Mr. President (White House #1)(25)

He eyes the dog as if only now realizing he seems mighty comfortable with it. He smiles, then hooks his finger on the end of the collar. “Come on, Jack.” He heads to the car. “Want a ride?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

Looking disappointed, he opens the door and hops in, and they drive away.

I stay, stretching for a little bit, and I can’t seem to stop myself from replaying our conversations and grinning. Why do I keep running in this park? Why does he keep running in this park? Why is it suddenly important for me to know?

I knew I would be challenged in many ways when I took on the job, but I never imagined I’d become so fascinated not only with the aspects of campaigning, but with the candidate himself. He is a man who could, in less than a year, become our president. Knowledge about our country and a genuine understanding of how it works seeps from his pores.

I’m intensely curious to know more about his views, but it’s Matt who makes me most curious of all.



On lunch break, I hear that the news of Matt asking Rhonda to change the schedule to accommodate a request of mine seems to have not sat too well with some of the other female aides.

“You know, he’s never paid much attention to any of us.” Martha flips her hair, obviously annoyed.

“Matt and Charlotte’s families go back,” Alison says as I walk in.

“Oh?” She turns wide, questioning eyes my way.

“A little,” I hedge.

“Ah, so that’s why.” She seems relieved.

The energy in the room seems to shift, and all the attention flees from my way over to the door.

My eyes flick over to Matt when he stops by the small cafeteria section to pull out a bottle of water. He cracks it open, thoughtful as he looks at the group of women, then raises his head and sees me.

I smile and pass through the door and when my shoulder brushes his, my skin crackles heatedly.

Absently I brush my hand down my arm as I go back to my desk.

I’m going through my pile of letters when Carlisle stops by my desk.

“Matt wants you to be his new scheduler,” Carlisle says.

I start in surprise. “Me?”

“You’ll need to be open to traveling; we’ll be visiting all fifty states. It’s a good idea for there to be only one scheduler or else a ton of mix-ups can arise. Trust me—not fun to have something in New Hampshire an hour before you have something in San Francisco.”

I gape at him.

“Let’s run down what’s expected of you for the following months,” Carlisle begins.

I’m briefed in a six-by-six room on my duties as political scheduler.

“As our one and only scheduler, you’re to oversee Matt’s agenda for the entire campaign. You’ll have political aides and advance teams to organize, you’ll book his gym workouts, make sure the planes and buses are all stocked with essentials, organize the rallies and his every social and personal engagement for the rest of the year. We need a good balance among all his engagements. Do you think you can do that?”

My head is spinning, but I force myself to reply. “I . . . if Matt thinks I can, then I can,” I say bravely.

He shoots me a dire look. “Just to be clear, a scheduling mistake could cost us the whole campaign. Every minute and second must be accounted for. His father’s scheduler remained at headquarters during his campaign, but Matt wants a more hands-on approach.”

He seems concerned about my ability to do the job, so I nod more firmly than necessary.

“Rhonda will be on press coordination, but she can help if you get stuck in any part of the process; she’ll fill you in on any questions you might have.”

Matt comes in to see Carlisle, and when my arm brushes his as I pass through the door, my skin crackles heatedly.

I’m smoothing fingers over the tingling skin of my upper arm as I head to my table when Carlisle’s assistant approaches.

“Charlotte—” She points in the direction of the floor where Matt has his office. “You’ll be over here now, outside Matt’s office.”

I swallow, then start gathering my personal things, more determined than ever to make a difference and prove to myself that I can.





13





WARNING





Charlotte



It’s my first day as his official scheduler when I arrive at campaign headquarters the following Monday, step off the elevator, and immediately get to work.

I’m determined to impress and be as kick-ass as everyone on Team Hamilton is proving to be. Especially now that I’m his scheduler; there’s only one of me.

I’m trying to get into the meat of Matt’s most pressing things-to-do when Rhonda appears.

“How are we doing?” she asks me as she approaches.

“Great!” I grin, then spread out a few pages with scattered itineraries—it takes work to really oversee Matt’s schedule, not only because it’s his, but because it involves so many people. “I’m a bit concerned I’m losing some valuable time with the times it takes for the team to arrive by bus—I wonder if I shouldn’t make use of that time somehow for Matt.”

Rhonda drags a chair over and looks at the pages. Matt doesn’t want to plaster slogans across every town and city in the continental United States; he’s doing aggressive online campaigns with both personal opinions and proposed solutions. But even with the online campaign, his schedule is killer.