The Candidate's Affair (5 page)

“Does that mean it was a more liberal neighborhood?” I asked.

“Ah-hah! Still trying to pin me down.”

The wine stuck in my throat. I knew I didn’t mean anything suggestive, but the way he strung his words together made me second-guess everything I uttered to him. I was confused. Was he baiting me, or the other way around?

“No, I’m not. I just—” I tipped the last drops of wine into my mouth and placed my empty glass next to the sink. “It’s getting late.”

I brushed past him.

“Tina, thanks for hostessing.” I pecked her on the cheek.

“You’re going already?” It was a customary response.

“Yes, I have a short day at school tomorrow, but have to get some sleep.”

“We’ll see you next month.”

I lugged my book under arm and pushed open the glass storm door. There was little relief outside from the stuffiness of Tina’s house, but the darkness made it feel cooler, even if it was only in my head.

“Wait. Audrey, wait.”

I heard his voice call across the lawn. I stopped on the sidewalk. “Hey, I was just headed home.” I thought the last part of my sentence sounded slurred.

“Why don’t I walk you?” he offered. “The way you left, I thought I might have said something I shouldn’t have.”

“No, no. It’s getting late and you’ve got potential voters in there.” I motioned toward the house. We could see the women through the window.

“But I think you promised me an hour. I’m up to the challenge if you are.”

I swallowed hard. It was flirty the way he said it, or was I reading too much into the inflection in his voice? I felt queasy from the wine and from the way I liked how Paxton spoke to me. I told myself I shouldn’t care how another man talked.

“We can walk home together. If I’ve convinced you on one topic, you’ll listen to the rest. Deal?”

It was a simple offer. A neighborly talk about the most pressing current events facing our political system. It was a walk home with someone who shared the same street—our addresses separated by a single digit. It didn’t feel as innocent as I wanted it to be, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“Deal.”

M
y skin felt dewy. I tried not to be self-conscious of how I must have looked as Paxton and I strolled under the lamplights. My dark blond hair was wavy in the thick humidity.

I stiffened when his arm brushed next to mine.

“Tell me something about you,” he urged.

My sandals scuffed over the concrete. “That’s rather broad. You already know I’m a teacher.”

“Something about what you like to do. A hobby? What about your free time?”

“I read a lot. I write a little during the summer. I don’t think there’s anything divisive in that.”

“No. I guess not.” He paused. “I know one.”

“One of my hobbies?”

“Maybe.”

I wondered what presumptions he had made about my free time.

“Do you own a gun?”

I stopped on the pavement. “A gun?”

“Yes. But I’m guessing by that response you aren’t a gun-toting Southern woman.”

I shook my head. “No, I’ve never even held one.”

“We should do something about that.”

“I haven’t held one because I don’t like guns. I’m not comfortable around them. Never have been.”

“Then this is the perfect issue for us to dissect.”

I looked at him. He was at least a head taller than me, taller than Spence I realized. “You’re assuming you know my stance on gun control because I’ve never held a gun, and in this one walk to the house, you’re going to make me a gun lover?”

“Something like that. But, I didn’t say gun lover. Those are
your
words.”

“Do you have a gun?” I asked.

“Several in fact. I’m a member at one of the shooting clubs.”

I tried to picture him hitting targets. “I don’t think I could ever be comfortable with them.”

“Then you are going to be my project. I will get you to think you should give me your vote even if we disagree. Trust that I will take your concerns into consideration every time I face legislation on gun control. Because I will, Audrey. I’ll think about this exact conversation. This is my job. I want to listen. I want to hear everything you’re thinking about.”

We hadn’t started the discussion yet, and I could already feel the shift in my thinking leaving me feeling unbalanced, as if I had one leg hanging off a balance beam. Paxton had a way with words that was seductive.

“Is it important to you that I like you?” I didn’t mean to be blunt.

“Yes.” His arm brushed mine again, but this time I wasn’t sure it was an accident.

“I’m just one little vote. You probably have the rest of the neighborhood in the bag. The book club was impressed with you.”

I thought he might be digesting my statement. “Every vote counts. Every person matters. You matter.”

We turned at the corner. I could see my driveway ahead. “You sound like an idealist.”

The center of my chest warmed when I heard the sound of his laugh. I wasn’t supposed to feel that when I heard another man laugh. I wasn’t supposed to react at all.

“I’ve been accused of worse. How about an idealist who wants his ideals to become reality?” He ventured a compromise.

