Chapter 26
Hayes
I tapped on Catherine’s door and shook off the weariness from the day of travel. “Cath. I’m home.”
There was no answer. I knocked again. “Catherine.”
Nothing.
“Mrs. Wilder,” I called out, teasing her.
Still no answer, so I went for broke. “Catie.”
The door swung open and Catherine braced her hands on the doorframe. Her hair was up in rollers, she had on a full face of makeup, and she was wearing sweatpants and a zip-up jacket.
She let out a huff that blew a loose strand of hair away from her eyes. “I can’t find my crown.”
My brows rose. “Hello to you too.”
Catherine spun and went back to digging through her closet. “I’m sorry. I have to be out the door in ten minutes, and I can’t find the flipping crown. How was the trip back?”
“Lots of traffic,” I said as I started looking too.
“That’s NoVA for you,” she grumbled as she pawed around.
“I don’t miss it.”
“That’s surprising.”
“I missed you,” I admitted as I searched the shelves above her head. “It was weird being back at my place.”
Since the conference had started Thursday and stretched late into Saturday night, I had stayed at my place in Bethesda. Everything was just as I had left it, but the bed felt too big. The kitchen was too cold. The tree-lined street had nothing on the lane that led in and out of the estate.
Most of all, I missed her.
That, of course, had led to the two of us texting almost nonstop. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but it was. Catherine and I didn’t have to keep up the ruse when Lewis wasn’t watching our every move.
But I wanted to keep talking to her.
The notion took me back to the early days on the estate when I had first lost my parents. During the nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d tiptoe out of my bedroom and sneak downstairs, only to find my grandparents curled up on the couch, talking into the wee hours of the night.
I had never found someone I wanted to talk to endlessly.
Well, until her.
Catherine’s hands stilled on a bin. “I missed you too.”
“Hallie told me you kicked ass hosting the owners’ luncheon,” I said as I combed through a shelf of mostly shoes. “Thank you for doing that.”
“Of course. Part of the job,” she clipped as she yanked a square box out of a bin of socks.
“Found it.” Catherine let out a sigh of relief, hurried out of the closet, dropped the crown box onto the bathroom vanity, and started pulling the rollers out of her hair.
I stood behind her and helped, unclipping the rollers and gently unfurling them until her hair lay in smooth curls.
“You look beautiful. I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get to see you dressed up as Miss Virginia until your last day.”
Catherine laughed as she teased and sprayed her hair. “I’m not getting dressed until I get to Roanoke. Driving in a gown is not fun.”
“I can reschedule my meeting today and go with you.”
“Don’t,” Catherine said gently. “Tonight isn’t about me. I’m just popping up at the end to crown the new Miss Virginia.”
For me, every day was about her, and I didn’t mind that in the slightest. I wanted everything to be about her.
I also knew I couldn’t reschedule my meeting.
Her jacket was unzipped enough for me to pull the collar aside and drop a kiss to her shoulder. “You are incomparably beautiful.”
“Can we catch up tomorrow? Maybe go riding or something?” she asked. “It’ll be really late when I get back tonight, but I made so much progress on the Learning Cottage while you were gone, and I want to tell you about it.”
I kissed her temple. “I’ll clear my schedule.”
She beamed. Catherine reached for the box and popped the latch. Her crown was nestled inside on a satin cushion. “I just need to make sure it sits right on my hair. Sometimes the curls don’t want to cooperate.”
I watched as she carefully positioned it on her head and started to fiddle with the curls. The crown slipped, tilting to the side, but I was faster.
Catherine’s eyes met mine in the mirror as I straightened her crown. “Thank you,” she said softly.
I dropped a kiss to the back of her head. “Anytime.”
Catherine reached for the jewelry dish that kept her rings safe while she was getting ready.
“Let me,” I said, beating her to it. I plucked her wedding band and engagement ring out of the dish and took her hand, sliding them onto her finger one by one. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it. “Give ’em hell, Mrs. Wilder.”
I carried Catherine’s high heels and the garment bag that held her sleek black gown down to the Mustang, laid them on the passenger seat, then raised the convertible top so her hair didn’t get messed up in the wind.
Catherine held the crown box and shouldered a bag of cosmetic reinforcements. “I’m sorry we only get to see each other in passing this week,” she said. A lighthearted laugh slipped free. “I guess that’s what this was actually supposed to be like.”
