Hadn’t we talked while dancing? A joke about the idiots taking our pictures or the fat ambassador that had brought her, the vegetarian, an animal skull as a gift. Surely we’d talked some. Not just about business.
“Well, how about that dance then?” Veronica leaned forward a little more, putting her ample cleavage on display for me.
“You know, I’m not really in a dancing mood.” I focused on the woman in front of me. In fact I wanted the fuck out of this place. “How about that quote?”
“I’d love the chance to do something on you.” Ronnie cocked her head to the side. “A story or interview about how you’re adjusting. I imagine it must be hard.”
“You know, hard is an interesting word.” I snagged a glass of wine from one of the revolving waiters and handed it to her. Maybe I could blow off a little steam tonight. “I’d be happy to show you how I’m adjusting. When do you have time?”
“Tonight would be wonderful.” She glanced over at Maddie who was dancing with Franks. The asshole’s hands drifted too low on her back and I watched as she moved them back up to her waist. The woman in front of me cleared her throat gently. “If you don’t have any obligations that is.
“My flat is only a couple of blocks from here.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. Her hand reached out and traced the cuff of my sleeve. I flicked my eyes to where Maddie was dancing with Franks before turning my attention back to the bombshell next to me. I let my eyes focus on the ample cleavage thrust in my direction. It had been too long since I’d had sex to pass up the offer.
Draining my beer, I threw some tip money on the table and grabbed her hand. “Sounds like the perfect place to get to know one another better.”
As we left the building I deliberately made sure I didn’t look back at Maddie. Even if I had no idea why that mattered.
Chapter 5
Maddie
“So your father didn’t send you to Guantanamo?” Phoebe’s voice asked from my phone speaker.
“This is much worse.” I wrapped a rubber band around the bottom of my braid and looked in the mirror.
This was me. No fancy dresses or small talk. No hours spent in front of a mirror while someone curled my hair. Faded spots on the knees of my favorite jeans, a long-sleeve t-shirt with save a tree, climb a lumberjack on the front, and my hair pulled back into a braid added up to the perfect outfit.
“It can’t be that bad. Maybe he’s changed.” Her voice was optimistic, but then again it was always optimistic. It was one of the things I loved about her even though it drove me batty at times.
“He’s still Jake Simmon. He might look a little different, but he’s just an obnoxious guy.” A stupid guy. A really hot and stupid guy.
“You’ll be doing something that’ll help people and maybe you won’t have to do much with him. You can pose for pictures and then go beat things with a hammer.” She laughed. “It’s like therapy.”
“You’re not helping, Phoebe.”
“Sorry. But look at the bright side. You don’t have to wear a fancy dress or make lots of boring small talk. You can wear your favorite work boots and keep your head down.” Her voice took on a chipper note. “And I mentioned beating things with a hammer, right?”
I picked up the phone and turned it back to handset mode so no one walking by would hear our conversation.
“I wish I was going on the trip to South Africa with you.” I frowned at my reflection.
“I’ll just be wearing work boots on a different continent. Our family vacations are never very relaxing.” Her voice took on a tired tone. “All work and no play.”
“Don’t pretend like you’re bummed on my account.” I snorted. “You love it and I know it.”
“I tried,” she sighed. “Just promise me that while I’m gone you’ll try to find the bright side. It’s not all bad.”
She was right about that much. I wouldn’t have to dance with anyone, which was a plus. What had I been thinking telling Jake that I was going to dance with Jason Franks? Jason was a lecherous asshole. I hated his guts. And yet, every time I opened my mouth around Jake out popped something idiotic. Not today though. Today I’d keep my head down and focus on helping. Besides, it’d been obvious he was going to screw Ronnie the Bimbo when they left together. If I got tongue-tied around him again, I’d just remember he was like every other guy: a raging horn dog interested in fake breasts and sexy dresses.
If fake boobs and wearing tight dresses made Ronnie happy, that was all good and well. I just couldn’t stand that she used it to get ahead. Or maybe it was the fact that she had slept with two of my exes in an attempt to get information about me. No one had shared anything worth reporting, but they also hadn’t turned her down. Which she’d been happy to tell me all about.
“That’s what you’re wearing?” My stepmother stood in my doorway and watched me with a frown.
I took a deep breath and pulled my thoughts back to the present.
“I have to go, Phoebes. Let me know you’re okay over there.”
“Take care of yourself, Maddie.” The phone clicked off and I dropped it on my dresser.
“I’m going to a construction site to work. What else would I wear?” I picked up my work boots from next to my bed.
“I thought you were interviewing families, telling their stories for the news.” She walked over to my dressing table and picked up the Carhartt jacket I’d picked out to wear.
“We’re helping actually build the homes these families need. It’s a great opportunity to do something hands-on.” I sat down in a chair and pulled one of my boots on.
“That sounds like a good plan.”
I looked up at Abigail in surprise. “You think so?”
