”

  He smiles and steps back. “Why wouldn’t I be? Tell me you aren’t going to quit.”

  There’s a click, and Mr. Bradshaw’s door opens and he steps into the hallway.

  “Mr. Bradshaw,” I say. I straighten and try my best not to look like I was wishing his son would kiss me against this wall. “Good morning.”

  “Call me Travis,” he says. He knows I won’t. He’s been telling me to call him Travis since I was fifteen years old and having sleepovers at his house. He grins, little wrinkles appearing around his eyes. Sam’s father is one of those men who aged so well every woman in town swoons over him—from my mom to my little sister, Abby. The whole George Clooney thing he’s got going on really serves him well as a politician.

  A woman follows him out of the office—tall and slim, with long red hair. “Governor Guy,” I squeak.

  The governor smiles at me, then nods to Sam. “Good morning. It’s a beautiful day in New Hope, isn’t it?”

  “Christine,” Sam says, surprising me by using her first name. I guess their families have known each other for a long time, but I’d still expect him to use her title. “I’d like you to meet my father’s newest campaign worker, Elizabeth Thompson.”

  I offer her my hand, more pleased than I want to admit that Sam introduced me as Elizabeth and not Lizzy. “It’s a pleasure, Governor. It’s an honor to tell you in person how much I appreciate the work you’ve done during your two terms. When I was in high school and you were running for your first term, you were my idol. I wanted to be Christine Guy when I gr
ew up.”

  The governor turns to Mr. Bradshaw and arches a brow. “I like her, Travis.” When she turns back to me, she’s smiling. “Does this mean you have plans to be Indiana’s second female governor?”

  I duck my head. Politicians have things like their SAT scores go public, and how they were caught cheating on the ISTEP in grade school. Politicians who smoked pot when they were young claim they didn’t inhale, but I don’t think there’s a fix that easy for proof of stupid. “I’ve wised up since then, I guess. No one wants to put a perky blonde in a powerful political office.”

  She frowns. “And what asshole put that idea in your head?”

  The idea came from my political science professor during my first year at Sinclair, but I wave away her question.

  “You know, they told me no one wanted to put a widowed ex-beauty queen in office, but here I am, finishing up my second term and making a bid for president of the United States.”

  “You’re an inspiration,” I say softly, but I know the words do little to communicate how very much I mean them. “As for me, I’ve learned I’m happier behind the scenes. I don’t think I’d like living in the spotlight every day, but I do love helping someone as worthy as Candidate Bradshaw get there.”

  “She’s quickly becoming an asset around here,” Mr. Bradshaw says. “She’s got a way with rhetoric, this one.”

  Governor Guy nods. “Maybe I’ll let Travis here teach you the ropes, and then steal you away for my own campaign after the primaries.”

  My breath leaves me, and I can’t find it in time to respond. Mr. Bradshaw and the governor start discussing the gala, and Sam winks at me. Mr. Bradshaw walks the governor to the door and leaves Sam and me alone in the hallway again.

  “Well done,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Governor Guy doesn’t impress easily, but she liked you.”

  “Do you think she was serious about joining her campaign? I could actually do that?”

  “If you don’t mind working for shit pay,” Sam says.

  “I don’t mind. I mean, it would be worth it. Don’t you think?”

  His face goes serious. “I think it’s amazing that I’ve known you all this time and I never knew you liked politics so much.”

  “When I started at Sinclair, my first major was political science. I was encouraged to . . . rethink my decision.”

  He studies me for a minute, something changing in his expression. “Prove them wrong, Liz. If this is what you want, I think you should go after it. You have an in with Christine. Most people who want a future in politics could only dream of having a connection like that. Do it.”

  “Help the first female governor of Indiana become the first female president of the United States?”

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  Because I need to quit. Because I screwed up again, and this time it could ruin a marriage.

  “Don’t quit,” Sam says. “Stay on and work for my dad, and if a few months of being overworked, underpaid, and barely appreciated doesn’t scare you away from the grunt work of politics, join Christine.”

  “I should quit,” I say quietly. I can hear Connor’s deep voice up front as he laughs and talks with Mr. Bradshaw. “I was an idiot to take the job and think last summer wouldn’t matter.”

  “You weren’t an idiot. You were after something you wanted. Don’t give it up because of him.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sam

  “Do you understand what this could do to your life?” I ask, jabbing my finger at the computer screen. “Do you get it?”

  Ryann lifts her chin and her eyes go a little harder. She’s a stubborn little shit, kind of like me. And kind of like me, she’s not really good at admitting when she’s wrong. “You’re overreacting,” she says, tossing her pretty blond hair.

  “What if they’d gotten pictures, Ryann? What if there were pictures proving that you were having an affair with a man more than twice your age?”

  “Calm down, Sam. There aren’t pictures, okay? I’m not an idiot.”

  I rub the back of my neck, where my tension has been gathering since Hanna sent me the link this morning. Hanna’s used to keeping her eye on the New Hope Tattler, since her rocker fiancé is one of the pseudo-tabloid’s favorite topics. But this morning, the website wasn’t reporting on Nate Crane for once. Instead, it was dragging my sister’s name through the dirt, implying that she’s sleeping with some old art professor at Sinclair University.

