Life of the Party

by Kris Fletcher

  The hell of it was that it seemed he had developed some minimum daily requirement for her, because the less time she spent in the office, the more time she spent in his dreams. He’d never before had to walk into a meeting and start reciting talking points to distract himself from memories of dreams with a definite Coffee, Tea, or Me? vibe, but it had happened with Jenna.

  Twice.

  By the time Primary Day dawned, he almost wished he would lose, just so he could fall into bed at night without wondering how his subconscious was going to taunt him this time.

  “Polls close at eight,” Ram said for about the thirtieth time as they walked into headquarters that evening—a major achievement, since they had only been gone for the half hour it took to drive an elderly voter to her polling station and then home. “We should have the count by nine—ten at the latest. Then it’s gonna get real.”

  Because they had just been practicing so far. “You know, it’s possible I might not win.”

  Ram held the door for him. “Cole, the only other people on the ballot are a man who’s been running for office since his kids convinced him to move into that retirement place, and a woman running on a platform of free-range cats. This is just a bridge we have to cross.”

  And what would be waiting for him on the other side?

  He entered the room to loud cheers. Someone tweeted a birthday blower. A balloon flew through the air, though thank God, no one was throwing confetti on the new carpet. People crowded around him, congratulating him, slapping him on the back. Laughter and excitement bubbled like champagne. Not that he minded, but wasn’t this a bit premature?

  He caught Allison winking at Ram, who gave her a thumbs-up. Ah. So that was why they had insisted that Cole go along to help deliver Mrs. McGillicuddy to her polling place.

  “Whoa!” He made “quiet” motions with his arms, scanning the assembled faces, not admitting what he was doing until he spotted Jenna hovering at the edges. She hadn’t been around when he left. In the spare three seconds he’d had, he had hoped she would make an appearance. Not because it didn’t feel complete without her. Of course not. But she had worked as hard as any of them, and she deserved to be part of the night.

  That was all.

  Really.

  And the fact that the room felt a lot brighter now? That must be the balloons.

  He waited until he had their attention before speaking. “Remind me never to trust Ram the next time he says we have to help a little old lady,” he said, to great laughter. Yeah. They had all been in on this.

  He was ready to say something about jumping the gun, or jinxing the results. After all, there was still an hour before voting ended. But as he took in the smiles and inhaled their excitement, he figured out exactly why they should be celebrating now.

  “I was going to hold off on any excitement until we had official news,” he told them. “But you know what? You guys were absolutely right to start the party now. Because this isn’t a celebration of winning or losing. It’s a celebration of weeks of work, and a job well-done. It’s a celebration of a group of people that has turned into a well-oiled, finely skilled team. No matter what happens tonight—”

  “Bite your tongue!” Ram said, with an elbow to his ribs. Cole nudged him back.

  “No matter what happens when the polls close, folks, this celebration is for you. For all your hard work and your time and your energy. Most of all, for believing in me.”

  He checked on Jenna again. She was applauding along with everyone, but with the tiniest frown. It was like she was waiting for him to say something else.

  “Of course, I feel kind of like an idiot for being clueless and making you guys arrange your own party,” he said. “I’m still learning the ropes. But I promise you this: the next one is totally on me.”

  Cheers erupted around him. He risked another glance at Jenna. The expectant face had been replaced by one of approval.

  Ridiculous to be so pleased at making her smile . . . but that was the way it was.

  He let himself be dragged into the room, to the food spread over the table that usually held the mailing supplies. No pizza and takeout tonight. This was potluck, pure and simple, and he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten anything home cooked other than his morning scrambled egg. There were probably fifteen cans of cream of sodium soup folded into the dishes before him, and tonight he didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  Tonight was all about his team. And letting them know how much he appreciated all of their efforts.

  The next hour—the one he had been dreading through the day, the time between the closing of the polls and the official word—didn’t drag as he had expected, but flew by, aided by laughter and beer and stories from the trail. He made sure everyone had a chance to talk. Even those who had never left the office had tales of phone calls from people who wanted to complain about Cole’s policies, wanted to inform him that there hadn’t been a good mayor since Reagan was in office and what did some young punk know about running the city, and wanted to know his position on aliens using the elementary school playground as a landing pad.

  That one had him choking on his brownie. “Seriously?”

  “I kid you not.” Aubrey grinned and pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “Though they might have been launching, not landing. I can’t swear to either.”

  “I have no idea why not.”

  “What did you tell the guy?” Tim asked.

  There were probably cherubs that looked less innocent than Aubrey at that moment. “Oh, you know. The standard line about not being aware of this until he mentioned it, but if he could send us some information, I’d be glad to pass it on to you.”

  “Funny,” said Cole. “I don’t remember getting that e-mail.”

  Ram raised his beer. “I did.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. And I wrote back and assured him that we would be watching for the next arrival, and we would make sure they signed a standard disclaimer releasing the school and town from any liability in case of injury or damage to them or their vehicle.”

  “Did you get a reply?” Allison leaned forward in her chair, more relaxed than Cole could recall seeing her in days.

