Page 58 of Tate
He’d traced his finger up her arm and told her that maybe they had a future after the campaign. After her mother made him press secretary in the new White House administration. She’d love DC, by the way. His favorite bagel place was only two blocks from the Capitol.
Yeah, she had a Sloan problem. Or maybe not a problem, because Sloan was everything a girl could want, really. Smart, wickedly handsome, and he nearly worshiped her.
But every time the man took her in his arms, every time he tried to kiss her, all she could remember was the amazing kiss with Tate, the way he had set her entire body on fire.
No one had kissed her, ever, like Tate Marshall. Like she might be a drink of water to a parched man. Needing her.
She couldn’t bear the thought of kissing anyone else.
Eventually, she’d left Sloan alone under the Milky Way and headed home.
Felt the smallest—okay, a pretty large—twinge of disappointment at the empty deck chair.
She swallowed away the memory of Tate’s lips on hers and grabbed her iPad, a towel, and her sunglasses. She had a slew of emails to answer.
Her father was in the kitchen, sitting on a bar stool, eating a half grapefruit, drinking coffee, and reading something on his iPad, his reading glasses low on his nose. “There’s my Glo-light.”
“Hey, Dad.” She opened the fridge and grabbed a yogurt. Then poured a cup of coffee and sat on a stool next to him.
“Nice picture of you.” He flashed her his iPad. Kelsey stood in the middle, a cowboy hat pulled down over her eyes. Glo stood on the left, a painted rose tattoo down the arm that held her Dobro, dressed all in black.
Dixie flanked them on the other side, wearing a short, sequined dress, her legs about a mile long, her blonde hair down, her violin propped against her shoulder.
“It’s a few weeks old from when the nominations were announced. Carter sent it out.”
“Are you going to the CMGs?”
“Of course. It’s a huge honor even to be nominated.” She opened her yogurt.
“Are you taking Sloan?”
She set the cover on the counter, picked up her spoon. “I…I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”
“You get to bring someone, right?”
She hadn’t gotten that far.
Or, rather, yes she had. She pictured Tate beside her. As her bodyguard, maybe, but still.
Tate was the Belles’ bodyguard. He deserved to participate in the fun.
“You and Sloan are spending a lot of time together.”
“Mmmhmm.” She took a bite of her yogurt.
“Reminds me a little of your mother and me, back in the day. She had political aspirations…I just went along for the wild ride.”
“I don’t think Sloan has political aspirations.”
Her dad took off his glasses. “You can’t be serious.”
She took a sip of coffee. “Okay. Yes. He wants to be a speechwriter, but run for office?”
“He’s an idealist, like your mother. They see a world that is fairer, kinder, and safer.”
“So do I.”
“They want to do something about it.”
