Reunited with the Rancher
Autore
Anna Grace
Letto da
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Capitoli
17
CHAPTER ONE
SHE WORE DESIGNER SUNGLASSES, gazillion-dollar jeans, and she held a long-bodied, short-legged dog wearing a hand-crocheted bonnet to make it look like a frog.
Whit would have recognized Piper Wallace anywhere.
She clipped across the parking lot of Eighty Local with the same speed and sense of purpose she’d had moving across the central quad at Oregon State University.
It wasn’t exactly a surprise to see her. Whit had been working with her brother Ash for over a year now as part of the Central Oregon Ranching Federation. The Wallaces were key supporters in Whit’s bid for county commissioner. But Piper’s name rarely came up, and only when Ash or another member of the family was relating a funny story about the city-girl sister. Piper’s brothers had no idea how central she’d been to his college experience. Their relationship had balanced on a knife’s edge between friends and enemies, with the handle of that knife firmly in Piper’s grasp.
And now she was headed straight for him.
What do you say when your college nemesis is charging across a gravel parking lot, in all likelihood heading to the same place you are? Did she even remember him, or that they’d been rivals on the debate team? He’d have to say hello at some point. It would be weird not to.
Piper stopped abruptly.
“Whitman Benton.”
Her tone hadn’t changed since college, either. She still managed to say his name in a way that felt like a cross between an accusation and a greeting.
He pulled his Stetson off and nodded. “Piper Wallace.”
She readjusted the dog in her arms and glanced over her shoulder toward Main Street. “Thoughts on the emu mural?”
“I’m sorry?”
“There’s a twenty-foot mural of Larry the emu squawking ‘Welcome to Outcrop!’ on the old press building, right as you pull into town.”
“Yeah, I saw that—”
“So. I’m asking for your thoughts. Emu greeting, yea or nay?”
Whit stared at Piper. She’d always been beautiful, but had somehow grown more fully into her beauty. Her clothing was classic with a stylish edge. She’d cut her hair, the shiny brown and blond strands now barely skimming her shoulders. With age, her confident stance looked less defensive, more natural.
He finally shook his head. “Piper, it’s been seven years since we’ve seen each other. The first thing we’re going to discuss is an emu mural?”
She had shades on, but he knew she was rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry. What did you want to talk about?”
Whit gave an incredulous laugh. “Uh...nothing in particular. Normally, when you see someone from the past you say, ‘Hello, how’s it been, what are you up to these days?’”
“Oh, I was supposed to acknowledge the passing of time?” Piper shifted the dog again and held out a hand. Whit shook it and was immediately transported back to facing off against her before a debate, the same grin suggesting he had no idea what he was in for.
“Hi, Whit. Seven years, huh? Wow, time flies.” She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, exposing wickedly sharp brown eyes. “Did you see that emu mural?”
He glanced up at the bright blue sky, then back at his college hate-crush. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”
She blinked at him, shocked. “Why would I change?”
Whit laughed, holding up both hands. “Okay, Piper. You win. I like the emu.”
“Me too!” she said. “I wasn’t sure at first. I’m very particular about public art, but I kind of love it.”
Whit took a deep breath. Conversation with Piper could feel a little like bull riding; you had to just hang on for as long as you could.
“Did the new mural bring you here?” he asked. “Or are you on other business?”
“My family has a thing.” She gestured at the events center behind Eighty Local, confirming his fears. The meeting he was heading into was stressful enough already. His campaign manager, Dan, and a very few select supporters were assembled to work out the mess he’d gotten himself into.
Was Piper the last person on earth he would have invited to this meeting? Maybe. No, his sister Jana would be worse. Piper was only the second to last person on earth he wanted here. And she was still talking about the emu.
“—but no one told me about the mural. I was driving into town and nearly hit a mule deer, I was so shocked. Larry’s my nephew.”
She continued her march toward Eighty Local, and now Whit was scrambling to keep up with her physically and conversationally. The whole situation felt like a surreal flashback to college, where she’d always been two steps ahead of him and slightly out of reach.
“That emu is your nephew?”
“Right. You remember my sister, Clara?”
Clara was the sweeter, more empathetic of the twins, the one most of the guys fell for. “Of course.”
“Well, she married Jet Broughman. And he has all these emus, so they’re like my nieces and nephews. But I just count Larry because he’s the only one whose name I know. Ergo, my emu nephew. Do you have nieces and nephews? Or emus?”