  “Yep.” Ram snorted. “I believe it was something along the lines of damned lawyers who only care about being sued when they should be making sure they have the National Guard on speed dial.”

  The group burst into laughter so loud and strong that it almost muffled the ringing of the telephone on Allison’s desk.

  Almost.

  As quickly as the laughter had begun, it stopped. Fifteen heads swiveled toward the clock on the wall.

  The polls had closed half an hour earlier.

  “That’s probably for you,” Ram said.

  Cole stood, palms damp, mouth dry. His eyes sought Jenna’s.

  She shook her head. Tiny. Unnoticeable to anyone not watching closely. But he saw it, and raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

  Jenna tipped her head ever so slightly in Allison’s direction.

  Ah.

  “Actually,” he turned to Allison, “I think you should be the first to hear.”

  He’d known her his whole life, but couldn’t remember ever making her look so gratified.

  “Sure.”

  Half the people in the room swiveled in their seats to follow Allison’s progress as she walked to the phone. The other half stood and crowded forward. Cole took advantage of their distractedness to catch Jenna’s eye.

  She nodded.

  He winked.

  Her mouth tipped up in a sudden, light-up-the-room smile, the kind that made him feel like he had done something momentous and amazing, rather than simply giving his campaign manager the honor she deserved.

  Jenna might pooh-pooh the things she had picked up in her trophy wife days, but there was no denying tha
t some of it came in damned handy.

  Allison’s voice rang out, clear and strong. “Hello?”

  Cole was pretty sure that no one in the room had breathed since the phone first rang.

  “Yes,” Allison said. “Yes it is. Right. Yes, ready. Go ahead.” She scribbled something on a piece of paper and broke into a muffled squeal.

  Wait. Allison? Squealing?

  Cole would have to make sure someone else gave her a ride home.

  “Thank you very much. Right. To you, too.”

  She hung up and waved the paper in the air. “With a solid seventy-three percent of the vote, the candidate for the office of mayor of Calypso Falls will be Cole Dekker!”

  Chapter Seven

  Cole had learned a lot about his team over the past weeks. One thing he hadn’t suspected, though, was their ability to party.

  The potluck and balloons had been just the beginning. Once the official word came through, the atmosphere switched to full celebration mode. There were streamers. More birthday blowers. Corks popping. Bubbles, both the champagne variety and the ones coming from the corner where Jenna sat, dipping a wand into a cup over and over, her mouth pursed into a shape far too enticing for Cole’s peace of mind as she blew streams of bubbles that danced around the room.

  There was laughter and music and dancing. More food landed on the table. The damned confetti appeared, though he convinced Aubrey to toss the bulk of it outside.

  Through it all, Cole kept being tugged back to Jenna. Now she was in the middle of the room, leading Allison and Aubrey in some dance that looked like a modified hula and set her full skirt swaying around her knees. She was at the computer, anxiously checking the news reports for the official announcements. She was back in the corner, talking intently to Tim, gesturing with her glass of champagne and spilling a little of it on her shirt, then laughing as she dabbed at it with a napkin.

  Or—wait a minute. That wasn’t her hand dabbing so close to her curves.

  Cole stopped in mid-sentence and slipped away from Ram, dodging through the dancers until he reached the corner where Jenna and Tim were . . . um . . . casually talking.

  “Hey guys!” Cole forced himself to sound hearty, cheery, all those good things. “Everything okay over here?”

  “Sure thing. You must be on top of the world, huh?” Tim didn’t sound like he’d been interrupted in mid-seduction. And Jenna’s smile held only its usual Mona Lisa promise, while in her eyes he read nothing but pleasure and a mild curiosity.

  So either he had misinterpreted what he saw, or he’d been correct but Jenna had welcomed Tim’s advances.

  God, he hoped he’d read things wrong.

  “It’s a great night,” he said, slapping Tim on the back. “You guys have worked your asses off. In fact, I think I’m going to order everyone to stay away from this place tomorrow, take a day to relax. See the family. Hang out with friends. I mean, you’ve been in here every night. When was the last time you got to spend any time with—what was her name? Taylor?”

  The confusion on Tim’s face was quickly replaced by amusement. “Yeah, it’s Taylor. And he is currently doing a three-month stint in Tokyo, so this election came at the perfect time.”

  Cole was pretty sure Jenna was either choking on her drink or trying desperately to keep from busting a gut.

  “Ah. Got it.” Backpedal, Dekker. Fast. “Yeah, that’s lucky for me that you had the extra time when we needed you most. What’s he doing in Tokyo?”

  Tim talked about business and projects and Taylor’s double major in engineering and Japanese. Cole listened with one ear—after all, Taylor could still file an absentee ballot, and frankly it was kind of interesting—while the rest of him was tuned to Jenna. She, unlike him, seemed totally focused on Tim. She asked questions in all the right places. Questions that Cole would never have thought to ask, but within ten minutes he had learned more about Japanese business practices and the challenges of marrying Japanese daily life to a Western mind-set than he would have thought possible.

