Running Mate Read online

  “Does this outline a specific number of events I will appear at as Barrett's fiancée?" I asked as I turned the page on the contract.

  Marshall cleared his throat. "Actually, it is more about your personal appearance, how you'll look along the campaign trail."

  "I'm aware Senator Callahan will be providing my clothes."

  "It's more about how you'll look in the clothes."

  "You have got to be kidding me. You’re that worried about how my ass is going to look in my Donna Karan suit? Shouldn’t you guys be more concerned about Bare keeping his clothes on?"

  Barrett grunted. "Jesus. The naked pictures happened three years ago."

  "I wasn’t talking about the alleged pictures. I was talking more about the fact that you have a reputation for not being able to keep your pants on. I wouldn’t be here if that wasn’t the case."

  Marshall rapped his knuckles on the table to get our attention. "I think you should read the fine print before jumping to conclusions about your attire or Barrett’s, Miss Monroe."

  "Fine." I ducked my head to read the one sentence under the appearance clause. I sucked in a horrified breath. "You want me to dye my hair?" I questioned incredulously. Before Marshall could answer, I turned my wrath on Barrett. “You had them put this in, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know how that would be possible considering I just found out about this deranged plan less than an hour ago.”

  “It reeks of something you would demand,” I muttered.

  "Well, I didn’t.”

  “I can’t believe in the vast scheme of things, Senator Callahan would give two shits about my hair’s hue.”

  “I guess it made sense to him considering I only date blondes."

  "Are you seriously that discriminatory?"

  Barrett shrugged. "I just like blondes."

  “Don’t you think people who know me are going to find it a little suspect when I suddenly show up blonde?”

  “Maybe they’ll think you did it to keep your man happy.”

  Groaning, I swept my hands over my eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t just say that.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Everything.”

  “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

  “Okay, how’s this: it’s sexist and outdated. The very idea that any woman would do something just to make their man happy is ridiculous. Like you couldn’t be happy with me as a brunette.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t see anything wrong with women doing things to please men.”

  “As long as you can back that up with men doing things to please women.”

  A wicked look flashed in Barrett’s eyes. “Of course. I make it my mission to please women—many times.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Spare me.”

  Marshall cleared his throat. “Miss Monroe, perhaps we can find a compromise. Maybe you can merely lighten your hair, rather than completely dyeing it?”

  “Here’s a thought: what if I don’t do anything to my hair and we propagate the idea that Barrett likes me for me and not for my hair?”

  Barrett stroked his chin. “Actually, that could work. It would make sense that as a brunette, Addison is different from the other women I’ve dated.”

  I blinked my eyes as I processed what Barrett had just said. “Did you actually just agree with me?”

  “In a way, yes, but don’t hold your breath waiting for me to do it again.”

  “Trust me, I won’t.”

  “Okay, so I’ll just make an addendum here about the hair,” Marshall said as he scribbled on his paper. As we worked our way through the remainder of the contract, Barrett and I continued to bicker, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the woman who ended up with Barrett as her real husband—that is, if the man-whore player actually ever tied the knot.

  Senator Callahan emerged from the hallway just as we finished signing the contracts. “Everything go okay?”

  Barrett scrubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t see how this is possibly going to work.”

  “Considering you just met, isn’t it a little early to be waving the white flag of defeat?”

  I drew in a deep breath as I tried to thoughtfully weigh my words before I spoke. “With all due respect, sir, I’m afraid what originally looked good on paper might not be feasible in real life.”

  “And I think you just need time to work the kinks out. That’s why the next step is vital to the success of this plan.”

  “What is it?” I asked warily.

  "Trial by fire,” Senator Callahan replied.

  "What is that supposed to mean?" Barrett questioned.

  "It means you spend the next forty-eight hours together here at the Jefferson."

  "What?" I demanded as Barrett bellowed, “Oh hell no!”

  Senator Callahan shook his head. "You two need to bond. We need you to be a cohesive couple to hit the campaign trail on Monday. It is essential that you two have time to get to know each other before you're thrown into the intensity of public scrutiny."

  I wrinkled my nose. "But I can hardly stand being in the same room with him. Surely I can learn more than enough about Barrett simply by googling him."

  With a wink, Barrett countered, "Make sure you click the dick pics. That way you can speak more knowledgeably about how good our sex life would be."

  "You're seriously disgusting."

  He held his hands up. "Fine, maybe you shouldn’t look at them. I'd hate for you to be ruined forever by seeing what you can't have."

  "I'm sure I'll manage just fine."

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Barrett said, "Admit it, you're kinda curious."

  "I know this will be a shocking blow to your overinflated ego, but trust me, I'm not the least bit interested."

  Okay, that was a lie. I was more than a little bit interested since I'd heard he'd been nicknamed the Bear because he was hung like a bear. The three prior lovers I’d had were moderately endowed—growers not showers. I’d never had the pleasure of a well-endowed guy.

  "Your loss."

  “Again, I’m sure I’ll manage just fine.”

  Marshall cleared his throat. “I’m just going to run these into the office to prepare the final versions.” I wasn’t sure if he actually needed to do that or if he just wanted an excuse to get away from us.

