For the Record (Record #3)(98)

Liz openly gaped at him. Where the hell had that come from?

“Thank you. We’ll take no more questions,” Clay said with a curt wave. He tucked Liz’s hand under his arm and then walked her away from the reporters.

When they were out of earshot, Liz finally found her voice. “What was that?”

“I believe I just defended your relationship with Brady to a particularly troubling reporter,” he answered.

“Yes. Thank you, but . . . what the hell was that, Clay?”

Clay shrugged and smiled down at her. He still had that uncanny amusement in his expression, but she saw that he was serious too. “What? I’m not completely heartless.”

“No. But you don’t agree with our relationship, and you certainly don’t believe in your brother.”

They stopped and Clay turned her to face him. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and a strange looked passed over his face. “Maybe someone proved me wrong.”

“Me?” she whispered.

“No someone else,” he said sarcastically. “Of course you. You’ve changed him. He loves you. There’s an . . . energy between you that is hard to explain, but it’s there. It’s obvious to everyone who knows him. And maybe . . . just maybe it makes me see what you had been telling me all along. Maybe he’s actually in this for the right reasons.” He paused and glanced off into the distance. “And not just because our father wanted it for him and not me.”

Liz felt for an instant as though she finally understood Clay. She could see his life stretched out before him. The second brother with Brady the prodigal son, the golden boy always one step ahead. Maybe he had even once wanted to become a politician. Maybe he had wanted to become president, but his father had encouraged Brady. And Clay’s love for both politics and Brady had hardened with time. What would become of the man now that it was finally thawing?

Clay kissed her forehead softly at her clear astonishment. “Be good to him. He needs you.”

And then he walked away.

“What was that about?” Brady asked when he appeared at her side a minute later.

“Nothing. Clay just told a reporter off for degrading our relationship and basically endorsed you for Congress.”

It was Brady’s turn to look startled. “Are we talking about my brother still?”

Liz smiled and nodded. “He loves you. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”

Brady seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Well . . . I suppose at least we have that in common.”

“You have a lot more in common than I think you’ll ever realize.”

“Well, I’m thankful I have you to realize that for me.”

“I’m always going to be here,” she told him.

“I sure hope so, or else I’m going to need my ring back,” he joked.

Liz slapped her hand over the ring. “You can’t have it.”

He grabbed her firmly around the middle and kissed her lips feverishly. “Good. You’re mine?”

“Always.”

He brushed his nose against hers. “It’s worth it?”

“You’re worth everything,” she whispered.

Chapter 32

BRADY

Every Election Day morning growing up, Brady would wake up super early with his family. He would dress with care in what his mother had put out for him the night before. She would make sure he looked presentable, and then the whole family would pile into his father’s Mercedes and he would drive them to the polls.

As a child, Brady remembered liking it more than Christmas, even without the presents. The months of anticipation leading up to this one big momentous day for his entire family brought them all closer than they ever were. And every other year, when his dad came home victorious once more, they celebrated—just the four of them, and then when Savannah was born all five of them—before his father went to all the necessary parties.

When Brady got older, he thought that the ritual might diminish—that he would enjoy Election Day less, since it really was so much work, but the small moments with just his family were unlike anything else. As time passed, Clay helped and participated only begrudgingly, and as they grew further and further apart so did Clay’s love of the election. Clay saw it as a duty, whereas it remained to Brady a gesture of love and devotion.

Brady remembered the first time that he walked into the voting booth after his eighteenth birthday. He cast his ballot for his father and knew as he had known his whole life that there was nothing else for him. Politics was what he loved more than anything—his greatest joy from his childhood and his deepest ambition as an adult.

All of that had changed with the entrance of Liz into his life. He had never thought that anything could replace his dreams of becoming president. When he had fallen for her, he had fought tooth and nail to keep his life exactly how it was. But he couldn’t do that with Liz. Without even meaning to, politics slid down a spot, and she became his number one priority.

Liz was still sleeping when he woke up on Election Day. Her bare chest was pressed firmly against him and her head nuzzled his shoulder. An ache throbbed in his groin at the sight of her nearly naked in his bed. Exactly where she belonged.

He was seeing the spark of a new Election Day tradition.

“Baby,” he growled into her ear. He ran his hand demandingly down her side, under the covers, and onto her thigh. She roused softly and he felt himself harden further as her body moved against him.