Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
Preston
I felt on top of the world. The senator’s poll numbers were strong and climbing every week. My mood seemed contagious, I think I even caught him laughing at one of Laurel’s jokes in a staff meeting yesterday.
We were experiencing the few weeks of true spring in DC before we rounded the bend into flat-out summer. Longer days for once didn’t mean more time to be at the office, because it took longer to get dark to signal me to go home. Instead, they meant time to walk outside with Jax, eating dinner at outdoor restaurants with Jax, pretending to watch baseball games at Nats Park with Hayden, Charlotte, and Jax, and well, essentially just be with Jax.
Sure, we still had some things to figure out. The three-month deadline we set for our initial fake engagement was looming. We admitted these feelings were real, that they were worth exploring. Did that mean we stayed “engaged” while we dated and hope we decided we wanted to take that leap for real? All great questions that were a perfect problem for future Preston. Current me found myself happier than I could remember being in a long, long time.
Jax and I were enjoying the weather tonight by participating in a Senate vs. House staffers softball league on the National Mall. The New England Senate team had come in second last season, and we were out for blood.
Jax hadn’t been too keen on playing in the first place, wanting to sit with Laurel and heckle while drinking wine out of a Thermos, but I found a way to persuade her. I may not have come into our relationship with much sexual experience, but I now found myself very fluent in reading Jax’s body. A few well-placed orgasms went a long way to convincing her to join the team, though she promised retribution in kind on something in the future. I looked forward to her making her case.
“C’mon, Jax!” I yelled from second base. It was the bottom of the final inning of the first week of games. Two outs, and the score was tied. If Jax could hit me home, we’d win. I never considered myself an overly competitive person, but growing up with four brothers inevitably instilled some competitive urges deep inside you, and something about work league softball brought them out.
Laurel woo-hooed from her spot on the grass behind home plate, waving her Thermos in the air as Jax swung and missed the first pitch. Everyone enjoyed sports in different ways. Jax asked for a time out, stepping back from the plate, and took a few more practice swings.
“You got this baby!” I yelled, really taking it over the top, but my gut was starting to twist. She would take being the final out hard, and she only signed up because of my encouragement.
She stepped back up to the plate, swung hard at the pitch, and sent the ball flying over my head. As soon as she made contact, I took off and made it home before the ball even got back to the infield. Jax stood on first base, jumping up and down while the rest of the team cheered. The Housers looked a bit dejected, but also ready to head out and start drinking.
I took off down the first base line toward Jax, and she met me halfway, jumping into my arms. I spun her around, her arms and legs out in celebration, before I pulled her head down to mine. Forgetting these were our colleagues for a second, we kissed until Laurel’s wolf whistle pierced my consciousness, breaking the moment.
“I think I like softball after all,” Jax said, sliding down my body. She bent down and put the hat back on my head she had knocked off during our enthusiastic celebrations.
“See, I knew you’d have fun.” I wrapped my arm around Jax’s waist and we headed toward Laurel’s blanket to grab our stuff.
“I reserve the right to change my mind as soon as we start losing though. It’s only fun when you’re on top.”
“I think it’s fun when you’re on top too,” I said into her ear in a low voice.
“Dirty talk? Who knew Preston had it in him,” Laurel said, smirking up at me, her hand shading the setting sun. Apparently not a low enough voice.
“Anything left in that Thermos?” I asked, hoping any redness in my face could be chalked up to in-game exertion.
She shook it, the sound of liquid answering the question.
“Gimme,” Jax said, reaching out and taking a big swig, finishing what remained.
“You guys are going out with everyone, right?” Laurel asked, screwing the top back on the Thermos and picking up her blanket to fold. I grabbed the other end to make the job easier.
“Nope,” Jax said. “We have an errand to run.”
“And you didn’t save any wine for me to make it go down easier,” I complained.
“We’re going to buy Preston a new suit tonight, so he has it for his tailoring appointment tomorrow, so it can be ready for his new headshots on Saturday,” Jax explained. “We wouldn’t have to do this tonight if someone had wanted to go shopping any time I suggested it since we made the appointment with the photographer, but he didn’t. So tonight is crunch time.”
“Maybe someone would have wanted to go shopping for suits if someone else didn’t make such a compelling argument to stay home, in bed.” I figured I might as well go for broke since Laurel already caught us.
“Y’all are cute. And gross. But I now feel bad for people who are around when Caitlin and I do this. A real effective emotional tornado you two have whipped up. Time to go drink.” With that, Laurel waved to us over her shoulder and walked off to join the staff from a Maine senator’s office.
“All right, buddy, no more stalling. Off we go.” Jax pushed me to start walking toward the Macy’s located a few blocks from the White House.
“As far as pet names go, not crazy about buddy,” I said, falling into step beside her as we crossed Constitution and headed up 12th Street.
“Yeah, that wasn’t a pet name. That was condescension,” she replied, trying and failing to keep a straight face. We stopped at an intersection, waiting for a walk sign, and I pulled her in close, pressing a kiss to her forehead while she rested her chin on my chest. Once we got our signal, we separated, but I moved to tangle my hand with hers, grinning when I felt her reaching for my hand right back.
“Are you going to be okay, foodwise?” I asked. “I know you didn’t eat much before the game.”
“Yeah.” she nodded. “I had a little something because I knew I could run into a museum if I needed to. I have a protein bar in my bag. I’ll munch on it while you’re modeling for me.”
“Here’s an idea,” I said as we reached the store, the blast of air conditioning feeling good after our walk. “What if you picked out a new dress, too?”
She shot me a confused look. “I don’t need a new dress for anything.”
“What about your book release next month?”
“I mean, I don’t really do much for a book release. Since I don’t associate my face with my pen name, it’s not like I can do a launch event or anything.”
