Incumbent(12)

Grinning at me, he said, “Come on. Let’s go have some fun.”

Begrudgingly, I stowed my purse in a locker and headed to the field with Mason, where we rode ATVs for a couple of hours. He was right; I needed this.

We raced up and down hills, and I was having a blast until he decided to abruptly turn. I slammed on the brakes and my vehicle slid, the tires kicking up mud all over me before the engine stalled. If I hadn’t been wearing a helmet with a face guard, my mouth would have been filled with dirt and muck when I opened it to scream.

Mason tugged off his helmet and howled out a belly laugh at the sight of me.

I yanked off my helmet and narrowed my eyes at him. “You did that on purpose.” Shaking my head, I swiped at the mud caking my jeans, but only succeeded in making it worse.

He held a hand on his stomach as he tried to regain his composure. “Can you start it?”

When I turned the key, the engine just sputtered. Frustrated, I ran my tongue over my teeth. “It’s dead.”

He slid forward on his seat. “Hop on. I’ll take us back, and someone can come out here to pick it up.”

I swung my leg over and wrapped my arms around his muscular midsection, but it didn’t give me a thrill. Mason was a great-looking guy, but he was like the brother I never had, so there was no attraction between us. We might play the doting boyfriend or girlfriend role when someone came on to us and we didn’t want to be bothered, but that happened more often with him than me.

By the time we made it back to my apartment, our clothes were practically covered in mud stains. If I weren’t so annoyed at my jeans being ruined, I might have been able to look on the bright side. After all, I’d just saved money on having a mud bath at a spa, because I was doused from head to toe.

Mason’s hearty laugh as he picked grass out of my hair didn’t amuse me. All I could do was shake my head at him.

“I’m going to go shower. Are you staying or leaving?”

He raked a hand through his hair, which didn’t look as bad as mine, but it was still dirty. “Can I jump in the shower first since I’m quicker? Then I’ll order some food while you’re showering.”

The sound of my stomach rumbling resounded in the room. “Fine, but hurry. I’m gross, and I’m sure my skin is ready to flake off.”

When I heard the shower turn on, I went into my room to peel off my muddy clothes and slip into my robe. While I waited, I sat on the bed and glanced around my room. My bookshelf was full of historical novels and reference books, and my attention stalled on a picture I’d taken of the White House.

I couldn’t get in for a tour, but I’d leaned through the wrought-iron fence and taken a snapshot of the beautiful home on Pennsylvania Avenue. It had inspired me to think of the men and women who’d walked those halls, making crucial decisions regarding our country, and had raised their families there.

Of course, my thoughts went to Drake, and how prestigious and presidential he appeared. I could envision him sitting in the Oval Office, signing bills and meeting with dignitaries.

“Shower is yours,” Mason bellowed from down the hall. At least he knew what the plan was today and had brought a change of clothes for himself.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself as I made my way to the bathroom. Thoughts of a hot senator continued to invade my mind, and I tingled at the thought of him.

After stepping into the steaming spray, I leaned my forehead against the cold tile. Drake was everything I’d ever wanted in a man—smart, gorgeous, driven, and grounded. But it wasn’t meant to be. Someone like him could never be serious about a nobody like me; it didn’t happen outside of fairy tales.

A sigh escaped me as I pulled debris from my hair and began to wash my body.

After I was back to looking like a human rather than a piece of clay, I stepped out of the shower and dressed in sweatpants and a Northern Ridge T-shirt. The doorbell rang as I was blow-drying my hair.

“Mason,” I called out, “can you get that? It’s probably the delivery guy.”

I tipped my head over and quickly ran the blow dryer over my hair another minute. When it was mostly dry, I stepped into the living room and stopped dead in my tracks. Drake was standing in my doorway, holding a bag. My heart pounded as our eyes met.

Mason turned around and when he spotted me rooted to my carpet, he shrugged. “It isn’t the delivery guy.”

“I see that. Thank you.” I took a step toward them. “Drake, this is Mason. Mace, this is—”

He reached out and offered his hand to Drake. “I know who he is, Lucy.” They shook hands, and Mason laughed. “It’s good to meet you, Senator Prescott.”

Drake smiled. “Please, it’s just Drake, and it’s nice to meet you too.” Mason stepped aside to let him come in, and Drake stopped in front of me. “Hi, Lucy.”

When he said my name, an odd feeling passed over me. Not attraction or excitement; instead I felt oddly protected and safe.

When the smell of delicious food emanating from the bag he held gained my attention, I tilted my head at him in question.

“I brought you some dinner. It’s from my brother’s house. But I don’t want to intrude.” Drake’s brows lowered a fraction as he looked from me to Mason. Worry lines formed on his forehead.

“You’re not intruding. I just didn’t expect you.” I took the bag from his hand and unrolled the top to inhale the delicious aroma. “This smells wonderful. Thank you.”