Since she packed a backup cosmetics bag, I didn’t feel the slightest bit bad about wrecking her lipstick.
I pinned Catherine to the side of the car and kissed her hard enough to make up for all the kisses I had missed while I was gone.
“I’m glad it’s not what it was supposed to be,” I said when I broke away for a necessary breath.
Her cheeks matched the candy-apple-red body of the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I shook my head and dipped in for another kiss. “Wake me up when you get back. I want to hear how it went.”
Catherine smoothed her palms down my chest and nodded. “Okay.”
I held the door open as she slid in and cranked up the engine. “Drive safe, Mrs. Wilder.”
She revved the engine, just to give me a heart attack, and grinned.
I watched as her taillights disappeared down the lane before heading back inside.
It wouldn’t be long until my guest arrived for our meeting.
In the days leading up to me leaving for DC, Catherine had told me she would be away from the estate for the day for the Miss Virginia competition.
It was finally time to give dear old Dad a call.
I never asked Hallie to do things like answer the door, but today I needed to play the part of Mr. Wilder.
“Governor Grant, thank you so much for coming to the estate today,” Hallie said, laying it on thick as she greeted Catherine’s father at the door. “Mr. Wilder is in his study. Can I get you something to drink?”
I listened to the rhythm of their footsteps as they peeled out of the foyer and rounded into the formal living room.
I made myself look busy, all while wondering if Granddad still had a bottle of moonshine hidden in the ficus by the window.
The heavy footsteps stopped just outside the French doors, and Hallie’s much softer ones disappeared.
“Working on a Sunday?” Governor Grant said as he let himself in. “I have to say, I was a little surprised to get your invitation. My apologies for not being able to make it to your wedding.”
I didn’t bother getting the door for him, I didn’t stand as he entered, and I certainly wasn’t going to accept his bullshit apology for standing up his daughter on her wedding day. The forgiveness ship had sailed. I wasn’t his son-in-law today.
This was a power play.
“Sunday for us is Monday in Asia and Australia,” I said as I finished scrolling through the pictures of Catherine and me that I had on my laptop.
“And since China, South Korea, and Japan rely on American ranchers for their beef supply to the tune of billions, I take a particular interest in making sure our cowboys are taken care of, and food is available for families all over the world.”
“How noble,” Governor Grant said as he took a seat across the desk from me without being invited to do so.
“But I’m sure you’re aware of how globalized our food chain and agricultural supply chain are,” I said with an easy smile as I closed my laptop and clasped my hands on top of the desk.
“We export seven billion in wheat. The state of Kansas alone does a fifth of that. Last year we did fourteen billion dollars in corn exports. That might not sound like a lot, but it’s a lot to the farmers who grow the forty-two million metric tons of it. ”
The governor’s eyebrows lifted.
“That’s over twenty-two hundred football fields filled with corn, which sounds like a lot, but it’s really not that much when you come to realize that what we export is only about ten or twenty percent of all the corn that’s grown here.”
The governor smiled a smarmy politician’s grin. “Pardon me for being so blunt, but it seems like your talents are wasted in the private sector. Ever given thought to getting into public service?”
I chuckled. “I have no desire to be in the public eye.” I rolled Granddad’s gilded pen between my fingers.
“I prefer to serve the public to keep food on tables by working outside of ever-changing administrations with personal agendas.” I shot him a grin.
“I’ll leave the existential issues to folks like you. ”
“The existential issues are just as important,” he countered. “Healthcare. Education. Foreign affairs and diplomacy. Can’t keep food on the table if those aren’t prioritized as well.”
“I agree,” I said as I tapped the pen on the top of Granddad’s executive desk. “I’m certainly not as apolitical as my granddad was.”
“Your grandfather was a good man,” Governor Grant said. “He was a man of conviction. No matter how much I tried to convince him to donate to campaigns or parcel this land so we could bring jobs to this part of the state and boost the economy, he was insistent that it remain undeveloped.”
I chuckled. “But your focus isn’t on Virginia’s economy. At least not after your term is up.”
Governor Grant raised an eyebrow. “Who’s to say I’m not going to run for a second term? Nonconsecutive, of course.”