I wondered if he and Sarah had conversations like these. Did he try to change her stance on issues? Did he woo her to his side of the fence with charismatic comebacks?

“Audrey?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

“I think I lost you for a second.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“I aimed too high with gun control, didn’t I? It’s an intense issue.” His expression changed.

“It’s not that.” I couldn’t explain what was happening. I should be able to have a mature conversation with my neighbor. We should be able to stroll on the sidewalk. I should be able to be next to him without thinking about his lips. Lips that smiled like a movie star. Something was changing and I couldn’t stop it.

There was enough light filtering through the crepe myrtles that I could see the muscles tensing in his neck. Had I said something wrong?

The flowerbed that marked the entrance to Paxton’s driveway was a few paces from where we stood. I quickened my step.

“I like talking to you. It’s nice to be able to talk without worrying about the consequences.”

My eyes flashed to his. But there were consequences. Things were happening inside me. My skin was flushed, my nerves vibrating, my pulse thumping hard against the inside of my head. He couldn’t see any of it, but I wasn’t certain he didn’t feel it.

I took a step, forgetting about the lumpy spot in front of his driveway, and almost landed on my face. Paxton gripped my arm, pulling me upward, saving me from landing facedown.

“Whoa there. You ok?”

“God, I’m sorry.” I shook off his hold. “I’m fine. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Stupid roots everywhere.” I noticed the way my arm ached from his grip. It was warm and pulsing. “Good night. Thanks for walking me home.” I wanted to run, speed past him. Run straight out of my skin.

“But, it’s dark. Let me at least drop you off at your door,” he suggested. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

I hesitated. There was a part of me hoping he would offer.

“All right. We can cut through your yard. There’s a short cut.”

“Show me.”

I followed Paxton along the driveway, noticing the lights in my house were off. This was late even for Spencer. Maybe he had gone to bed.

We passed the front porch, and I pointed to the path I used earlier that day. I could feel him behind me, taking each step I took. I grabbed one of the stiff magnolia branches and forced it to the side when I felt his hand land on top of mine.

I stopped, frozen with dread, consumed with something I hadn’t felt in years. I held onto the branch, and Paxton held onto my hand, the warmth of his palm starting to heat my skin.

His breath was heavy on my neck. It felt like waves pounding against me, each one eroding the barrier between us. I was afraid to turn around, afraid that if I looked at him I would unravel. As long as I stared at the branch, I was still in control. I couldn’t speak.

With his free hand, he pushed the hair off my neck and blew across the collar of my shirt. My knees wobbled and I gripped tighter on the branch, forcing it to keep me upright.

It was involuntary, but my head reeled back. He stepped closer. I didn’t know who I was. Hiding in the shadows while a man I barely knew touched me, like a woman who was available. A woman who was free to make choices about who touched her. I wasn’t that woman. My life was tied to Spence. Those choices weren’t mine to make, but I was making one. His was breathing freedom across my skin I didn’t know I craved.

His hand canvassed my neck, taking my throat in his palm. He ran a finger down the center, pressing lightly as he crossed my collarbone. I didn’t think I could stand there much longer as his fingertips explored my skin. The cicadas echoing around our yards drowned out the sound of my heavy breath.

I needed to stop this. But I craved it more.

I couldn’t open my eyes when he turned me toward him. If I kept them closed, it was as if I were dreaming. This was all a wine-induced dream. I could tell myself it wasn’t happening. Standing under the branches with a man only hours ago I didn’t know, but was unquestionably drawn to. Pulled in by his voice, the look in his eye, the energy around him. How he managed to be rugged, yet refined. But I knew when his mouth took mine that it was real. I could taste the wine on his tongue and the roughness of his palms as he held my face. I savored the newness of him—our lips moving wildly.

I clutched at his back. The kiss grew hungrier, our moans turning to whimpers as we snatched at the clothes between us. His teeth grazed across my throat, nipping at the soft spots tenderly then cutting in just enough to tease me.

I tensed when I felt his hand slide along my stomach and push my bra out of the way. It was too much. I tried to break away and Paxton hung his head.

“God, I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I shook my head, feeling sick. “We can’t do this. I-I didn’t want you to kiss me. You weren’t supposed to kiss me.” My fists balled at my side.

“I know. I know. It was out of line. I got carried away.” He ran his fingers through his perfect haircut. “I’m sorry. That was idiotic.”