Whit’s eyebrow twitched. He rubbed the tense muscle with two fingers. If your family’s painful rift keeps you from ever meeting your niece and nephew, do you actually have them?
“I’m not related to anything with feathers.” Before she could speak again, he pointed to the improbably shaped dog. “Is this your only child?”
She laughed, then raised her brows, as though impressed that he’d made a joke. “Sadly, I’m dogless.” She leaned down and brushed the dog’s nose with her own, then spoke in something between a baby and a Muppet voice. “I’m just babysitting the good pupper for the summer.”
The good pupper soaked up her words, then glared at him over her arms.
“I hear you’re in Portland now,” Whit said, wrestling things back to something approximating normal. He was a champion debater in college; he knew how to take the reins in a conversation.
“Yes. Best city ever. I couldn’t love it more.”
“What do you do there?”
“I’m a matchmaker. Clara and I started Love, Oregon out of college.”
“A matchmaker? That’s—” dangerous “—unusual. How’s business?”
“Brisk. We knew there was a need, in this busy age of cell phones and social anxiety. But we had no idea how it was going to take off. We run a boutique service. We don’t just set people up, we get them ready for a relationship and provide the tools they’ll need to succeed.”
“That’s cool—”
“Are you single?”
Whit sputtered as all of his organs seemed to flip inside out. “Uh... I...” He stumbled for words, then let out a breath.
This was just what Piper did. She had a way of drawing you in and making you feel comfortable. Then she spun the tables and turned the chairs into hot seats. Whit was twenty-nine and fully capable of not getting caught up in her verbal gymnastics, or in her. He had important business ahead of him, this morning and over the next three months. There was no time to get caught off balance.
He stopped walking and looked down at Piper. “I am single. I’m not interested in a long-term relationship right now. But if I ever am, I’ll remember to contact Love, Oregon.”
This race for county commissioner was the battle of his life. It was one he intended to win, no matter what the polls currently said. There might be time for a relationship down the road, but right now he barely had time for breakfast, much less anything as complicated as love. Casual dating was fine, but the complexity of a long-term commitment would pull his focus away from the task at hand. Having witnessed the meltdown within his own family, he didn’t have much faith in his ability to commit to anyone. Logically, he understood it was messed up, he was messed up. But this was not the time to dwell on the past, or future. Once he resolved the issues facing his community, then he could think about addressing personal issues.
Unfortunately, his casual dating had become a target for his opponent. But Whit’s campaign manager had a plan and seemed to think they could bounce back from this smear campaign stronger than ever. Whit had his fingers crossed that whomever Dan asked to help with this situation was easygoing and calm about the whole thing.
“Okay, that makes no sense, but we’re talking about you, so, par for the course.” She gazed critically at his outfit, then focused on the hat he held. “Did you take over your family’s ranch?”
How would she know that? Had Ash said something about him to Piper? Had she asked?
As though reading his mind, Piper gestured to his clothing. “You’re wearing the dressed-up rancher uniform.”
Whit looked down at his khakis and chambray shirt. Right. “Uh, yeah. I took over the family place a few years back. We’re outside of Tumalo.”
She grinned at him. “Ah yes, it’s nice to live outside the city limits of Tumalo. I’m sure the crush of the other 499 residents can get to be a lot.”
Whit’s heart rate picked up, as it always did when he sparred with Piper. He raised an eyebrow and shot back, “I do appreciate the quiet of my ranch. Tumalo can get intense, especially when cars get backed up at the Pony Espresso stand.”
“Pony Espresso?” Piper wrinkled her nose. “Please tell me there’s not seriously a coffee cart called the Pony Espresso.”
“I can’t take it back now.”
“End times are coming,” she said, lifting the dog and looking in its face as she spoke in her baby-Muppet voice. “I can feel it.”
Whit took a step in front of Piper and opened the door into the events center for her. End times would be here if he failed to win this campaign.
“Wait. Are you here for this whole awful commissioner situation?” she asked.
Whit kept his hand on the door, gazing at her. Did she not know he was running for the position? Her right eye narrowed slightly, and he realized he was staring at her, not answering her question.
“Yes.”
She rolled her shoulders back. “Ash called and needs my help or something. I’m not super political these days, but it sounds like the current county commissioner is terrible. I’ll help out wherever I can.”
“Me too.” Whit drew in a deep breath.
He needed all his strength for this coming meeting. Unfortunately, Piper Wallace had a habit of illuminating his every weakness.
