Page 18 of Kissing for Keeps
If there’s anything I’ve learned in politics, it’s that strategy is key. Jack and I aren’t running against each other for office—in fact, we’re going to be working together—but any campaign manager worth her salt is aware of her candidate’s weaknesses. And, much as I hate to admit it, I have a history of getting tangled up with guys who arejust having a good time.
My strategies, I decide, will be two-fold: first, keep busy with the spreadsheet tasks. That’s why I’m here—for Madi—and that’s why Jack’s here, too.
Second, don’t let Jack get away with anything. A good candidate doesn’t let her opponent get away with cheap shots. I’ll give as good as I get, so if Jack teases me, well… two can play that game.
My eyes are slipping closed, and my body is begging for me to move into a sleeping position by the time Jack rouses. He tips his neck from side to side and sits up straight, cringing.
“My turn,” I murmur as I set my pillow on his lap.
His laugh is swallowed by a yawn. “Fair enough.”
7
JACK
“You are insane,”Siena says.
My hands grip the wheel. “I would be insanenotto. I can’t come to France andnotsee Paris.”
“Eyes on the road, mister. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
Up ahead, above the lines of cars in front of us, the top of the Arc de Triomphe comes into view. “We’re about to spend two weeks working like dogs. Don’t you think that earns us a quick, romantic drive around Paris?” I wag my eyebrows. I’m not really in the loop on Siena’s love life, but I managed to subtly pry the information from Mom that she’s not dating anyone as of a few weeks ago. I’m not sure if Siena kicked the guy to the curb or the other way around, but I’m glad I don’t have to feel guilty for provoking her a little.
“Yeah,” she says, “because what’s more romantic than getting into a car crash in a foreign country?”
“Oh, ye of little faith! Watch and learn.”
She shakes her head. “If we get into an accident and Madi’s stuff is ruined, I will throw you under the bus faster than Regina George.”
I frown. “Didn’t she get hit? Wasn’t really thrown under.”
“What are you, theMean Girlsplot police? I will drive the bus into you myself, then. Happy now?”
I shrug. “It’s just not the best metaphor.” Siena’s sitting forward in her seat, looking ahead like she doesn’t trust my driving for a second. “I thought you were the adventurous one between you and Madi.”
“I am,” she snaps. “Butsomeonehas to be the responsible adult in this situation.”
“Being responsible and enjoying life aren’t mutually exclusive, you know. Live a little. I promise I won’t let us get hurt.” The Arc de Triomphe looms large while the lanes of cars pour into the biggest traffic circle I’ve seen in my life. “Here we go!” There are no real lanes, just utter chaos, filling me with adrenaline as I merge into the roundabout amidst honking and the instructions of Siena’s phone GPS.
We find ourselves in the middle of it all, and there’s no way for me to exit when the GPS tells me to—not if I want to keep my promise to Siena and keep us safe. Instead, I take us around again, hoping for better luck and more merciful drivers this time.
No such luck. Not on the third go, either. This is the wild, wild west of Europe, and it’s every car for itself.
“So,” Siena says conversationally, “I actually have a wedding I have to attend in a couple of weeks. Any chance we can get out of this roundabout by then?”
I chuckle, check my blind spot and rearview mirror, then stomp on the gas pedal.
“Jack!” Siena shouts as she lurches back. She’s being dramatic. This van we’re driving doesnotpack the punch I had been hoping for. It was the only option if we wanted to fit these suitcases, though.
Despite the van’s subpar acceleration abilities, I pull ahead of the car next to me and make my way toward the outer rim of the circle. All of this is accomplished amidst Siena’s sound effects, more honking, and, eventually, laughter from both of us as I realize that, despite my more aggressive driving, I’m going to have to do afourthround.
I finally exit the circle as a man driving much more aggressively than I am rolls down his window and shouts what I’m assuming are French expletives.
“See?” I say to Siena as I send him a friendly wave. “Safe and sound.”
“And with more chances to see the Arc de Triomphe than anybody could ever ask for,” she replies in a voice that’s breathy from reluctant laughter.
I glance at her, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the smile on her face. “I aim to please.”
