Trouble When You Walked In (Contemporary Romance) (30 page)

“Sure.”

“Should I walk away so you can have privacy?”

“No, that’s okay.” She felt suddenly wistful. “I wouldn’t mind you hearing my acceptance speech, since I probably won’t ever get to deliver it.”

“Come on, now. You can’t say that yet.”

“I know I shouldn’t.” Her spirits perked back up, and she grinned. “I take it back.”

“Good,” he said, and showed her how to use the app.

She practiced a few times, then began speaking as the victorious mayoral candidate while looking directly at him. It was empowering to role-play being the primary person who could effect change in Kettle Knob. She stopped to consider a phrase. She started up again, then once again paused. Just when she needed him to, he smiled. Or nodded his head emphatically. At one point she wanted to scratch a whole paragraph—it was about how Kettle Knob’s past was its bridge to the future, and she thought it sounded way too clichéd—so he helped her delete it.

Eventually, she had a speech that made her happy.

“It’s the perfect length,” he said, “just enough to keep them wanting more.”

“Thanks.” She lowered the phone.

He took her elbows, hovered over her. “How about a concession speech?” He was teasing her now.

Slowly, she lifted the phone to her lips. Pressed start. “I concede … nothing.” She lowered the phone. Kept her eyes on his, which gleamed.

“Is that so?” he asked, moving closer.

She nodded.

“Nothing?” He was a huge fan of twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

She was captured by his gaze. “That’s right,” she whispered.

He took the phone out of her hand, put it in his pocket. Pulled her up against his chest. “A mayor has to learn to negotiate. To compromise.”

“Only on some things.” She felt powerful, focused—confident as a woman—in a way she never had.

“I’d like to try to find out what those things are. Let’s have a meeting. Right now.” And then he kissed her.

Her senses swam. She didn’t want to come up for air. He pulled her to the bench and onto his lap. Their coats were thick shields between them, making the connection of skin on skin that much more exciting.

He stopped and unbuttoned his wool jacket, and she slid her hands in around his shirt.

“Oh, you feel good,” she said.

Understatement of the year.

He kept kissing her and unzipped her fleece coat, thrilling her when his hands moved in, caressed her waist and back, then teased her breasts.

Their breath came in clouds.

“How come I’m not cold?” she murmured.

“Me, either.”

The darkness of the square enveloped them. There was no sound but their hearts, their breathing, their teenage fumbling with all those clothes.

“It’s below freezing, you know,” she said when he unbuttoned her shirt and kissed her bare breast with his hot mouth and tongue.

“Not where we are,” he murmured.

He was right. There was such heat between them. She dug her hand like a spade between the front of his shirt and his pants to get to him, and when she made contact, he groaned.

She loved it. He felt silky soft and hard and hot. The juncture between her thighs ached for him.

The houses and businesses around the square were dark.

He pulled back to look at her full-on. “If we do the deed—all the way—I know this is your first time in a long time.”

“How can we, in our clothes?” she asked in their cocoon of warmth.

He laughed. “We don’t even have to move. But we can always go back to the house.”

“I can’t wait that long.” She smiled. “Besides, I hear sex in a gazebo rocks.”

He grinned and kissed her. “We’ll make sure it does.”

He pulled her black ski pants down to her upper thighs. Her coat covered her bottom.

She helped yank his jeans down just far enough for access. “Do you have something?”

“Always,” he said, and pulled a tinfoil packet out of his wallet.

And the rest came naturally. She straddled him, her feet on the bench on either side of his hips. Put her arms around his neck. He held her tight, his hand splayed across her rear, so she wouldn’t fall.

And then for the first time in a decade, Cissie Rogers had sex. Inside that warm cave of down and wool, she lowered herself onto Boone—the reality of what he had to offer so much better than any of her fantasies—and rode him hard, with no awkwardness, just utter thrill and abandon, while he teased her with his fingers.

When she slipped over the edge, her moans were low and private, just for him. He suckled one of her breasts and told her things that made her want to start all over again. He sped up. So did she. This time was even more spectacular because she was looking into his eyes when she came harder than before, right when he did, one of his hands on her butt and the other on her breast as he told her she was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen.