PIPER HAD TO pass awfully close to Whit Benton as he held the door for her. He smelled the same, like standing in a pine grove fifteen minutes after a troop of Old Spice employees had been testing product. It wasn’t a bad smell, but it was distinctive.
Yeah, he smelled the same, but he looked even better than he had in college. Not that she noticed. Or that it mattered.
But he did legitimately look good. He’d been working out.
In a way, she was glad he was here, as glad as anyone can be to unexpectedly run into their old nemesis from the debate team. It helped her redirect her angst and give her a worthy adversary. The vague fog of dissatisfaction and self-doubt she’d been floundering in for the past year was hard to fight head on. Whit was more straightforward, and at least in college, he’d always been up for an argument.
Plus, if he was here to help deal with the whole county commissioner thing, the opposition better watch out. Whit was fiercely brilliant. Even if he did frequent a place called Pony Espresso.
Piper stepped from the bright sunlight into the events center at Eighty Local, scanning the room with a show of defiance to mask her apprehension.
Her brother, Hunter, and his fiancée, Ani, were bringing food in from the main restaurant, laughing together at some secret joke. Hunter’s twin, Bowman, stood patiently while his gorgeous doctor-wife, Maisy, inspected a cut on his arm that he’d probably gotten fighting a fire somewhere and never bothered to tell anyone about. Ash was talking with some guy Piper didn’t recognize, his fingers intertwined with Violet’s as she spoke to Ash’s son, Jackson. And Jackson apparently had no respect for Piper’s wishes. Her nephew had gone ahead and grown a foot taller and was going into his junior year this fall, despite her direct request to stop growing up so fast.
Piper felt an uncomfortable pressure behind her eyes as her gaze landed on Clara. Her sister and best friend in the world seemed to shine with light from within as she smiled up at her husband and their newborn baby. She was so happy.
Piper swallowed hard. It got worse every time she returned to her family. She was acutely aware of all she was missing, aware of how much she missed them.
She was aware of being different.
Piper couldn’t love her siblings more, and the noisy cocoon of being home. But she was a city girl. She couldn’t remember not loving the shuffle and energy of busy streets. She loved her downtown loft, her morning cappuccino at the corner shop, all the well-behaved little puppies of her Pearl District neighborhood.
But while she was off enjoying the hum of the city, everyone was moving on back home. Their lives were interconnected: working together, running into each other everywhere, even living on the same property in the case of her brothers. She had to make do with instant messaging and trips home twice a month. If she ever asked her family members to come visit her, they would. But it always made more sense for her to come here, where one person was inconvenienced by the trip, rather than the whole family.
She was the odd duck who’d somehow flown off course and wound up living apart from the rest of the flock. When she was dating Liam, she assumed they’d get married. Then she and her siblings would at least be in the same stage of life together, even if those lives were dramatically different. But that wasn’t happening. Liam had dumped her over an argument about breakfast foods. Is there anything worse than being dumped by someone you were only settling for in the first place?
The foggy sadness started to expand behind her rib cage. Piper focused on her sister’s happiness, determined to stop the self-doubt before it could take root. Clara’s smile shone as her son gripped her pinky finger, pulling it toward his mouth.
As though she could feel her watching, which she probably could, Clara turned suddenly. “Piper!”
Piper plastered on a bright smile and held out one arm as Clara rushed her, and then her sister was hugging her—and the dog—tight.
“Who’s this friend?” Clara asked, bending down to speak to the dachshund. “Oh, she has a frog hat! She’s a frog-dog! So cute!!”
“This is Bernice. I’m babysitting for two months.” Piper glanced around. “Speaking of babies, I hope Jet’s not planning on hogging Bobby all day.”
“Oh, always.”
Piper glanced over to see Jet with the tiny infant in his arms. He was now deep in conversation with Whit. Super weird. How did Jet know Whit?
“Is everyone here because of the county commissioner thing?” Piper asked. The crowd included her siblings and a handful of others, fewer than twenty total. She couldn’t exactly remember what Ash had said on the phone. Just that there was some disaster, and he needed her help. Piper would never admit to Ash, or anyone else, how good it felt to be needed.
Clara’s face grew serious. “It’s really bad. Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.”
Clara wound her fingers through Piper’s and kissed her cheek. “You are literally the best.”
“No, you’re the best.”
“Don’t argue with me.”
“I’m stating facts. Speaking of which, it is a fact that it’s been a week and a half since I’ve held my nephew.”
Clara grinned then waved her husband over.