“You’re forgetting that, while I’m not a politician, I do have friends in high places, Maxwell.” It was the drop of his first name that turned the tables. “I’ve heard the conversations that include your name. I’ve been part of some of those conversations.”
His body language shifted to interest as he leaned forward. “Do tell.”
I leaned back in my seat. “Desperation isn’t a good look for a future vice president.”
He smirked. “There may be conversations happening, yes. But who’s to say for sure until the candidates are solidified after the national convention?”
“You and I both know that presidential candidates are groomed long before their names ever reach the court of public opinion.”
“I’d love your public endorsement, if that’s what you’re offering,” he said.
“I haven’t offered anything. Yet.” I spun the small photo of Catherine and me on our wedding day that I had framed. “But I could be convinced.”
He swallowed thickly as he eyed the photo.
“Convince me, Maxwell,” I said, subtly taunting him with a growing smile.
“Tell me why I should whisper your name in those rooms that I get to enter that you can’t.
Tell me why I should write a very big check to whoever you’re campaigning with.
I’m hearing rumors of it being that senator from New Hampshire.
I think you two would make a good pair. If she’s leading the ticket, I’d be inclined to add an extra zero to the end of the check. ”
“I care about what you care about,” he said.
I grinned. “Tell me more.”
“You care about your farmers? I’ll put pressure on my administration to raise import taxes. Homegrown only.”
He was an idiot if he thought that would help. Then again, I never thought Governor Grant was smart. But it was the fact that he called it his administration that told me I had him hooked. Ego was an effective lure.
“Is that what you think I care about?”
“You have that cowboy mentality about you. That thousand-yard stare to do whatever it takes to protect your own. Tell me what else I should care about, then. Land grants? Easy. Changes to SBA loan requirements? I can make that happen. Whatever you want. It’s yours.
” He grinned. “For the right price, of course.”
“Now, that’s what I like to hear.” I pulled open the desk drawer and retrieved a file. “I was in DC this week and heard your name come up in quite a lot of rooms.” I flipped the folder open and turned it to face him. “Unfortunately for you, they weren’t the kinds of rooms you would be welcome in.”
His face bleached as he scanned the first affidavit, immediately recognizing the name on it.
“The only thing you got right about me is that I do have that cowboy mentality.”
“Hayes—”
“That’s Mr. Wilder to you,” I snapped. “You hurt my wife, and I take personal offense to that. The fact that her mother kept quiet about what you did in order to protect Catherine and herself is noble, but it let you off far too easy. So I spent my downtime in DC asking around about you. After all, I had a hunch that Ms. Foster wasn’t the only woman you coerced and silenced over the years.
” I thumbed through the rest of the sworn statements.
“I found fifteen women willing to speak up. And those were just the ones still in DC. How many more am I going to find when I start digging around Richmond?”
His face had gone from white to red to blue. It was a rather patriotic look on him. “What do you want, Wilder?” he seethed. “Are you blackmailing me? I already told you I’d do whatever it takes to get you on my side. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
I chuckled. “I’m not into blackmail. It’s not as effective as people are led to believe.”
Like a fool, Governor Grant exhaled and let down his guard. “Then what’s this about?” he spat. “Those relationships were consensual. Having a piece of ass on the side isn’t a crime.”
“Coercion isn’t consent, Maxwell. I don’t give a shit what your wife thinks.
I give a shit what my wife thinks. And if she thinks that you should fade into a life of obscurity rather than being on a national ballot, then I will make it happen even if I think it’s far too kind.
” I handed him the file of affidavits. “You can have this. It’s already been given to the necessary power holders and quite a few hungry media outlets, though I did ask that they hold the story until I finished having this conversation.
” I checked my watch. “Which is right about now.” I opened my laptop browser to the first news station I had sent the story to and smiled at seeing it splashed across the front page.
I turned the screen to face him. “That’s a great photo of you, by the way. ”
“You—You!”
“Yes, I did,” I clipped. “You can stop with the theatrics. Oh, and you’re being recorded.
Audio and video. Virginia’s a single-party consent state, but since I’m all about mutual consent, I had a sign posted by the front door when you walked in, notifying visitors that they were being recorded.
Or did you not see that when Hallie escorted you back?
I’m sure the national convention is going to love to know that their golden boy is willing to sell political favors.
” I tapped the frame that held my favorite wedding photo where Catherine made a breathtaking bride. “Smile for the camera.”