Chapter Two
“Would you stop consulting with Albert on his latest conquest and mingle a little.” My father leaned into my ear and shout-whispered. There was never a moment to myself when he accompanied me to functions, and this one was no different. Mingle Colton, make connections Colton, maybe find yourself a wife while you’re at it, Colton. I swear I was sick of my name. I clenched my fists at my side feeling my jaw tense. I had wanted to give my father a piece of my mind so many times in the past and held back. Lately, the urge was growing stronger and gaining fuel. I didn’t know what fire was causing my fuel to burn but I was embracing it for once.
I gave him a side-long glance while gnawing at the inside of my cheek hoping it would curb the words threatening to spill from my lips. Without answering him, I returned my attention to Al, who just asked me to tweak my speech tonight to include a vague comment about old age pension since we were trying to capture the senior vote. Assuming I was still announcing my intent to run for President. I tended not to share my intimate thoughts on the matter with Al anymore even though he was my best friend; he always wanted me to run. He believed I was the right guy for the job. “Will do,” I replied, not wanting to stir the pot before I made a final decision.
“Don’t ignore me, boys,” my father cut in. It’s funny that he still liked to call us boys. We were far from boys. I left my father’s home when I went off to college and never returned. Al and I also paid our bills and fucked around with too many women to be considered boys.
“With all due respect Mr. Mathis. Our boy,” Al grinned salaciously, “is nowhere near ready to settle down. He may not have a bride by his side, but our boy,” he accentuated again, “is well liked.” Al responded to my father understanding his hidden meaning in the words mingle. I knew there was a reason I kept Al close.
I blew out a breath, straightened my tie, gave my father a cheeky smile and said, “Time to mingle.” I just wanted to remove myself from my father’s presence before he took on the role of matchmaker and dragged me around the room to meet all the potential lifelong partners in the place. I’m not exaggerating; he’d done that before. It wasn’t pretty. It usually ended in him finding me a lady whom he felt was, and I quote, the perfect match… proper upbringing, education and wanting to commit to the role of the first lady. Gah! The problem was the many holes in his tactics.
Firstly, most of the single women he came across wanted to date me or at minimum bed me. These females took in the scent of power that the governorship gave and wanted in. I was good looking, built, had a trust fund, and a sleeve of tattoos down my arm. Most women were intrigued by the tattoos. Not many men at my political stature had them, at least from what the public knew. It had become an intrigue for a politician to have a tattoo. I blame the Canadian Prime Minister who visited Washington last year. The media was all about publicizing his tattoos and somehow they latched on to me too, reporting on my muscular arms and colorful sleeve. The media attention added to the frenzy on me even though I’d already been established as Chicago’s most wanted bachelor.
I scanned the room in search of some interesting conversation. This was the second year I was attending the Veteran Affairs Gala. I respected our veterans wholeheartedly. Before I applied to Harvard, I wanted to join the military. My father had been against it. Said I was all he had and if something happened to me, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. I didn’t enlist naturally but I’ve always felt like it was something I should have done.
Just as I’m about to have a seat at one of the tables next to some older veterans that have tags on their suit jackets saying they fought in Vietnam my father stops me. “Son, glad I caught you. Mr. Bachmaker wants to introduce you to his niece.” My eyes widened and I blew out a long puff of air. Is that guy here tonight? Dammit! For some reason, I had a feeling my father would orchestrate a meeting. I just didn’t think it would be so soon.
“Not tonight. I was hoping to speak to these men.” I nodded to the gentlemen sitting around the table exchanging war stories. My father pursed his lips together a telltale sign he wanted to get his way.
“Don’t you see that this is for your own good?” I was losing the battle to meet the niece, so I caved like I usually did. I couldn’t be the only one raised by a single parent who was intrusive and borderline obsessive about my personal life. I just couldn’t be.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to have a woman standing by your side when you make your announcement?” My father’s dark brows furrowed together. His deep brown eyes, so different from mine, darkened while he waited in anticipation.
I tilted my head back and a deep chuckle escaped my throat. “I don’t need a woman beside me when I have a different one under me every night.” I winked because my father was the one who taught me how to be a lady’s man. I learned from the best and now he was all for me throwing my bachelor status and fun out the window.
