Awkward is an understatement for how we part ways after our plane lands in Atlanta. Neither of us attempts to leave together, but of course we both must go to baggage claim. We walk separately to the tram but when someone’s small suitcase drops and needs to be lifted, I have no choice but to slow down with all the other cattle. That plants me next to the insanely egotistical man I just joined the Mile High Club with and who, while still inside me, told me not to hang my hat on him.

Our footsteps align as though we’re together.

“Well, hello,” I mutter to break the tension.

“Funny seeing you here,” he grumbles. “Watch out.” He grabs my elbow and guides me away from running into a small child.

“My hero.”

He dryly says, “That’s me.”

Continuing along with the cramped herd it becomes impossible to separate without a good reason. Without one would be blatantly rude. I fake a call coming in so I can slow down to opt for the tramcar behind his. “Excuse me. Nice meeting you.”

A frown dashes onto his handsome face and he nods once. “You, too.”

With a silent phone to my ear I say, “Hello?” to nobody, and push through the crowd, making it just before the doors close. Everyone grabs onto something to stay stable when the tram bursts into action. I glance through the small window into his car. He’s staring forward, like everyone else. His body sways with the train’s swift movement, but Justin isn’t holding a strap or bar. He’s got his hands shoved in his pockets and he looks pissed. Women of all colors and ages take a second and third peek at him.

“Is it really as hot as they say it is in Atlanta?” a male voice asks from my right.

I blink to him. “Excuse me?”

“Hotlanta…isn’t that what they call it?”

I shrug a little. “No, I think they call it that because the city is so hot.” Off his confused look I explain, “What with the movie business moving in to make films there. I mean…here. It’s hot as in popular.”

He looks toward the doors as they swoosh open and a warm-blooded avalanche of passengers releases. I join the herd. Justin’s blonde head is a few people in front of me.

His slow gait forces mine to slow, and then bodies fan out to the baggage carousels.

Now I have a better view of Justin’s straight posture, his broad, straight shoulders, and the bump of his perfect ass.

“Handsome, isn’t he?”

Glancing over I discover an older woman walking in step with me. She’s dressed upscale, gray hair cut short. “Justin Cocker?” she offers, motioning toward him with her chin.

“I don’t know him,” I lie.

“Well you will,” she smiles, eyeing Justin. “They say he’s running for Senator this election.”

My mouth goes dry. “That can’t be right.”

“Yes, wouldn’t that be something! He means to challenge, oh, what’s our current Senator’s name?”

“Senator Rothdale.” I choke, “Are you sure?”

“It hasn’t been announced yet, but that is the rumor. That Cocker family, they’ve been in politics for over a century. I think he has quite the shot. His father is a congressman, you know.”

“You don’t say,” I mutter, knowing full well who Congressman Cocker is.

Justin takes a post nearest the end where the bags will appear first. I wouldn’t have expected him to choose anywhere else to stand.

She rolls her eyes with appreciation. “His father! Mercy, what a stunner. Michael Cocker can put his shoes under my bed anytime! More my age. But that one.” She points to Justin, who thankfully has his back to us. “That leaf hasn’t fallen far from the tree.” She heads away, leaving me reeling.

Justin…running for Senate?

God, I hope she’s wrong about that.

The belt begins to move and soon bags thump heavily onto the ramp, inching their way by the passengers. I stand far down on the same side as Justin so that there’s plenty of distance between us. I’ll have to roll my bag a little farther, but so what?

I can’t believe this.

He can’t be running for Senate!

Staring forward I bite my lip to pieces. When his voice interrupts my solitude I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Whoa,” he chuckles, throwing up one hand like he’s unarmed. “Where were you?”

“Lost in thought. Can I help you?”

His gorgeous green eyes lose all their familiarity and warmth. “Nope. Was just going to…never mind. Forget it.” He turns and walks away, leaving me blinking at his exit, feeling like a terrible person.

Pulling out my phone I make a call.

“Senator Rothdale’s office.”

“Hi LeeAnne, is my father there?”

“Oh, Jaimie! Hi! Yes, the senator is in. Hold just a moment.”

Justin lifts his bag from the moving belt.

“How’s my baby girl doing? How was your flight?”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Dad. The flight was…interesting. Did you send a car?”

“Of course I did. Is he not waiting for you? LeeAnne! You sent Jaimie a car to Hartsfield-Jackson, didn’t you?” In the background I hear her swear she did.

Before he disappears Justin turns and holds my gaze a moment. I don’t look away. Not even after he’s gone.

“Jaimie?” my father asks.

“What? No, Dad. I haven’t gone out there yet. I’m sure he’s waiting.” Spotting my bag inching toward me I mutter, “I have to grab my suitcase. I’ll call you if I get lost.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to pick you up myself.”

I don’t know why he’s even saying that. He always sends a driver.

I hang up to chase my suitcase down the belt around people who won’t move. The woman who told me about Justin running for Senate yanks it off the carousel. “I saw him talking to you,” she offers with a smile that begs for more information.

“He wanted to know the time. Thanks for my suitcase.”

“He’s wearing a watch.”

“It broke. They do that. Things break. Have a great day,” I smile, rolling five day’s worth of clothing toward the exit. My boxes will come before that time is up, one hopes.

When the sunlight hits my face outside I search for Justin, but he’s gone. Only unfamiliar faces surround me now.

A man who is standing by a black Chrysler 300 sedan calls out, “Ms. Rothdale!”

I nod and head toward him, extremely glad that Justin Cocker — future opponent — wasn’t around to hear that.