  She was good at this. At drawing people out, letting them know she took them seriously, making them feel important. It may have been another holdover from her days with her ex—after all, he would have had many business associates in need of courting—but Cole doubted it. Jenna might have refined her techniques over the years but he strongly suspected that her interest and ability were both inborn and genuine.

  She liked people. It was that simple.

  Maybe she should be the one running for office.

  Tim finished up a description of his last horrific flight home from Tokyo, complete with weather delays, an engine malfunction, and being seated next to a kid with an ear infection, then looked around and said, “Whoa. Did the clock strike midnight?”

  Sure enough, the party was over. The music had stopped. Folks were covering plates with foil and grabbing their bags. The laughter was still there, but subdued now, as if each of his volunteers were a balloon that had most definitely popped.

  Cole had to get them all before they left.

  He grabbed a chair, hopped up to stand on it, and called for everyone’s attention.

  “Folks, thank you all, again, for tonight. Not just for all your hard work that gave us this first victory, but for having the sense to make this a celebration. You all earned it. And now I want you to do one more thing for me. I want you all to solemnly swear that you won’t come within a mile of this place tomorrow. I want you all to take at least one night off, maybe even two or three. Get rested up. Enjoy your families. Do your laundry. The big fight is ahead and we’re all going to need to be at the top of our game. So thanks again, take the balloons and snacks home to your kids and whatever, and I’ll see you all in a day or two!”

  Exhausted applause met his words. One by one, folks said good night and departed. Just in time he remembered to check on Allison, only to see that she was getting a ride with Tim.

  Good man, Tim.

  Ram, of course, was the last to leave. “Have a good night?”

  Cole dumped a paper plate into the trash. “The best. You guys were smart to set this up.”

  “It was Jenna’s idea. She organized it all.”

  Why did that come as no surprise?

  Ram grabbed a plastic tablecloth and pulled it from the table. “Listen, I hate to leave you with this, but Tia has been waking us at the butt crack of dawn the last few days, and Lucy is still in the exhaustion phase of pregnancy, so—

  “Go.” Cole shooed him toward the door. “Out of here. Get some beauty sleep.” He managed a tired grin. “Trust me, you need all of that you can get.”

  “Smart-ass.” Ram pulled his keys from his pocket. “Promise me you won’t try to finish all this tonight. You need to hit the hay yourself.”

  “It won’t take long.”

  “Especially with me helping,” came an unexpected voice from behind.

  “Jenna?” Cole turned, fast. “What are you still doing here? I thought you left already.”

  She shrugged. “I was in the kitchen. Someone knocked over a stack of paper cups, and they rolled everywhere.” She waved toward the door. “Night, Ram.”

  “Night, Jenna. Night, Cole.”

  Cole turned back toward Ram just in time to catch his friend’s slight nod toward Jenna, followed by a fast wink before he slipped out the door.

  Great. Just great. Because Cole hadn’t already been suddenly and painfully aware that he and Jenna were now alone in the storefront. And that the parking lot was deserted, lit only by a sole street lamp and the moon. And that Jenna’s flippy, floaty skirt fell loose around her legs, and would be no hindrance at all if a man were to want to slide his hand up her thigh.

  Not that Cole was going to do that.

  Absolutely not.

  Really.

  ***

  Jenna moved slowly around the roo
m, hunting for stray Solo cups, beer bottles, and discarded bits of food. Well, officially, that was what she was doing. In reality, she was fighting to keep her breathing under control. Because she could swear that when Ram left, every oxygen molecule in the room had followed in his wake.

  She pressed her fingers to her forehead. Who was she trying to kid? It wasn’t like there was anyone here to convince. Anyone other than her . . . and Cole. . . . and the looming Lust Lizard that had manifested the minute the door closed. She was sure that if she turned fast enough she would spot it, perched on the table with wings folded over its chest and a knowing gleam in its eye.

  She would bet every last cent of her divorce settlement that the Lust Lizard would sound a lot like Aunt Margie.

  She stuffed items blindly into a trash bag as she worked her way around the room. Slowly. She was tired, and her leg was dragging more than usual, which always happened when she got worn down. Her leg got heavier and her smile slipped and her judgment got cloudy.

  That last one was the really tricky part.

  “Jenna.” Cole’s voice was low and gentle. “You don’t need to do this. Go home.”

  Smart man. She should listen to him.

  “It’ll only take a few minutes. Faster if we share the load, right?”

  There. That was a good message to send. It was very keep your eyes on what matters without being at all keep your hands away from me because the Lust Lizard is stirring.

  “How’s your résumé coming?”

  Résumé. Job search. Excellent topic. “Much improved, thank you. I had the folks at the university’s career counseling center take a look at it, and they gave it a big thumbs-up.”

  “That’s great. What kind of work are you looking for?”

  “PR would be my first choice.” Or anything else where she got to push a brand or a company without having to draw attention to herself.

  “That’s a good fit for you.”

  Oh God. Good fit were so not the words she needed to hear coming from Cole’s mouth. Especially when, as now, he’d been doing a lot of talking and his voice had taken on a rough edge, a gravelly undertone that wrapped his words in layers and mystery and promise.