  “Thank you, Marshall,” Senator Callahan replied. He then turned his attention back to Barrett and me.

  “Let’s sit down for a moment, shall we?”

  ADDISON

  Although we didn’t argue, Barrett and I did stomp over to the couch like petulant toddlers before sinking down at opposite ends. When he saw what we had done¸ Senator Callahan gave us a disappointed look. Reluctantly, Barrett and I both started easing our way down the couch until we bumped into each other.

  “I’m going to speak as freely as I can with the two of you.” He narrowed his eyes at Barrett. “You have got to start respecting women as more than sex objects, but most importantly, you need to respect Addison. No more talking to her like a jock in a locker room. Be a gentleman by treating her with the respect that is her due.”

  Barrett started to open his mouth to argue, but then he closed it back. “Okay. I’ll try.”

  “Addison, while you have every right to want to throttle Barrett, I need you to internalize that anger. Neither one of you can afford to be volatile when you’re at a rally or fundraiser.”

  “Yes sir.” I was sure I sounded a lot more confident than I felt, but at the same time, I did realize that going off on Barrett wasn’t going to do any good. Unfortunately, he was who he was. I just had to treat this like a job and him as an infuriating coworker I had to deal with.

  “I know I don’t need to remind the two of you what is at stake here. Our country is in a perilous state. My opponents do not have the experience or the wherewithal to meet the needs of the American people like I do. I’ve spent the last thirty years of my life trying to help the people of Virginia. I
’ve done that because it was what I was called to do. When I was fighting my way through the jungles of Vietnam, I promised God that if he got me out of there alive, I would spend the rest of my life trying to make this country a better place and in turn, the world. I know both of you are patriotic and want to see this country be the best it can be. That’s why you have to band together and make this engagement work.”

  After he finished speaking, tears pooled in my eyes. It wasn’t just the words he had said, but also the way he’d delivered them. That combination was the exact reason I’d wanted to come work for his campaign to start with, and once I had the job, it was Senator Callahan’s passion and devotion to the American people that fueled me to do everything within my power to see him elected. In an odd way, being Barrett’s fake fiancée was an extension of that promise—an extension I was also being well compensated for—and I never, ever wanted to fail at a job. I was too much of a perfectionist.

  “So are you two in this?” Senator Callahan prompted.

  Barrett turned to look at me. From his expression, I could see his father’s speech had moved him also. Gone was the cocky smirk and mischievous glint in his eyes; instead, he appeared solemn. “I’m in.”

  “Me too.”

  Senator Callahan bobbed his head. “Good. Now I need to go check with Mary Anne to see if your suite is ready. I’ll be right back.”

  After Senator Callahan left, I was alone with Barrett, and we sat in an uncomfortable silence—although, maybe for the two of us, silence was good. When I stared down at my hands, it suddenly hit me that my left hand was a little naked for a gal who was affianced.

  “What about an engagement ring? Marshall didn’t mention it in the contract.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll get one.”

  “Do I get to pick from a briefcase full of rings like Princess Diana did, or do we see what the claw picks up from the arcade game?”

  Barrett snorted as he shook his head. “Just like with everything else in this fucked up situation, Dad took care of the ring.” He reached into his coat pocket to procure a black velvet box. Without any moving words or declarations of fake love, he tossed the box to me. Considering my lack of athletic ability, I of course promptly fumbled it, and the box dropped to the floor.

  Although I should have been completely offended by the offhanded way he was treating our engagement ring, curiosity got the better of me, and I opened the box. I gasped as I gazed down at the gleaming emerald-cut diamond before me—the mammoth emerald-cut diamond.

  When I finally found my voice, I asked, “Just out of curiosity, how many carats is that?”

  “Five.”

  “And how much would a ring like this cost?”

  “In today’s market, well over a hundred grand.”

  “Holy shit,” I muttered under my breath. I couldn’t begin to imagine what it was going to be like wearing a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of bling on my hand. Then the other part of what Barrett had said registered. “What do you mean ‘in today’s market’?”

  “It’s a vintage ring that belonged to my late maternal grandmother.”

  My gaze snapped up to Barrett’s face. “You mean this is a family heirloom?”

  “Yep.”

  Now I was even more paranoid about something happening to the ring. A whole litany of scenarios where I lost the ring ran through my mind, everything from accidentally knocking it down the drain to flushing it down the toilet. It would be bad enough losing it if it were a new ring with insurance, but you couldn’t replace a family heirloom.

  As I traced the sparkling diamond with my finger, I couldn’t push aside another nagging feeling. “Why would you want to waste something like this on me?”

  Barrett’s forehead crinkled. “I don’t think I follow you.”

  “By giving this ring to me in a fake engagement, it seems to taint it. Wouldn’t you rather wait and use this on a real fiancée one day?”

  “First of all, that’s the ring from my grandmother’s third marriage after her first two husbands died.”

  “Did she outlive the third?” I curiously asked.

  “Actually, no.”

  I stared down at the ring in slight revulsion. “So this ring belonged to your grandmother, the black widow?”

