Dirty Work (4 page)

When the treadmill screeches and comes to a crawl, I sit up and rest my elbows on my knees. The sweat’s trickling down my shoulder, and my shirt is soaked. I’d be lying if I said I remove my shirt just to cool off.

I want her to see me.

She pats her skin with a towel she had hanging over the handle of the treadmill, still oblivious to my presence. I’m smiling before she turns around.

“Oh,” she says, her eyebrows rising quickly toward her dampened hairline. “I didn’t know you were here.” Her voice is loud when she speaks. Her eyes are traveling around my body, moving quickly from muscle to muscle as she pulls her earbuds out.

I flex my muscles, unable to stop from making a fool of myself. “I didn’t mind the company.” My tongue darts out, sweeping across my lips and capturing the salty sweat that has formed.

She hasn’t taken her eyes off me, but they’re no longer looking into my eyes. Her lips are parted, pupils dilated, and she’s watching my tongue.

“I’m a mess.” She covers her face with the towel.

“You are not.” I exhale, trying to steady my breathing. My heart is hammering in my chest harder than usual from a workout, and I can only attribute it to the nearness of Reagan.

Her sweat is trickling down her neck, following every dip and ridge until it disappears into the cleavage of her sports bra. “I better hit the shower,” she mutters into the towel, oblivious to my gawking.

My mind starts to race, and my cock starts to stir. “Need help? I can get all the places you can’t reach.”

All I can think of is her naked and wet. The soapy bubbles dancing across her skin, traveling the long silky path down her legs to the drain.

She steps off the treadmill, her eyes narrowing. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” I stay forward to cover my tenting sweats that I know are partially hidden.

“If I need a hand, I have Lexi to help.” She smirks.

I groan softly. Reagan is a fantasy, but the thought of Lexi and Reagan soapy and wet just about sends me over the edge.

“You have a good night, Titan,” she says, her eyes sweeping over my exposed skin once again.

“Reagan,” I say before her hand touches the doorknob. She pauses two feet to my right, and I can smell her, the salty sweetness of her perspiration mixed with her perfume. “We don’t have to be enemies.”

Her head falls forward, but she doesn’t look at me. “I wish that were true, Jude, but we most certainly can’t be friends.”

She walks out, leaving me with a boner and her scent lingering in the air. Reagan Preston may just be my undoing.

M
y phone lights
up with my father’s name and number yet again. I’ve been avoiding him since the TV interview the other night. I know I did poorly, and getting a lecture about it will only make me feel worse.

With a sigh, I slide my finger across the screen of my phone and put it up to my ear. “Hey, Dad.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve just been busy.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to manage damage control when you’ve got your head in the clouds?”

I feel a spark of defensiveness. “My head is
not
in the clouds. I’ve been working with my staff from morning ’til night on research and a new strategy.”

He scoffs. “That softball staff of yours isn’t prepared to deal with Jude Titan as an opponent. Sonny Solomon is one thing, but a decorated veteran is another.”

“I’m aware. And my staff is loyal to me, so I’m loyal to them. They’ve gotten me this far.”

“Listen, Reagan,” he says in his soft, good-cop tone, “you’ll never have a better opportunity to break in than this. My approval ratings are off the charts, and I’ve given you my wholehearted endorsement.”

“I know. I’m working as hard as I possibly can, Dad. I really am. Elections aren’t won overnight.”

“You don’t need to give me any advice on winning elections,” he says scornfully. “And I hope you realize what an embarrassment it will be to me if you don’t win this.”

I close my eyes and try to rein in my frustration. No one does this to me but my dad. Nothing’s ever good enough for him.

“We’re on it,” I assure him. “Jude Titan took us by surprise, but we’re getting our bearings now.”

“I can send Tom Harbor.”

“No,” I say firmly. “That won’t be necessary.”

I’m sitting at the desk in the hotel room I’m sharing with Lexi, and she steps out of the bathroom and gives me a sympathetic look.

“I think it’s more than necessary,” my father says. “You need a seasoned strategist running your campaign, not your friend from college.”