“I know,” I said, gesturing for her to get on the escalator toward the men’s department ahead of me. “But I thought we could go out for a nice dinner or something. You could wear a new dress, we could drink champagne, make a night of it.”
She stepped off the escalator, standing in front of the store map. I would bet she wasn’t actually reading it. “I’ve never celebrated a book release before.”
I stepped up behind her. “I’d be happy to be your first.” She leaned back against me for a moment, in a way I knew showed her appreciation.
“Okay, fine, but only if we find a suit you like in time. I’m not giving up playing dress-up with my very own Preston doll.”
I rolled my eyes. I wore a suit almost every day to work, yes, but I never put much thought into colors or how they fit. As long as they weren’t too tight or too baggy or too khaki, they were fine. Jax wanted me to get a new suit for these headshots. She had visions of them accompanying my campaign announcement. We had plenty of time between now and then, but a photographer friend she knew had an opening this weekend and would do it for cheap, so here we were.
“Okay, so we definitely want to do a navy one—to bring out your eyes.” Jax started rifling through the racks. “A classic black and a nice charcoal will be good options too. You’re sure I can’t talk you into multiple suits and an outfit change for Saturday?”
I stared at her deadpan. “One suit. No changing.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, hoisting up a pile of suits I hadn’t even noticed her picking out.
“How do you know my size?”
Now she stared at me with a lack of amusement. “We sleep in the same bed, buddy. I’m pretty sure that means I’m entitled to go through your closet to get your pants and jacket sizes.” She took off toward the dressing room, calling over her shoulder. “We’ll start with these.”
I supposed I was meant to follow her, so I started moving. “Still not a big fan of the buddy.”
“Noted!”
Twenty minutes later we had a pile of no’s, a few maybes, and one suit left to try on.
“Isn’t this the navy one you picked out first?” I asked from behind the dressing room door.
“Yes, but it was my favorite from the rack, so I wanted it to be last.”
“That’s diabolical. Why couldn’t it have been first and we could have saved a ton of our time and my energy?” I said, opening the door.
“Because, this way, we’ll know it’s really...” her words trailed off as she looked over at me. “Yup, that’s the one. I want to tear it right off you, more so than any of the others.”
I laughed. “Quite a scale you’ve developed there.” I walked to the three-way mirror to check this suit out, and had to agree, the look worked.
I saw her shrug in the reflection. “When it works, it works. What do you think?”
“I think we have a winner. I still wish we would have started with this one, but I won’t question the process anymore.” I looked at my smartwatch. “And we still have time to look at a dress for you.”
Jax met me in front of my changing room. “Or, I could help you get out of that suit. Make sure it stays neat for the tailor tomorrow...”
I leaned in to kiss her, waiting for her eyes to close before pulling back and slamming the door in her face.
“Preston!”
“Nice try, but you’re looking at dresses.”
“Fine,” she said and stomped off to sit down in her chair.
After I changed back into my softball gear, we made our way to the third floor where the dress section was. Jax started to flick through the racks with less enthusiasm than I expected.
“If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. It was just an idea.”
Jax sighed. “No, it’s a really sweet idea. You’re the nicest for thinking of it and wanting to help me celebrate. It’s just... I’ve been thinking for a while, I wish I could claim my books. I don’t write them for any accolades or recognition, but I would love to meet my readers face-to-face at an event or chat with an aspiring author about their dreams.”
“Well, could you? I know you told the senator you’re a romance author, and moving right past the fact you told him before me”—she stuck her tongue out at me—“if there’s any part of you that cares about what I think you should do, I would be proud to support you chasing your dream as Jacqueline Carter.”
She started at the rack in concentration, not saying anything.
“How about this?” I asked softly. “You pick out a dress for a dinner to celebrate this book, just us. If you decide in the future to claim your pen name, you can reuse it for a book signing.”
“You wouldn’t buy me a second dress? Cheapskate,” she said, her face lighter than moments before.
I laughed. “I’ll buy you as many dresses as you, and my political salary, will let me.”
“Hmm. Good point. Does Duncan like buying women dresses?”
“Okay, joke time’s over,” I said, starting to go through the racks myself. I knew she was just kidding, but the thought of anyone else, even my brother, buying this woman a dress raised my blood pressure. “Do I get to pick out things for you to try on this time?”
Jax shook her head. “Nope. I think I have the winner right here.” A flash of blue fabric appeared before she draped it over her arm. “But I think you’ll see you did influence it somewhat.” She took off in search of a dressing room.
“Wait, so you get to just try on one, but I had to try on ten?” I half-yelled, following in her wake.
“Deal with it, buddy!”
Jax had already closed the changing room door by the time I reached the opening to the dressing room. I checked to be sure no one else was in there, not wanting to be the man who lurked in a dressing room uninvited. The door opened and she stepped out, taking my breath away. The dress had a peacock blue solid fabric that came to Jax’s knees, with a low V-neck between her breasts, covered in lace that carried up over her shoulders.
“You like?” she asked, spinning so I could see the back, where the lace carried on, along her shoulders, leaving an open back.
I cleared my throat. “Wow. I love... love it. You look great.”
She smiled shyly at me before turning back to the mirror. “It is a good dress. I hope it finds many uses from my closet over the years.”
I stepped up behind her. “Think you need some help getting that off? That zipper looks hard to reach.” I skimmed my fingers down her bare back.
“Shoppers, please make your final purchase. Macy’s will be closing in ten minutes.” While the announcement distracted me, Jax took the opening to close the door in my face. I groaned as Jax laughed. “Taste of your own medicine.”
I knocked my head against the outer wall of the dressing room. “Hold that thought. We’ll be home soon,” she called, fabric rustling as she changed.
My heart still warmed every time she called the apartment home. Since she’d moved in, the word never felt more right.