“Not here, Colton. You can’t think with your dick when it comes to campaigning. Thinking with your dick will have you falling for the wrong woman.” And even though he didn’t say it, I knew he was speaking of my mother.
“You can’t surely believe I could meet and have time to fall in love with a woman in a span of a couple of weeks? You know me.” I scoffed, shaking my head at the notion. I’ve never had a relationship last longer than three months. My old man hasn’t had a relationship with a woman last more than a few weeks since Mom left. How he thinks I can fall in love so quickly was ludicrous.
“You’re my son. I’m fully aware of what you are and are not capable of. That’s why you need a nudge from your father.” He tilted his chin urging me forward.
I turned my head so that our eyes were level. “Did you ever consider that maybe I have no interest in being president?” The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them.
My father clenched his jaw and got a daunting look in his eyes. I usually didn’t take such a rebellious stance with him but sometimes desperate measures called for extreme responses.
My father’s face fell and his skin paled. “Is that what you want, Colton? Truly? Because I’ve dedicated my life getting you to this point,” his voice trailed off and his words settled on me like a thick honey coat of guilt.
“Just introduce me to the niece,” I conceded feeling even more defeat. Like my face was pressed into the sand and I was unable to breathe. I extended a hand for him to lead the way a hollow version of myself following.
He glared disappointedly before passing me with the silent instruction to follow. And even though my breathing was labored, my usual guilt roiled in my stomach. The blame he used to get me to do anything he damn well pleased.
“Mr. Bachmaker, you remember my son, Governor Colton Mathis.” My father smiled proudly making the introduction. Mr. Bachmaker’s family was in the oil business down in Texas before they began to spread their wings across the country and buy real estate when the market crashed many years back. My romancing his niece would result in a substantial contribution to my campaign. I felt like a prostitute. I wasn’t going to sleep with her even if she was pretty just to prove that I stuck my dick where I chose and not where I was told. Why did I feel so childish thinking those words? My mind had been warped somewhere from the time my mother took off until today.
“Hello, again Mr. Bachmaker.”
“Pleasure is all mine, Colton.” He grinned before turning to the young woman sitting by his side. He gave her a nudge and she fumbled to stand. “I’d like to introduce you to my niece. Madeline Huntsworth.” The woman smiled a toothy grin. I couldn’t help but rake my eyes over her body. She didn’t look like Mr. Bachmaker at all. She was blonde, pretty green eyes, smiled a lot. Wore a dark blue dress that was simple and sophisticated. I wouldn’t be surprised if she came straight from her office to the gala. She was average height, nice full breasts. In short, she was doable. As the thought entered my mind, I chided myself for sounding so much like Al in my head. Was I considering sleeping with this woman? What had my life come to? I felt low, dirty. It’s the one thing I promised myself I would never feel like as politician and here I was for the first time in my life feeling utterly defeated. And it was only a matter of time before I would make an announcement that would change my life forever. Fucking hell.
I extended my hand with a smile because Mathis men are always gentlemen. “Madeline, it’s a pleasure.” I paused to look at my father. He had such a pleased look on his face. That overwhelming feeling of not wanting to disappoint him swept over me once more. “Colt,” I finally said and my father let out a loud cough like he was choking. Only him, Al and a few close friends from college ever called me Colt. He was probably worried I was about to sabotage his efforts.
Madeline’s cheeks turned pink as I said my nickname. It wasn’t something new for me to see a woman blush in my presence since most women had that reaction to my looks. It was my ocean blue eyes. Women feel like I can see right through them because of the bright coloring. I never argue that notion because it gets me laid, but it’s a crock of shit. They also tell me I could be Henry Cavill’s twin with my large built frame, wide jaw bone and high cheeks. My response is usually, “You mean he looks like me.” Okay, so I may be a little conceited but I still am a nice guy, I swear. On some level, it’s my self-deprecation about my looks that makes me brush them off too. I know I don’t look like my father which means I look like the woman that gave me life and left me behind. A part of me hated having her look back at me when I looked in the mirror.