“Look, it’s under control.”

“It looked very
out
of control in that interview the other night.”

I blow out a frustrated breath. “What’s done is done. We’re adjusting our course.”

“I’ve got people who can do the background work on Titan that you’ll need when Election Day is closer.”

“Sure,” I say, resigned to the fact that I have to give in on something. “Just don’t send Tom. Background is always good.”

“Don’t ignore me again,” he says, a warning in his tone.

“I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“Reagan.”

“Fine. I won’t ignore you again.”

“I think we need to schedule some joint appearances to align your campaign more closely with me.”

I shake my head. “I want to do this on my own.”

He laughs. “That’s idealistic of you, but it doesn’t work that way.”

“Then I don’t want to win.”

His sigh is loaded with aggravation. “Stop acting like a petulant child, Reagan.”

“There’s nothing childish about wanting to win on my own merits or lose trying.”

“You’ve sure as hell ridden my coattails this far, so don’t get on a high horse now.”

I’ve tried to keep my cool, but my blood is boiling. The public sees Stan Preston as a caring man with an easy smile who loves crossing the political aisle to solve problems. He’s a family man who married his high school sweetheart and set high standards for his children.

All those things are true; my dad is a very good man. But behind closed doors, he’s blunt to the point of abrasiveness at times. And those times often hurt.

“Just how did I ride your coattails?” I ask in a frosty tone. “I thought it was me knocking on all those doors and recruiting my friends to help make phone calls and pass out flyers.”

“I deliberately played no active role in that campaign, but don’t think the name Preston didn’t open lots of doors. And pocketbooks. It was
my
friends who donated to your campaign.”

I take a calming breath. “And I appreciate it, Dad. I really do. But what I need most is your support. Not money or connections or any of that. I just want my dad to tell me I can do it.”

“You can if you take my advice and let my people do the heavy lifting.”

I roll my eyes. “I have to go, Dad. Can we talk about this later?”

His tone is crisp. “I’ve said all I needed to say.”

“Okay. Then I’ll talk to you later.”

“All right.”

I hang up and meet Lexi’s sympathetic gaze.

“He’s so overbearing,” she says. “Can you tell him to back off?”

My laugh holds no amusement. “That wouldn’t go over well.”

“He’s going to expect you to do his bidding when you get elected, you know. Do you ever wonder if that’s why he’s supporting you?”

Only every day. I shake my head at Lexi and pick up my cell phone and keycard to get back into the room.

“I need some air,” I say, getting up.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Thanks, but I need to be alone. I’m fine, I just need some time.”

She nods silently. I put on my well-worn Cubs baseball hat and slip out of the room. I wear this hat when I want to keep my head down and not be recognized. It goes well with the jeans and plain gray V-neck T-shirt I changed into earlier.

The small-town hotel we’re staying in is quiet. When I walk outside, I can’t help looking at Jude’s red, white, and blue painted campaign bus.
#TrustTitan
, it says.

I flip off the bus and head for a small bench I saw on the side of the building earlier. I’m emotionally drained. All I can do is sink onto the bench and bury my face in my hands, resting my elbows on my thighs.

When I was in law school, I studied every day so I could graduate with honors and make my parents proud. Then I ran for state representative, and the campaign took every ounce of my time and energy. Serving as state rep was no different.

And now, here I am again, burying myself even deeper in something that will consume me. I love public service, but I don’t even remember what it was like to do something just for me. Just because I wanted to. I haven’t had that luxury in so long.

“You just now realized you’re rooting for the wrong team, didn’t you?” a deep, amused voice says next to me.

I look up, and my heart skips when I see Jude. He’s wearing dark, worn-in jeans and a black T-shirt that hugs his biceps.

“What, my hat?” I ask him. “You’re a Sox fan?”

He nods. “Southside all the way, baby.”

My heart flutters again as I imagine what it would be like to actually be called that by him. I’ve never had a relationship that wasn’t in the public eye. Every man I dated had to meet with my father’s approval, and that usually meant they or their family were connected in the Democratic Party.