  Barrett chuckled. “She didn’t off them or anything like that. Her first husband died in the influenza outbreak of 1919, and then my grandfather died of cancer. The last husband died at ninety-nine.”

  Okay, that news made me feel slightly better—I hadn’t inherited a ring belonging to a society murderess. Instead, it was from a woman who had endured a lot of heartache when it came to love. I could certainly feel for her on that one. “Even if it was her third wedding ring, wouldn’t you still like to give it to your future real fiancée?”

  “Since I never plan on getting married, that would be a no.”

  “You don’t really mean that.”

  “Yeah, actually, I do.”

  I blinked at him in disbelief a few times. I’d heard about men who were so commitment phobic they remained lifelong bachelors; I’d just never actually met one in real life. Usually the men came from broken or abusive homes, or they had parents who’d married and divorced many times. That certainly wasn’t the case for Barrett. He had two parents who were utterly devoted to each other, so I couldn’t help wondering where his negative feelings came from. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

  With a shrug, Barrett replied, “There’s nothing you can say. It’s just how I feel.”

  “Never is a very strong word. I’ve said I would never drink again after a night of downing tequila-laced Jello shots, but I always do.”

  Barrett laughed. “I think binge drinking and a lifetime commitment are two very different things.”

  “Yes, but the gist of what I was saying is that you could change your mind. Stranger things have happened.”

  “I don’t think so, but don’t worry. Regardless of how I feel about the state of matrimony, I’ll still be able to fulfill my duties to you as a fake fiancé.”

  “How comforting.” As I slid the ring on my finger, I frowned. I didn’t like the way it felt on my finger. While the large diamond was naturally heavy, there was something else about it, like a burden weighing me down.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I murmured.

  “I call bullshit. You seriously have to work on your poker face, Addison.”

  I sighed. “Fine. I was just having one of those annoying girly moments thinking that this wasn’t how I pictured it would be when I got engaged.”

  “Well, that’s because it isn’t the moment you got engaged. It’s the moment you slid a ring on your finger as part of a deal to be a fake fiancée.”

  “Way to cheapen it.”

  “Truth hurts, babe.”

  “Ugh, you don’t seriously use that term with women, do you?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Because you sound like some caveman who climbed out of a glacier.”

  Barrett laughed. “Ah, so you’re one of those feminazis.”

  “No, I’m a feminist.”

  “I’m not sure there’s a difference.”

  “Maybe not in your misogynistic eyes.”

  With a shake of his head, Barrett mused, “The next few months sure are going to be fun.”

  I opened my mouth to say something I probably shouldn’t have but was interrupted by a petite middle-aged woman teetering into the living room on impossibly high heels.

  “Addison, this is Mary Anne Thompson. She’s my father’s personal assistant,” Barrett said in introduction.

  I extended my hand. “It’s nice to meet you. At my previous job, I was the personal assistant to a representative.”

  “Ah, so you know how tortuous a task it is to wrangle political men,” she said with a smile.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Barrett chuckled behind me. “You know you love every minute you have with us Callahan men.”


  She winked at him. “Some days are better than others.”

  “Whatever,” Barrett replied good-naturedly.

  Mary Anne opened the folder in her hands. “First of all, I want to show you where you’ll be staying for the weekend.”

  “We won’t be staying here in the penthouse?” I asked.

  “With all the craziness leading up to Super Tuesday, we’ve arranged a much more private suite for the two of you to use to get to know each other.”

  “Great,” I muttered. The farther I was from the penthouse and the calming presence of

  Senator Callahan, the less likely it was that I’d be able to control my temper.

  With a flick of her wrist, Mary Anne started for the elevator, and Barrett and I fell in step behind her. After she tapped the button for the twenty-ninth floor, I exhaled a relieved breath. We were only one floor below the penthouse. The doors opened, and we trailed behind Mary Anne as she walked purposely down the long, carpeted hallway.

  She came to a stop outside a door that read Presidential Suite. Throwing a grin over her shoulder, she said, “I couldn’t help myself when I was booking this one, like in a weird way the fact that it was available on short notice was some sort of sign.”

  I laughed while Barrett only grunted. Just as Mary Anne started to use the key card to open the door, her phone rang. I didn’t have to guess who was calling since “Hail to the Chief” echoed through the hallway. Mary Anne really was thinking positively about the election results.

  With a grimace, she handed me the key card. “Go ahead and go inside. I need to take this.”

  As she stepped down the hallway for some privacy, I opened the door for us, and Barrett followed me inside. Once again, opulence surrounded me. While I took everything in with wide eyes, Barrett brushed past me. With barely a fleeting glance at the spacious living room and dining area, he threw open the double doors leading into the bedroom.

  Since Mary Anne was still on the phone, I followed Barrett. When I eyed the giant king-sized, canopied bed, anxiety pricked its way over my skin. I wasn’t sure if my uneasiness came from the fact that I was worried about Barrett trying to put moves on me or if there was a part of me—a very small and annoying part—that might have wanted him to. In a weird way, he was like one of the sexual wonders of the world. You couldn’t help being curious or wanting to mark it off your bucket list.