Nineteen #2
Rebecca rests a gentle hand on her forearm. “Now, where are you from, Charlie?”
She feels the full weight of her attention, this woman who is so well known for boldly speaking her mind in Congress.
“I grew up in Indiana,” Charlie replies.
“And your parents? What do they do?”
Charlie’s stomach twists at the mention of her parents; she still hasn’t answered her mother’s text from last week. “My mother is a receptionist for her church, and my dad manages a bank.”
Wes’s father returns to his own discussion while Charlie fights to remain confident and collected.
“And you want to go into law! Which law school do you hope to attend?”
“Mom, Charlie didn’t sign up for a congressional hearing,” Wes says, his tone light.
Rebecca smiles affectionately at her son before winking. “I’m just trying to get to know—”
“Is Senator Masterson here?” Wes interjects. “I’d like to introduce her to Charlie.”
Rebecca points to a middle-aged Black woman a few feet away. “Go on.” She clasps Charlie’s hand once more. “It was lovely meeting you, Charlie. I hope to see you again soon.”
Leading her away, Wes leans close to her ear and whispers, “You survived. Congratulations.”
“Your mother is lovely,” she replies. “Much less intimidating than she is on television.”
Wes’s eyes dance with amusement. “Why didn’t you say so? I would have loved to see her reaction.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Ready to meet your Maryland senator?” He tips his head toward the woman Rebecca pointed out.
Charlie hesitates. “I don’t want to bother her—”
“Charlie.” Wes leans close again, and the scent of sandalwood fills her senses.
“Politicians work for you. They need to be aware of what’s happening in their state and to the people they represent, like the situation with The Wild Rue.
” He raises his brows. “And if they don’t do their job, you fire them by voting. ”
With Wes so close, she can’t help glancing at his mouth before nodding.
He straightens. “Remember, you’re intelligent and beautiful, and you know exactly what you’re talking about.”
They approach the senator, Wes’s words of encouragement shooting a palpable electric thrill through Charlie’s veins.
Forty-five minutes later, Senator Masterson’s contact information joins Betsy’s in Charlie’s clutch. She seems genuine in her concern about the clinic’s imminent closure, and Charlie leaves the conversation buoyed with optimism.
“Want to get some air?” Wes asks after she finishes shaking the senator’s hand.
Charlie nods, exhilarated yet overwhelmed by the interaction. Her hands tremble.
Clasping her hand in his, Wes expertly weaves through the crowd, nodding to guests and murmuring soft hellos and good evenings. Most people recognize him, of course—Senator Quinn’s handsome son.
Charlie pastes on a smile, hypersensitive to his fingers wrapped around hers.
Outside the room, Wes leads her down a dimly lit hallway lined with closed doors, each one decorated with a red bow.
At the very end, he pushes open a door to a small garden with Christmas lights strung through the trees and bushes.
Steps lead to a stone path ending at a small gazebo and a bench illuminated with yellow lights set in the ground.
The voices and music quiet when the door closes behind them, and the air is crisp and refreshing on Charlie’s overheated skin. Her breath clouds in front of her.
“That was incredible.” She looks over to where he leans against a wall, an unreadable expression on his face. “Thank you. I’ll admit coming tonight wasn’t a complete waste of time.”
He smiles, his face half in shadow. “I didn’t think it would be. If anything, you get to spend an enjoyable evening with me.”
She laughs, surprising herself. “You’re so full of yourself.”
He shrugs, shoving off the wall and stepping toward her. “I have no reason not to be.”
If someone had told her a month ago she’d spend an evening enjoying herself with Wesley Quinn and speaking to comedians and politicians, she would have laughed in their face and told them to kindly fuck off.
Standing a few inches away, he pulls on one of her curls. “You wore your hair down.” He wraps a lock around his finger.
She swallows. “Yes.”
“You don’t wear it like this that much anymore.”
“It’s…” She pauses, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu coming over her, making her light-headed. “Unmanageable.”
Inherited from her mother, her thick, dark curls have always been a source of frustration for her. Often when she was younger, she desired straighter hair. Usually she keeps it contained in a tight bun or a ponytail, but tonight she had the impulse to let it free.
His mouth curves up, his eyes dark. “I told you before it’s gorgeous.”
Charlie’s skin prickles, her body buzzing with nerves and heat. She shifts out of reach, and her hair falls from his fingers. “Stop looking at me like that.”
His eyes widen briefly before he steps closer, one palm coming to rest on either side of her shoulders, caging her in. She again smells his aftershave, and it makes her want to lean closer and drag her nose down his neck. Instead, she lifts her chin, waiting for him to make the next move.
His lips brush the shell of her ear. “How am I looking at you?”
“It’s…you…” She exhales, closing her eyes to avoid looking at that clever, wonderful mouth. He shakes with silent laughter. “It’s distracting.”
When his hand comes to her hip, she jumps. “I can think of a better way to serve as a distraction.”
His lips graze her pulse point.
Charlie gasps. “Wes.”
His mouth caresses her skin, and she shivers at the barely there touch that feels scorching.
“What’s your next experiment, Rogers?”
He knows what it is, and she knows he knows by the amusement dripping from his words. The hand on her waist begins sliding down her hip, his fingers slowly dragging up the hem of her skirt.
“We can’t—” She gasps when he sucks on her clavicle. “We can’t experiment every time you think I need a distraction. Someone will see us.”