“Nice to meet you.” She shakes my hand firmly and I felt the reverberations down my arm. Not surprising. I suspect she had to earn her place in a courtroom as a defense attorney.
“Which law firm are you with?” I ask just to make conversation because her dear old uncle already told me. Off to the side, I noticed my father whispering something to her uncle probably campaign stuff I didn’t care to know about.
“Kincaid and Landry,” she replies while smiling from cheek to cheek and batting her eyelashes. She must be a second-year associate at best. I was much older than her but I get why her uncle would think that the possible next president of the United States would be a good match. She’s precisely the type of woman my father refers to as proper upbringing, education, and family name.
“Yes, of course, I’m familiar with the firm. I used to practice in Illinois myself. I heard Kincaid Senior is about to retire,” I say feeling the need to pull teeth to make conversation.
“Yes, I heard that too,” she confirms. Again, she ends the potential for further conversation. Feeling like I’ve been staring at her awkwardly for a few seconds longer than I’d like, I allow my gaze to wander to either side of the room. Father was in deep conversation with Mr. Bachmaker to my right. I scan the room for Al, hoping I could eye motion him to save me from this situation but instead I notice a woman briskly walk past me, her long red hair catches my attention and the scent of strawberry she leaves behind makes me want to follow her like a dog in heat. My gaze remains trained on her as she pauses and smiles at an older man. I watch their animated conversation. How they look warmly at each other. Like a grandfather would his granddaughter and suddenly I’m so intrigued I forget where I am and who I’m speaking with. I can only see her profile, pale skin, blue eyes, lush red lips, a spattering of freckles across her cheeks. My eyes roam down her body unashamedly to the curve of her behind in that slender red gown and my dick stiffens. Oh, fuck! I’m the first to admit that my body readily reacts to a beautiful woman, but this lady…she blows everyone else out of the water. My breath catches and my chest warms, I’m not sure what’s happening but before I know it, my feet are moving. I’m following her and the older man she’s with, but I’m at least a few feet behind them. I’m pretty sure I hear my father call out my name from behind me but I don’t turn around because I’m too enthralled with the lady before me. She pauses in the middle of the dance floor where she and the older guy begin to dance to “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole and Natalie Cole and for some reason this moment is unforgettable as I watch them, her face pressed to the older man’s chest. He looks like he must be a World War II veteran, maybe her grandfather. Before I can think my legs are carrying me toward them. My eyes glued to her. This mystery woman who has captured my breath with one glance.
“Excuse me. May I cut in?” I ask. Her back is facing me and she doesn’t move from her spot or turn her head. The older man stops dancing and she lifts her head to look in his eyes.
“That would be up to her,” he replies. He looks at the beautiful woman in his arms and she turns to look at me but her stare is blank. Her blue eyes sparkle in the dim light of the dance floor and some crystal stones on her dress glimmer off the chandelier lights.
She doesn’t answer me, so I repeat my question and extend a hand. “May I have this dance?”
She smiles and it’s brilliant. It also sends a pang of warmth into my chest. She looks at the older man for a moment. “Sorry, I’m busy,” she replies. It’s completely unexpected. I wonder if she knows who I am. I know it sounds cocky but seriously, given my looks and position women are putty in my hands.
She continues to dance with the older guy.
I’m stuck standing in my spot, my mouth hanging open. I’m speechless for a brief moment when I realize I don’t want to take no for an answer. I want one dance, one conversation, at least the chance to know what she’s like. It’s an odd sensation for me because I’ve never been genuinely interested in a lady past a good lay, but I’m intrigued.
I take two steps and tap her shoulder since her back is to me. She turns to look at me like I’m a nuisance, her mouth opens to speak but I interrupt her. “Sorry to intrude again, but…” I pause as the memory of the Bachmaker ribbon cutting ceremony replays in my mind. I get a fluttery feeling in my chest, my brows furrow and my curiosity becomes even more heightened because taking a look at her up close tells me that my memory isn’t mistaken and she’s the pie-whipping bandit. For some reason, I find the situation amusing and my eyes drag up and down her body. Geez, she cleans up nice. She’s fucking stunning, classy, elegant. Nothing like the wild, free, and apparently angry woman that threw the pie.