“Okay, Jet! Hi,” Piper called. She held out her free hand. “Baby, please.”
Clara’s husband gave her an indulgent smile. As always, he was happy to see her, reluctant to give up his son.
At this point, the rest of the family caught on to her presence, and the trepidation began to evaporate then vanished entirely. There were hugs, as brothers and their significant others came at her from all angles. Bowman pulled out one of the plush benches, and Piper settled Bernice next to her and patted the other side for her seventeen-year-old nephew, Jackson, to sit. She quizzed him about his friends and summer football practice as she opened her arms for the newest family member, Bobby. Clara’s newborn gazed up at her then yawned.
He was an unbelievable miracle.
Jackson, a full head taller than he’d been six months ago, grinned at her. Also an unbelievable miracle, and one that seriously needed to stop growing.
“Literally the two best nephews in the world,” Piper declared.
“What about Larry?” Whit asked from where he was setting up a computer and projector.
Piper considered this. “I like that emu, but to be considered a best he’d have to be more...”
“Human?” Ash guessed.
“Well-groomed, I was going to say.”
Piper turned back to Jackson, who was holding out his finger for Bobby to grip. “He’s gonna play receiver,” Jackson predicted.
“What do the receivers do again?” Piper asked.
Jackson groaned. “Aunt Piper, we’ve been over this a million times.”
Piper started to respond, but the guy Ash had been talking with was glaring at her. She narrowed her right eye and glared right back. “Is something wrong?”
“Are you settled?” he asked, with an awful lot of sarcasm for someone who wasn’t a family member.
“Yeah.” She gestured to Jackson and Bernice with the baby. “I am.”
“Then maybe we should start the meeting?”
“Sure?” Piper instinctively glanced at Whit. He repressed a smile. “What? Meet away. I’m just trying to be a good aunt over here.”
Jackson patted her shoulder. “You’re always a good aunt.”
The grumpy man stalked to the raised dais, where Whit remained with the computer.
“I don’t need to thank you all for coming today. I know this is top priority for everyone. We’re here because Marc Holt as county commissioner threatens our way of life.” The man glanced at Whit, then moved to the computer and projector setup. “Do you want to get people up to speed on where we are, then I can go over the campaign strategies?”
“Sounds good, Dan.” Whit widened his stance and clasped his hands behind him, sending a flood of nostalgia through Piper. It was almost like she hadn’t known she’d missed those days of college debate until now. She and Whit had been on the same team, but bitter rivals, competing for spots in tournaments. More than once, their coach had required them to work together, which generally resulted in a near-death experience for the two of them, and a win.
“Marc Holt was elected as county commissioner four years ago. He’s from out of state but ran a good campaign and promoted himself as being in favor of small businesses and family farming operations. During his tenure in office, he’s been popular. He meets with constituents regularly and has important friends. But his policies are decidedly anti-family business. He’s in favor of raising taxes on any land holding under 10,000 acres. He’s consistently moved against protection of wildlife and recently proposed guidelines that would make it prohibitively expensive to practice the modern, sustainable ranching techniques that Outcrop has pioneered in the area. This alone would be enough for us to run a candidate against him.”
Piper ran her finger across her littlest nephew’s cheek. Bernice nestled closer, trying to help her care for the baby.
“But that was before we learned about Hummingbird Ranch.” Whit clicked a button on the computer, and an aerial view of Deschutes County appeared, crisscrossed with lines and numbers. “Backers from New Jersey have proposed building a community of luxury estates—second and third homes for people who want to own multiple vacation properties. It would divert water from local ranches, and all the infrastructure would be funded by property taxes levied on year-round residents. You’ll see in this illustration that nearly all the farm and ranching land surrounding Outcrop is included in the project. If Hummingbird Ranch is approved, Holt will do whatever he can to force local owners to sell. That includes impeding business, higher taxes and the creation of new, restrictive building codes.”
“I’m sorry.” Piper raised her hand but kept talking without being acknowledged. “What does that mean exactly?”
“It means that Jet’s organic ranching business will effectively become illegal,” Clara said.
Hunter gazed back at her. “It means the taxes on Eighty Local will double within the year.”
Bowman gripped his wife’s hand, then gave Piper a sad smile. “It means I can’t build a house for Maisy and me out by Fort Rock. There’s a policy that prohibits building a second home on land with one established residence already.”
“What? This is...no. This is a no. You can’t even build a house on our property?”
“Not if Marc Holt has his way. The idea is to make it hard for families to hold on to their land, so that over time we all sell out to Hummingbird Ranch,” Ash said.