“I’m not surprised,” I say with a smile. “We’re polar opposites in every way, you and I.”

“May I?” he asks, gesturing at the open seat next to me on the bench.

“Why not? I already feel like shit. I’ll actually be impressed if you can make me feel any worse, Titan.”

He sits down, and I immediately feel the warmth of his body next to mine.

“You feel like shit because you’re so attracted to me,” he says. “A Southsider
and
a Republican. That’s gotta hurt. But I won’t tell anyone.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. “I don’t find cockiness appealing.”

“It’s not cocky if you can back it up.”

“Oh, and you can back it up?”

He inclines his head toward his campaign bus. “Wanna find out?”

“You’re just trying to get under my skin.”

He bumps his large shoulder against me lightly. “What’s on your mind, Reagan? I promise it’ll stay between us.”

I sigh deeply before looking over and up into his dark eyes. “The pressure. It’s hard sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see how intense it is. You make it look easy, though.”

I laugh lightly. “That’s because I have no life. This—” I gesture at the lot our buses are parked in “—is all I have.”

“You’re more accomplished than any woman I’ve ever known,” Jude says.

I look up at him with my brows drawn together, waiting for the punch line. But his expression is sincere.

“I am?”

“Yeah.” He looks at his hands, clasped in front of him as his elbows rest on his knees. “You know, I’ve felt pressure, too. When I was in combat. It’s fucking intense, knowing other people’s lives hinge on your actions.”

“That has to be the most intense pressure of all.”

“I deal with pressure by making a list,” he says.

“A list?”

He nods. “If I was in combat, I’d think of the next four or five things I needed to focus on. Put ’em in order. It helps relax me to focus on what I can control.”

“I can see that.”

“You’ll have it all one day, Reagan,” he says. “Everything you’re missing right now. You’ll have it all.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re pretty damn hard to say no to. Whatever you want, you’ll just need to ask for, and it’ll be yours.”

I don’t know if it’s his sweet words or his warm, baritone voice, but I’m so under Jude’s spell right now. My heart is pounding, and I’m warm all over.

“Just ask?” I say softly.

“That’s right.”

The warm breeze picks up a few strands of my hair. I can smell Jude’s masculine scent as he leans closer. I’ve never had a moment like this, when nothing logical mattered. As he leans in and I feel his lips close to mine, I lean, too.

Our lips meet, and my heart flies into overdrive as I feel the slight scrape of his stubble on the corner of my mouth. His mouth is so warm, and he tastes faintly of beer. I immediately want more of him, and he seems to know. His tongue meets mine, and he wraps a hand into my hair as he cups the back of my head.

There’s no pressure, no worry, and no election as our mouths explore for those few seconds. I’ve never felt such magic.

When Jude pulls away, I take in a deep breath, the realization of what just happened hitting me. I look around frantically to see if anyone saw us.

“Hey,” Jude says softly, “we’re good.”

“Shit. Is your campaign manager hiding nearby with a camera?”

Jude draws his brows together, looking a little offended. “Are you kidding?”

“How did you know I was out here?”

“I was drinking a beer on my bus, and I saw you walk by.”

I sigh deeply. How could I be so stupid? Kissing Jude Titan in a public place like this was an epically dumbass idea.

“I have to go,” I say, getting up.

“Reagan.”

Jude’s serious tone makes me turn to look at him.

“I’m not the kind of guy who would fuck you over like that. You can trust me.”

“Trust you?” I scoff. “What, because ‘
hashtag
Trust Titan’?”

“Because I’m trustworthy. You’ll find that out.”

“I have to go,” I say again.

I turn and practically run to the hotel’s front door, frantically running my keycard through the machine three times until the light finally turns green.

All I can think about is getting away from him. I’ve never in my life let my guard down like that. And of all people to let it down with, he was the worst possible choice.

Mistakes like this don’t just lose elections, they ruin political careers. If I’m lucky enough that Jude keeps this between us, I can’t ever let anything like it happen again.