Page 140 of Tate
“You picked the right one.” He winked.
Yes, yes, she did. And he’d been standing right in front of her. The wind had stirred the scent of his aftershave, and he wore a hint of a five-o’clock shadow, his chest pulling at the buttons on his shirt, and she’d just wanted to step close, run her hands over those amazing shoulders, feel his arms close around her.
Lower her lips to his and taste that amazing smile.
Oh, she wanted more than right now.
What was she thinking—she wanted forever.
And she almost took it, right then. Except for Ford, who’d taken a breath, backed away as if reminding himself of the last time they’d had this moment.
“Good luck tomorrow, Red. I’m rooting for you.” He took a step off the porch.
And what was she supposed to do, leap into his arms?
Maybe. Instead, she’d nodded. “Thanks.” And watched him walk away.
Not today. Today she was invincible again.
She hiked up the beach to her car, the sand warming her bare feet, and unlocked her door, dropped her gear in her trunk. Then she got into the hot front seat, leaving the door open as she retrieved her phone from the glove box.
She pulled up her messages to text Ford, sending him a quickI passed,and was about to follow up with her invitation when she spotted the voicemail. Unknown number, a 801 area code, the same as her mother’s from her days in Salt Lake City.
She opened the app and listened.
“This is State Trooper Troy Smith. I’m leaving a message for Scarlett Hathaway. Please call me as soon as possible…” He left his number, and she took a breath and dialed it.
He answered on the second ring and she identified herself.
He paused. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but there’s been an accident…”
Scarlett leaned her head on her hand and listened to her future explode.
If someone wanted to take a shot at Glo, it would be tonight, right here in the middle of the San Diego Convention Center, as she took center stage after her mother accepted the vice presidential nomination.
Which was the only reason Tate agreed to go out onstage with her. Sure, the place was jammed with security, including their own force of Navy SEALs who’d agreed to step in for the evening—thank you, Ford. They mingled, plainclothed in the audience, their eyes peeled for trouble.
But Tate wasn’t taking any chances. He had no plans to leave Glo’s side.
Ever.
“You look nice,” Glo said as she turned to him, smoothing down his lapels.
“I still can’t understand why you wanted me in cowboy boots and my hat. I look like…”
“Calm down, Rango. You look like a hero.”
He cocked his head, gave her a look, and she pulled off his Stetson and set it on her head, grinning up at him.
“Now that looks better. And, I like this.” He touched the daisy she’d temporarily inked on her shoulder. She wore a white, off-the-shoulder lace dress that showed off her tan, and a pair of boots. “And this.” He pointed to the Dobro, the instrument twined behind her. “Got a little something planned for the campaign?”
“Just tonight. Tomorrow, we’re back on the NBR-X tour.”
He could admit to some surprise today when Knox and Kelsey had shown up at the Hyatt, where Glo and the campaign team had relocated after yesterday’s horror. Tate was stillbunking on Ford’s sofa but had risen early to take Glo to breakfast.
To lay down the ground rules.
He would be her security detail on the campaign trail. No questions, no argument, and especially no firing.