Piper bristled. Bernice bristled beside her. “So, what are we doing about it?”
Ash answered, “Whit here is running against Marc.”
“You are?” Whit flexed his brow, then nodded at Piper as though this weren’t optimal. It was the best news. “Okay then, that’s that. Whit will win. He’s, like, a local rancher who’s smart and good at arguing. What are we worried about?”
Whit let out a breath. Dan put a hand on his shoulder and said, “It’s not your fault.”
Whit shrugged in silent disagreement. “My fault or not, I have to fix it. Guess we should play the ad?”
Dan addressed the group again. “This advertisement will air Thursday. It was sent to us as a courtesy by the Holt campaign.”
“More like a threat,” Whit mumbled.
He pressed a key on the computer, and a commercial played on the screen.
“Who is Whit Benton?” the deep, suspicious voice one only hears in political ads boomed. It showed a picture of Whit at a backyard barbecue, holding a beer and smiling as though maybe it wasn’t his first beer of the evening. “He wants you to think he’s a local rancher.”
“Isn’t he a local rancher?” Piper asked Clara.
“Yep. And he has the audacity to want people to think that.”
The commercial flipped to a picture showing Whit floating in an inner tube on the Deschutes River, laughing with a group of people. Okay, he’d definitely been working out. And sure, this might not be the top “Elect me!” photograph, but tubing on the Deschutes was legal. And fun.
Suspicious announcer man continued, “Who is he, really?”
Creepy music played as the commercial ran through a number of pictures of Whit, each with a different woman: out to dinner, playing golf, skiing, having coffee, sipping martinis, a sepia filter making something like an innocuous golf date look seedy.
“Someone’s been busy,” Piper muttered.
“You’re one to talk,” Hunter shot back.
Piper opened her mouth to argue, then shut it. Hunter was right. She’d been on a streak of revenge dating since Liam dumped her. She wasn’t in a strong position to judge.
“Whit Benton is twenty-nine years old. He’s never held political office. He doesn’t even have a real job.”
The room reacted strongly. Piper’s anger built. When Ash asked for her help with the county commissioner election, she hadn’t realized the situation was so dire.
The music changed, and a squeaky-clean couple in their midsixties appeared on the screen, walking through a field, surrounded by a passel of matching grandchildren. The announcer lost the suspicious tone as he went on to talk about Holt’s experience and credibility.
“Okay, Marc Holt is gross.” Piper scratched Bernice under the chin and spoke to the dog, “He’s a gross, yucky man.”
“Totally gross,” Clara agreed.
“And his wife’s hair?”
“Inexcusable.”
“This guy cannot win,” Piper said. “Not on my watch. What can I do?”
Dan cleared his throat and looked at Ash. Ash exhaled then nodded.
All in all, it seemed uncharacteristically ominous.
“What?” she asked.
The room stilled. Everyone seemed to know what was up. She glanced at Whit for answers, but that guy looked stunned.
“Wait.” Whit’s eyes were wide as he looked first at Dan, then at Ash and finally at Piper. “Her?”
OKAY, WHIT WAS man enough to admit he was still a little bit afraid of Piper Wallace. And that fear was completely justified.
“What do you mean, ‘Wait, her’?” Piper asked. “‘Wait, her’ what?”
“Piper, I need you to listen to me,” Ash spoke calmly.
Dan shook his head in frustration. “I don’t think she’s gonna work at all.”
Piper turned on Dan, baby still in her arms, frog-dog giving a throaty growl next to her. “Not gonna work for what?”
Ash stepped in front of his sister like she was an unruly colt, then he knelt down to look in her eyes. Whit could see why the guy was so successful with horses. “We need someone to act as Whit’s long-term girlfriend, just for the next few months until the election is over. We need to project a new image for Whit.”
“Holt has him looking like a frat boy,” Dan said.
“That couldn’t be more wrong,” Piper said. “Whit never stepped foot in a frat. He was too busy trying to steal my library cubicle.”
“That cubicle didn’t belong to you.”
“But it was my favorite.”
Dan shook his head. “Ash, this isn’t going to work”
“This—” Piper gestured between herself and Whit “—doesn’t need to work. He’s obviously capable of getting a date on his own.”
Whit stepped forward, desperate to get the situation back under control. “Piper, the problem isn’t me getting a date. We’re taking on a ruthless man who will do anything to win. There’s a lot of money at stake for the backers of Hummingbird Ranch. I have to present an irreproachable image. I can’t be criticized for anything.”