“I’m sorry can I help you?” Her brows are dipped together as she asks the question. She also seems a little nervous like maybe she knows I’ve recognized her.
“I’d really like a dance.” I persist hoping she doesn’t get turned off by my perseverance but now that I see it’s her, I want the dance even more.
She shakes her head.
“Why?” I insist. I’m a little pushy but my ego is hurt and now I also want to know why she’s a pie-wielding vixen in her spare time.
The older man gives her a little nudge and with unspoken words with a blink of an eye and a tilt of a chin tells her to dance with me. She blows out a puff of air and stares at the old guy, her eyes narrowing to slits. I’m pretty sure she’s about to tell him off or me where to go when she says, “Fine. One dance.”
Ha! My ego is taking a real beating tonight. I feel like I’m treading on uncharted territory. In my past relations with women when things got too serious we broke it off. It was an arrangement I always set up off the bat. No complications, no spewing my undying love. Just raw animalistic sex. Simple.
I tilt my head almost in a bow and extend my hand. She takes it and I place one hand on her slender hip. My hand making contact with the silky fabric of her dress. She smells delectable; I’m enthralled. I can’t understand it for the life of me. We dance at a distance from each other and as the music continues, all I can think is that this woman is unforgettable.
“Are you going to give me your name?” I finally ask, breaking the silent stare between us.
She bites her lower lip and tilts her head to the side like she’s assessing me. “I guess I could,” she replies but she doesn’t give me her name while her lip curves in one corner. She continues to smile devilishly as we softly sway to the voices of Nat King Cole and Natalie Cole radiating through the hall making the moment feel surreal.
“And it would be,” I coax her into giving me her name.
“Evie,” she says sweetly looking deeply into my eyes. She has an accent I can’t place.
“Evie, that’s a beautiful name. I’m Colton,” I grin.
“I know, Mr. Governor,” she replies her tone terse. It throws me off a little as I wonder what her deal is. My intrigue wins out.
“So, beautiful Evie. What brings you to the Veteran Affairs ball tonight?”
“My uncle is a vet, World War II. He raised me; I respect him very much. So, I’m here.” She shrugs her shoulders. It felt like she wanted to say more and stopped herself. Her accent has me very curious but I don’t want to be rude and ask. I have to be careful with this woman because my sense tells me one wrong word from my mouth and she’s taking a hike. I’m not used to this, being the one to chase. It gives me an unexpected thrill.
“And you Mr. Governor. Why are you here?” she asks throwing me off my tracks. Isn’t it obvious why I’m here? To support the veterans, of course.
I smirk and bite my lower lip while I contemplate my answer for a moment. “I thought my presence would be obvious.”
The song changes to another slow song. I’m worried my time with her is up, but she doesn’t pull away from my embrace. “You mean to secure your support with the war veterans. I heard you’re about to announce that you’re running for the presidency.” Her words are more of a statement than a comment which causes my chest to tighten and my breath to hitch. I know there’s speculation whether I will run, but I hadn’t realized it was common knowledge.
“Ouch, that isn’t fair. I respect our military. I respect the men that have given up so much of their lives to fight our wars, to protect our freedoms.” The words bleed from me with the utmost conviction.
“You seem passionate about the subject,” she retorts with a hint of surprise in her tone. I can’t help but notice how she watches me so intently when I speak grabbing onto my every word. Watching my mouth, looking into my eyes. This woman is so different. Different, good.
“You sound surprised.” I grin, hoping to win her over with my smile. My smile has always been a sure thing.
Her lips slowly spread and I feel like maybe I’m winning her over.
She shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t know why but I had a different picture of you in my mind.” I want to say yeah, a picture where my face is covered in cream pie, thanks to yours truly? I keep my mouth shut. For now.
“Really? Do you mind sharing exactly what you mean?” I’m pushing a little but I can’t help myself. She seems to be a critic. I need to sway her.
“I just figured you were this spoiled rich kid who had the governorship handed to him on a silver platter,” she answers, and my jaw drops.
Fucking hell. She has no filter and yet I find her sexy as hell.