“Yes, I do.” She picked up one of my college sweatshirts with a grimace before folding it and setting it on my dresser. “It’ll still give the press something to look at while driving attention toward the troops that actually need it. Not a bad plan at all. Much better than what Jake’s mom was planning.”
“Heh.” I picked up my other boot and slipped it on.
“I’m sorry about the dogs. That entire process is a shame.” Genuine pity laced her words. “Your dad said that you were going to propose a bill.”
“I’m considering it.” I looked at her warily as I finished tying my boot.
“You should do it.”
Abigail had come into my life when I was young enough to need a mother, but old enough to resent a new one. My teenage years had been ugly. Especially when my father had told me Abigail was pregnant only a few months after the wedding.
She had taught me about tampons and been team mother when I played volleyball. But she wasn’t my mom. And despite the things she had done for me, she’d never tried to fill that void left behind by my real mother. She couldn’t fill that void. Where my mother had been calm, patient, and a complete hippie, Abigail had been the exact opposite.
I’d spent hours going over how to make the perfect seating chart and what not to say in public. She’d always given exactly what was expected of her when it came to me and nothing more. It had taken years for me to understand that she wasn’t what I had needed as a child, but she’d been exactly what my father had needed. She was completely different from my mother—from me. Abigail was driven and had given my father a purpose and a direction in which to move.
“You could wear a little makeup even if you’re working outside. There will be cameras.”
She was also incredibly vain.
“I’m not wearing makeup just so it can drip down my face and get in my eyes while people snap pictures.” I checked the rubber band at the end of my braid before straightening my shoulders. “I’m going to work, not impress.”
“It’s always your job to impress, Maddie.” She reached over and brushed some of the loose hair out of my face. “You’re the President’s daughter.”
“Not today.” I picked up a baseball cap. “Today, I’m just a felon doing community service.”
; “For the love of God, Maddie, don’t say that where anyone can hear you.” She followed me out of the room. “This isn’t a joke. You could have caused your father a lot of problems. You know that, right?”
“What do you want?” I went to the kitchen in the family suite and pulled out a bottle of water.
“I want you to start acting like an adult.” She crossed her arms over her favorite gray power suit.
“I’m taking responsibility for my actions.” I frowned at her.
“How about thinking of the consequences before you do something so stupid.” Her mouth pressed into a line and her eyes snapped at me. “I had to cancel my world hunger tour so I could be home to keep you in line.”
“You shouldn’t have canceled anything. I’m sorry you felt like I needed babysitting, but I swear I’m not doing anything else that stupid again. Besides, no one knows about any of it. They all just assume I’m helping out, not doing community service.” Guilt crushed my shoulders. Even if Abigail and I didn’t always get along, I knew that she had worked really hard to promote awareness of world hunger.
“Oh, they know.” She pushed the newspaper that was lying on the kitchen island toward me. “Someone spilled.”
I looked at the newspaper and clenched the water bottle in my hand.
“America’s Daughter Arrested.” I read the headline out loud and looked over the article before checking to see who was the author. “Son of a bitch!”
Veronica Whitmire’s name was listed right there for the world to see. I was going to kill Jake Simmon with my bare hands. Or maybe I’d use one of those nail guns I’d joked about last night. I’d give them all a real reason to print a story about me in the paper.
“Abigail,” I started.
“Don’t. It was only a matter of time.” She shook her head. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Who is going to take care of the food bank?” I tried to swallow my anger. My anger could wait. My dumbass stunt had just affected a really important program.
“The Vice President will be taking care of my next stop. We’ll see after that. I don’t want to get halfway across the Atlantic Ocean and find out you decided to rob a bank.” She checked her watch. “I’ll leave you to your job. I’m meeting with the Lilarian ambassador to prepare for the Prince and Duchess’s arrival.”
“When are they coming?” That was a topic shift I could get on board with.
“Six weeks? Eight? I’ll have to check my calendar. I have a ton to take care of beforehand. I know you dislike official dinners, but I’d appreciate it if you could make this one. The Duchess is only a few years older than you.”
“Sure.” I agreed automatically, feeling guilty that I’d messed up her tour. “Kind of neat to have America’s Duchess coming to the White House.”
“Makes it sound like she should be the one hosting us, doesn’t it?” Abigail lifted one of her perfect eyebrows.
“Yeah.” My weak smile wasn’t convincing either of us.
“Well, I’ll see you later.”
“Wait.”
She stopped and looked back at me.
“I’m really sorry. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking about consequences and I’m really sorry that you had to come back here. I know how important your work is to everyone.”
“Thank you.” She cocked her head to the side, her eyes appraising. “You’re a lot like Helena. She was much more likely to ask forgiveness than permission.”
I stood there as she walked out, emotions tumbling through my stomach. Had that been a compliment? An insult? Probably an insult.
But even more importantly, why had she acted as if she’d known my mother? She hadn’t met my father until after my mother had passed away.
I could barely focus on the drive to the building site. Tony had bundled me into a car and I hadn’t heard a word he’d been saying. My mind vacillated between what my stepmother had said and rage that Jake had sold me out to sleep with a reporter.