  The second she arrived at the bank for her teller shift this afternoon, I called her into my office.

  “What are you going to do if Mom and Dad see this?”

  “Deny, deny, deny. I come from the same family you do. I know how to play the game.” When I glare at her, she shrugs as if she doesn’t care, but her eyes change and I know the truth. She’s terrified of our parents finding out. “It’s not like you didn’t do it at my age.”

  I freeze for a minute. “What do you know about what I did at your age?”

  “Enough. Trust me. More than enough. Yuck.”

  I didn’t think anyone knew about that, but that’s a conversation for another day. “This is different.”

  “Yeah, because I’m a girl. Why is that fair?”

  I sigh and sag into my chair. I’m not sure it is fair, but the idea of that skeezy old man touching my little sister still makes my stomach churn. Mom and Dad are all about keeping up appearances. Can’t be the most influential New Hope family if people don’t respect you.

  “Our lives aren’t our own anymore, are they?” she asks.

  “No. They never were, even before his gubernatorial bid.”

  “How’s it going with Lizzy?”

  I haven’t seen her all week. She’s been avoiding me. She sends my calls to voicemail and keeps her text replies brief. “I’m twenty-seven years old and I’ve never had a real relationship before. I’m afraid I don’t know how.”

  Ryann snorts then throws her hand over her mouth. “Oh. Sorry. You’re serious.”

  “I’m serious,” I grumble.

  “Well, have you asked her out, stupid?”

  “Yes, she was my date for Hanna’s wedding.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Not have you asked her to go with you to an event you have to go to anyway. Have you asked her on a date that is just about the two of you? A real date. She volunteers at the animal shelter tomorrow. You should come by, help her walk the dogs, and ask her on a date.”

  “Think she’ll go for it?”

  She shrugs. “She seems to like your ugly mug, so probably, but you’re kind of missing the point.”

  “What point?”

  “You want a relationship? You have to put yourself out there and risk being rejected.”

  * * *

  Liz

  The Humane Society of New Hope is full of old strays unlikely to ever be adopted. The signs on their cages are like the descriptions on real-estate listings, trying to make them sound fancier than they are. Shepherd-Lab mix, Husky-Corgi mix, Poodle-Lab mix. In all cases, mutt would be more honest. These are dogs without homes. A lot of them were simply dropped here—people like to come to the country to drop dogs. It makes them feel better about abandoning them. As if they’re just trying to give the dogs a good life, when the truth is they found the dog to be too inconvenient or their infatuation wore off once they weren’t cute puppies anymore.

  “Welcome back,” Ryann says when I walk in the door. “They’re waiting for you.”

  She hands me the keys that open the locks on the kennels and a pair of leashes, and I enter into the loud hallway lined with kennels of the older dogs. There are a few puppies around the corner in the next room, but the puppies get plenty of playtime and attention. These raggedy old mutts, though? They need me.

  “Hey, Princess,” I whisper, coming to the first dog’s cage. The sign says Black Lab mix, and that’s probably accurate enough. Part black Lab, part something that makes her nose squished, and something else that makes her tale fluffy and curly like a
Husky’s.

  I open the cage and slip on the leash. Her tail swishes back and forth in the universal dog sign for love, happiness, and dinnertime.

  A lot of the dogs I can walk two at a time, but Princess needs special treatment. It’s almost as if she gets sad to have to share my attention with anyone else, so I’ve taken to walking her on her own.

  I wrap my scarf around my neck, and we go out the back door and through the play area to the gate. The snow crunches under our feet as we walk. The air is frigid, but the sun is shining today and the sky is blue. More snow is coming in this weekend, pretty much guaranteeing we’ll have a white Christmas.

  “When are you going to adopt that dog already?”

  I turn at the sound of the voice and find Sam walking behind me. He must be walking home from work. He has a long, heavy coat on, but it’s only partially buttoned, and underneath I can see he’s still dressed in a shirt and tie. “Oh, hey.”

  His eyes warm with his smile and he lengthens his stride to catch up with me. “Mind if I join you?”

  “I—of course not.” Dear Heart, Chill the fuck out. M’kay? Thanks. Because my heart can’t be doing somersaults at the sight of Sam anymore.

  If Sam found out about River . . . about Connor . . .

  My stomach mimics my heart and does a somersault of its own—but the sick kind, not the happy, fluttery kind. “How was your week?” I ask to end the silence.

  “It was okay. I’ve been . . . distracted most of the week.”

  We stop as Princess sniffs at a tree, then does her best to water it. “Distracted? Why?”

  He cocks his head at me, and the corner of his mouth quirks in a self-conscious smile. “Weren’t you? Even a little?”

  My cheeks heat. Right. Distracted. Because we spent Saturday night and the better part of Sunday morning having wild and crazy monkey sex. And it was so good, really, who could think of anything else? Only a woman who has some terrible secret to hide, that’s who.