“Then keep your shirt on the next time you go tubing.”
Whit shook his head. “Wow, Piper.” He sighed. She hadn’t changed a bit. He turned to Dan. “You’re right. She’s not gonna work. Piper, if I’d had any idea Ash was thinking of you, I’d never have gone along with it.”
Piper bristled. “What’s wrong with me? I mean, I don’t want to do this, but I’d make a fine fake girlfriend.”
Whit put his hands in his pockets and studied his boots. Then he looked up at Piper and fired off the most obvious misgiving. “Well, to begin with, you’re a matchmaker. I thought they were setting me up with a professional woman.”
A groan escaped from the Wallace family, as though he’d simultaneously sucker punched the entire clan.
“I’m sorry.” Whit raised a hand. “I didn’t mean matchmaking isn’t a profession. I just assumed he meant a lawyer or something.”
Piper rolled her eyes. “My apologies for making an excellent living helping others.”
Whit widened his stance. He might not be perfect, but he was a good man and was willing to sacrifice everything for his community. Piper didn’t get to make him feel bad. And if he’d learned one thing in college, it was how to argue against her. “Then there’s just you.”
“Me?”
“You’re not exactly a rancher’s girlfriend. I mean...” He gestured vaguely. “You live in Portland. You’re wearing what I assume are designer clothes. You’re carrying a dachshund in a frog hat. No woman on a ranch would ever have such a ridiculous dog.”
Piper’s jaw dropped. She looked at Clara then Ash’s fiancée, Violet, then the other women in the room.
“Oh my God, you’re a ridiculous dog.” She turned to Ash. “I can understand now why someone has to pretend to date him.”
Whit shook his head, unable to keep himself from arguing. She’d always lit this spark in him that made him want to debate whatever she was saying. “Come on, Piper. What even is that thing? Its body is a foot long, it’s got stubby little legs. You must be overfeeding it because its belly practically drags on the ground.”
Piper’s eyes flashed. “She’s pregnant.”
Whit eyed the grumpy, suspicious dog. “That cannot be comfortable.”
“Are you body-shaming a dog?”
“I’m not body-shaming it. I’m saying it looks like someone took all the spare dog parts lying around and made an improbable creature just to laugh at it.”
“Maybe she thinks your legs are too long. Maybe she looks at you and feels sorry that your momma put you in a silly hat.”
“It looks like a frog.”
“That’s the whole point! It’s cute.” She eyed him. “And you’re really not one to be criticizing anyone’s outfit. Hello, non-ironic khaki pants?”
Whit massaged the twitch in his temple, muttering to himself, “It all sounded so simple when Dan suggested it.”
This was bad. He needed to come back looking strong and responsible after the smear campaign. Now he felt like he might as well be wearing a hand-crocheted frog bonnet himself.
“Hey, Piper?” Bowman, the least voluble of the Wallace siblings, spoke quietly. “I know you hate anything that’s inauthentic, and pretending to be in love with someone goes against everything you stand for.” He looked up at the ceiling then back at Piper. “But Whit’s a good guy. Holt’s gonna be hard to beat. We wouldn’t ask you to do this if we didn’t think it was necessary.” He smiled at her, and Whit noticed for the first time that he had a small, slightly off-center gap between his front teeth. “Plus, it might be kinda fun for you. Outsmarting Holt. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
Piper shifted. Bobby stretched and fussed briefly in her arms. She stood and paced with the baby, easily settling him.
“How come it has to be a pretend girlfriend? Clara and I could match him up with someone he’d actually like.” She glanced at Clara and raised her eyebrows.
Clara started to respond positively, but Whit interrupted her, “I can’t. This campaign takes everything I have. I’m not great with relationships, as evidenced by the video.” He met Piper’s gaze. “When this campaign is over, I promise you, I’ll figure out what my problem is. I might even hire Clara to help me figure it out. But right now, I need someone I’m not gonna offend when I don’t call twice a day or when I beg off from commitments because I have too much work to do. I have to be selfish with my time right now to win this election.”
Piper studied him for a long moment. Then she did the one thing he never had been able to resist. She smiled, a real smile, eyes lit up, dimples flexing in her cheeks. “You’re too selfish for a real girlfriend?”
Whit nodded. “That’s right.”
Her smile only grew, like she knew what it was to be too self-involved to commit to anyone else. “That I can understand. I’m in.” She turned to Dan. “When’s our first date?”