I shouldn’t be surprised Jake had thrown me to the wolves. He liked to tell on me when I did something wrong. But this seemed off even for him. I thought we’d had a good conversation the night before and wouldn’t have assumed it was him if it hadn’t been printed by his hookup. I guess being in the Marines had really changed him and not in a good way like I’d hoped.
As if things weren’t bad enough, Cruella called and I had to go over what I would say to the press. If I tried to ignore them all day, the stories would just get worse. When it came to the media, the one thing you could count on was a headline to snowball out of control.
By the time I got off the phone, we were out of the city. The SUV was in a suburb where the cherry-blossom trees flowered and people jogged down the sidewalks. I cracked the window to breathe in the fresh air and was rewarded with the sounds of yelling voices.
“Is that coming from the building site?” I looked over at Tony.
“Yes.” He leaned over to look out the front seat. “They’ve been in place since four this morning.”
“Who? The volunteers?” I craned my neck and looked out the window. “Shit. This is because of the paper.”
Media vans lined the street and I wanted to melt into my seat. I pulled my baseball cap down a little further and took a deep breath. Well, I guess I was just getting what I deserved. Despite the wine that night, part of me had known breaking into a building was a bad idea. A really bad idea.
“I’m so stupid,” I muttered.
“What was that?” Tony looked over at me with a smug expression.
“You heard me.” I made sure my shoulders were back and confident as we drove past the news vans. “I’m stupid. I shouldn’t have tried to break those dogs out. I never should have ditched you.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I could have helped?” Tony’s smug expression seemed to grow. “If anyone could have gotten you into that building without being caught, it would have been me.”
“Uh huh. And you would have helped if I’d asked?”
“I didn’t say I would actually help you. I wanted to know if you thought of asking me.” His grin was so wide I could see his dimples. “I would have put you on lockdown.”
“And that’s exactly why I didn’t ask.” I rolled my eyes.
Fourteen years my senior, Tony treated me like I was his little sister. Which was good in some ways and really bad in others. He wasn’t as stiff as some of the suits that worked in the Secret Service, especially when not in public, but it also meant that he went above and beyond when it came to checking out the guys I dated. That joke about having your father cleaning his gun on the front porch when your date shows up had nothing on Secret Service Agent Tony. Weeding out the serious guys is a lot easier when you have an ex-special ops agent that explains he knows how to torture people while glaring at the poor guy that dared to ask me out.
I didn’t think Tony had ever actually tortured people, but I also didn’t want to look too hard. Phoebe had spent a lot of time wondering about it, but that was because she had a crush on him our freshman year. As far as I knew, she’d never gotten up the courage to ask him. Especially once she met his longtime girlfriend, a hot-shot lawyer.
“Ready?” The humor in his expression was gone. His eyes scanned my face and I knew that if I hesitated he would make the call to pull out of the place.
“Gotta face the music sometime,” I answered. “Is Jake here?”
“He arrived before us.” He reached out and tapped twice on the car window.
Another agent opened the door and Tony climbed out first. I stepped outside and made sure to have a pleasant expression on my face. I’d learned early into my father’s campaign that I suffered from resting-bitch-face. That meant I had to concentrate at public events or I looked like I was pissed off. Of course, having RBF meant there were still photos of me that looked like I was contemplating stabbing people. Knowing that I didn’t photograph well also meant that I was a jump ahead when I needed to pretend to not want to stab people.
&
nbsp; I gave a small wave to the cameras and was relieved when an older woman wearing a tool belt and carrying a clipboard came over to shake my hand. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face and her jeans had patches on the knees.
This was a woman I could understand.
“Hi, I’m Trina Scott.” She held out a hand and I shook it.
“I’m Maddie. Thank you for letting us help, Trina. I’m a big fan of how you get stuff done.” I’d received an e-mail the night before from the public relations team giving me a rundown of everyone important. Trina Scott had a master’s degree and used to run her own business before starting the non-profit Returning Combat Veterans Affairs.
“Thank you. I’m pretty good at bossing people around.” The woman tucked her clipboard against her chest.
“Looks like your volunteers don’t mind.” I noticed the group of people near the concrete slab, arranging tools and piles of wood. “Do you have a lot of repeat helpers?”
“We have a few, but I think it’s safe to say we have such a large group today because of you and Mr. Simmon.” Trina turned toward where Jake stood talking to reporters.
“Let’s make sure we put them to good use then.” I put my hands on my hips. “I’m going to go say hello to the media real quick, but then I’m all yours.”
“You might regret that!” One of the older men hollered in my direction.
“Shut it, Kremdenski!” Trina raised her voice. “You might scare her away. You gonna do her work too?”
“I’ll just be over here, stayin’ out of trouble.” The man pointed to a work van. Good-natured chuckles filled the work space.
“Mm hmm. I better not catch you napping again.” She winked at me. “That’s the site foreman. He thinks he’s a comedian. Good luck with the vultures, I’ve already paid my tribute.”
Bedmates Page 5