And then the world came back, and they were sitting on a hard, cold bench in a gazebo in the middle of Kettle Knob, the same gazebo they’d each deliver a speech in two days later.

One would be the victor.

One would be the loser.

But they’d both remember this.

How could they ever forget?

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Cissie finished work the next day, flush with good feelings about her town and the people in it and heady with the satisfaction that comes from good loving. She couldn’t stop thinking about Boone and how much she wanted to be with him—all the time.

She was crazy, madly in love with the mayor.

The worm-in-the-apple sign had come down from behind the desk at the library. In its place was a new sign Sally had made, and it said, “This Library Has My Heart” in that funky writing of hers. She’d drawn lots of hearts on it, and she’d taken it all over town and gotten people to sign their names in the hearts.

Hank Davis hung the sign perfectly straight behind the desk.

“He got real good hanging up your signs everywhere,” Sally explained.

“Thank you so much.” Cissie hugged her dear friends and felt almost like the library was breathing all around her. It was still alive. She had the feeling it felt appreciated. Surely all her ancestors were smiling down at her because she was doing right by them.

She was on her way to Laurie’s house after work when she realized she’d better call her parents before they went to sleep. As it was, it was already eleven o’clock at night in Cambridge, England. She loved the funny overseas ring. Her heart started thumping wildly when they answered. She missed them.

“Mother, Daddy?”

“Hello, darling,” her mother said in that Vermont accent, but now it had a slightly British sound to it.

Cissie imagined her father was like Winston Churchill, with a cigar between his teeth, when he said, “Cissie, my love. How goes it?”

“Um, swimmingly,” she said with a broad smile.

Would they understand her trying to be elegant? English? Like Elizabeth Bennet?

“That’s lovely,” said her mother.

“The election is tomorrow,” Cissie reminded them.

She’d told them in an email, but they’d yet to talk about it on the phone. They’d written back a short message asking three questions: 1) was her campaign fully funded? 2) by whom? and 3) what was her platform?

All intelligent questions. She only wished … Oh, never mind, it was silly to wish that they’d said other things, like
We need to Skype and strategize with you
, or
Maybe we’ll take a few days to come back and cheer you on
, or
We’ll send you a campaign contribution
.

“Good luck,” Daddy said.

“Yes,” said Mother. “Are you prepared to be mayor if you win?”

“As prepared as I can be with no experience,” Cissie said. “I’ve learned a lot during the campaign.”

“Our quiet little Cissie, on the campaign trail.” Her father sounded pleased, which made her happy.

“How’s Nana?” Mother asked.

“Boone’s house is very comfortable, and she’d holding up well. But I think she’s missing home. Every once in a while, I sense a little wistfulness on her part.”

“Of course,” said Daddy. “That’s only natural.”

A car whizzed by and honked the horn at Cissie. She waved, having no idea who was inside the vehicle. She was becoming something of a minor celebrity since her campaign started.

“I love you,” said Cissie.

“We love you, too,” said her father.

Her mother always had trouble getting the words out, but she’d told Cissie once that it was her New England upbringing, and Cissie tried her best to understand.

When she hung up, she felt the old loneliness that made her feel awkward. Gawky. But at Laurie’s, she was welcomed with big hugs from Sam and Stephen.

“You two,” she said.

They jumped on her together, and she almost fell over.

“Stop it, boys!” their mother said, and clapped her hands at them like they were pets she needed to shoo off.

They ran into the backyard.

Laurie looked more frazzled than usual.

“Everything okay?” Cissie asked her.

“No.” Laurie shook her head slowly. “Everything’s terrible. I’m sorry. I wish I could hide it. I know tonight’s a big night for you. And so is tomorrow.” Her voice broke on the last few words.

“Nothing’s more important than you being happy.” Cissie immediately hugged her. “What happened?”

Laurie sniffled. “Perry—he’s been seeing someone. That’s why he’s been traveling so much.”

Cissie sucked in a breath and drew back. “Are you sure?”

Laurie nodded. “He told me himself this afternoon. He wants a divorce. He’s already talking about getting serious with this other person. She’s in sales at the company’s office in Wilmington. He met her on a work trip.”

Cissie grabbed her close again. “I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe this.”

“Me, either,” squeaked Laurie. “I’m worried about the boys.”