“That isn’t fair. I worked damn hard to get top grades at Harvard Law School. I worked a hundred hours a week in the prosecutor’s office before I even ran for state attorney. I may have been raised with money and I may have a topnotch education, but I’ve worked hard all my life. I set goals and I achieved them. I shouldn’t be blasted for hard work,” I scoff. I don’t mean too, but I need to set her straight. Besides I’ve been blasted with such accusations in the past. I have this speech ready at the tip of my tongue. The only difference is I’ve never defended myself to a woman I wanted to bed so badly. And a woman who I seem to repulse.
She squints her eyes, not relenting on that deep stare she seems to give me. It looks like she’s unsure if she should buy my argument. I need to change tactic. “Enough about me and my uninteresting life. Tell me about you. What do you do?” I ask as we move to the music. We’ve been dancing for awhile; I hope the DJ continues with the string of slow songs.
“I work in a clothing shop and on my free time, I volunteer with Habitat for Humanity. It’s—” I cut her off.
“I know what it is. Jeez. You must think I’m a real schmuck.”
She eyes me curiously.
“We had a donor donate some commercial land a few months back. We petitioned Cook County to have it transferred to a residential designation so we could build some homes. Two blocks over is a residential area; only we were declined. A representative from Habitat came to your office seeking your help in changing the order; only you were too busy to see him. You said you would call him back. You never did. We had planned to build homes for families that don’t have one. I’m sorry Mr. Governor, but you’re right. I think you’re a real schmuck.” My breath hitches as she pulls out of my embrace and takes a few steps back. Did she just call me a schmuck to my face? “If you’ll excuse me.” She turns to stalk away from me. I can’t have her walk away. I have to see her again.
My feet are moving before I can even process what’s happened. “Evie wait…please,” I beg but she doesn’t turn around.
“Give her space,” a deep scratchy voice says from behind me.
I turn around to see the source of advice. The older man that was dancing with Evie earlier approaches me. I think she said he was her uncle, although he seems a little old to be her uncle.
“You’re her uncle, right?” he shakes his head.
“Her grandfather,” he says. Okay, so she lied. What else did she lie to me about?
“Uh,” I nod.
“I think she likes you,” he says, throwing me off. I don’t want to pop his bubble and tell him that she hates me.
I chuckle, “She just called me a schmuck and took off. Pretty sure that’s a sure sign I was shot down.”
“A schmuck, huh?” he chortles and begins to laugh so hard his belly moves with him. When his laugh dies, his face turns serious. “She always did say what was on her mind.”
I straighten my tie and mutter, “apparently.” Then I snicker to myself this night just gets weirder by the passing minutes.
“You get around. I see the gossip columns,” he says, his voice turning stern. “My granddaughter isn’t that type of girl.”
Okay. Where did that come from? This old man and his granddaughter need some sort of verbal filter. “I know she isn’t that type of girl and don’t believe everything you read. I happen to be a nice guy. Truly,” I quip. “Can you tell me where I can find her? I just want to have a cup of coffee with her,” I say, thinking it sounds safe.
The old guy continues to stare at me like he’s trying to get inside my head and read my thoughts. He takes a couple of steps toward me. His eyes narrowing. “Coffee,” he repeats. “Okay, you gotta pen and paper?” He waits expectantly. I was expecting another snide remark, so I pause before it hits me to reach for my phone.
I pull my cell phone out and get ready to type.
“Sanderson School for the Deaf,” he says.
“You mean she works there?” I ask because if I’m not mistaken, she told me she works in a clothing store. Probably another lie. I should take the hint and let well enough be.
He gives me a look like I’m deft. “She’s my granddaughter. I ain’t giving you her home address because I don’t trust you. She didn’t give me permission to pass her phone number on so I won’t. You want to see her again you need to work for it. Meaning you find her at work and ask her out. You want coffee? Fine, but you gotta put the work in. My granddaughter is special like I said.” He tilts his chin. “You have a good night now.”
“You said Sanderson School for the Deaf. Right?” I shout out to confirm. He lifts his right hand and waves before entering the hall where the party is taking place.
His words repeat in my head. I need to work for it. Well, game on. I definitely don’t shy away from a challenge.