“No,” said Cissie. “They have a strong mother, and you have a great family and lots of friends to help you. You
will
get through this. But isn’t this awfully quick? You just heard about it today. Can you and Perry patch this up? Can’t he at least talk about it?”

Laurie shook her head. “I wish I could get the chance. I’m furious with him. And so hurt. I’ve never felt a pain this bad. And I hate this woman, whoever she is. Perry has a family. Doesn’t she care about that?”

“I can’t even imagine how upset you are,” said Cissie. “I’m so sorry, Laurie. I wish I could help somehow.”

“Just being here to listen helps.” Laurie’s face was pale. “How I feel doesn’t matter to Perry anymore. He’s already moved on.”

The enormity of the situation hit Cissie hard. She paced before the window, where she could look out and see the boys. “Perry’s a fool, throwing away the best thing that ever happened to him. I wish he were here right now. I’d tell him. I’d”—she looked at the vase of flowers on the table—“I’d dump those right over his head.”

Laurie started to cry again. “
You’re
angry? Imagine how
I
feel.”

Cissie brought her some tissues, and let her get it all out on her shoulder. She wished she had good answers and then decided that right then, answers didn’t matter. Laurie simply needed a good friend.

“Maybe,” Laurie said, “just maybe he’ll realize later that he’s made a mistake. But as of right now, he feels good—if you can believe that—about where he is and what he’s doing.”

“Where is he?”

“At a hotel in Campbell. We haven’t figured out how we’ll tell the boys.”

The boys!

Cissie’s heart ached for them.

They talked for another half hour while Sam and Stephen played outside. And then Laurie insisted that they both get ready for Cissie’s party at the theater.

“Are you sure you want to go?” Cissie was wearing an elegant champagne-colored sheath with a surprisingly low back. She put on some Red Rumbler lipstick for even more dramatic flair. “I totally understand if you want to stay home.”

“No, I want to go.” Laurie shimmied into a pretty green chiffon dress. “If I stop too long to think about what’s happening, I cry. But not for the reasons you might think—like hating this other woman and Perry being a selfish jerk.”

“What reason, then?”

Laurie sighed. “In my heart, a long time ago, I knew we were having problems. We were on autopilot. We stopped talking and stayed busy. But I didn’t have the guts to face what was happening. If I had … maybe it wouldn’t have come to this.”

“Oh, Laurie…”

“I know.”

“All the more reason you’re going to the party,” Cissie insisted. “Who’s babysitting?”

Laurie’s mom couldn’t. Mrs. Donovan would be at the theater event, despite admitting that she didn’t care about the library moving to the strip mall. Cissie was still her daughter’s best friend, and she’d be there to support her.

“My neighbor’s coming over,” Laurie said. “Mom doesn’t know about Perry yet. Only you. I need another day before I can spread the word to the rest of the family.”

At the party, Cissie tried hard to put aside Laurie’s terrible news. For Nana’s sake, she had to try to have fun. Laurie told her the same thing when they went to the theater bathroom to touch up their hair and makeup.

“I was selfish telling you about me right before this started,” Laurie said again.

“Stop.” Cissie eyed her friend in the mirror sternly. The strips of theatrical lighting surrounding their reflections cast their faces in sharp relief, revealing their heavy hearts. “If you hadn’t told me, you wouldn’t be here, and you know it. You would have made up some excuse. This is what friends are for—we lean on each other. You being here tonight—after all you’ve gone through today—is way above and beyond.”

“I’ll take any praise right now. Are you worried about the election?”

“Yes, but—”

“It’s Boone. I can see it in your eyes. Is he causing trouble?”

Cissie sighed. “I think I’m in love with him.”

“Oh, God, no,” said Laurie.

“Is that so bad? Because if it is, tell me. I need to know.”

Laurie shook her head. “You mean apart from the fact that he’s going to move the library, which is the opposite of what you want to happen? How about the fact that he hasn’t shown any signs of settling down? He’s on the football field when he’s not in the mayor’s office. He’ll never be home for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. He dates around. I love the guy. He’s a great coach and a damned fine mayor. I thought you two would be cute together, but I don’t know anymore. You deserve a man who’s going to be there to pay attention to you, to talk to you sometimes about things
you
love. Like books.”