That sound makes me hard as a rock. My cock immediately springs to attention under my tuxedo, and I slide my hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her hair as I turn her face toward mine. I’m very nearly about to crush her lips under mine, when there's a knock on the door.
Fuck. I think I groan the word aloud.
"Ma'am, the President and –"
The Secret Service agent barely finishes what she's saying before a woman pushes her way inside the door. "Grace, your Mom and Dad are –"
Grace jumps away from me like she's been shocked by electricity, clearing her throat loudly. "Vi, this is Noah Ashby. Noah Ashby, this is Vi Scott."
"Oh," Vi says, smiling as she looks between us. She makes no attempt to hide it when she checks me out, her arms crossed over her chest as her eyes trail down the length of my body. When her gaze reaches my pants, tented by my obvious erection, she raises her eyebrows and grins. "Ohhh."
"Vi, this is not what it looks like –" Grace starts.
"Oh, please. I hope this is exactly what it looks like,” Vi says, rolling her eyes. “You – Boob Guy. Good work with that. She hasn’t gotten to second base in a long time. She’s practically a nun.”
“Vi!” Grace exclaims.
“Oh, yeah, one other thing. Your parents are right behind me, Grace.”
"Gracie, your mother and I are –" the President's voice booms as he enters the room, and it's a good thing Grace's friend barged in just a second before, causing my boner to rapidly deflate, because meeting the President of the United States while sporting a hard-on isn't one of the things on my bucket list. "Noah Ashby."
"Mr. President." Fucking hell, the President of the United States knows my name? I might not like the guy – he’s always had kind of a smarmy, self-important air about him, with all his preaching about family values – but I’ll admit that I’m a little star-struck right now.
He looks back and forth between me and his daughter, his brow furrowing for only a second before his face brightens in an affable smile. "That was a hell of a game you played at the end of last season.”
"Thank you, sir." I think I remember hearing that the President was a big football fan, but it’s a completely different experience hearing the President congratulate you personally.
"Shame about the last quarter.”
“Yes it was, Mr. President.”
“You’re working with Grace’s foundation, isn’t that right?” he asks. Beside him, the First Lady gives me a cool stare.
“I’ve donated my ranch for one of the summer programs.”
“That’s fantastic. I’m always impressed when athletes are willing to get personally involved in charities, especially when they’re such good ones.” The way he says it, I’m not sure he even knows what the cause is. “I’m sure the kids are going to be thrilled to have you working with them one on one.”
One on one? That’s a big assumption. Kids and I don’t exactly get along. “Oh, I don’t -”
“He’s donated his ranch,” Grace says. “I'm sure Mr. Ashby doesn't have the time to be personally involved in the actual session at the ranch, especially since it’s two weeks away.”
The First Lady puts her hand on the President’s arm. “Just because our daughter insists on camping with children every summer doesn’t mean that everyone has the inclination to do the same. I’m sure you have plenty of summer training to do, don’t you, Mr. Ashby?”
She smiles at me, but her voice is unmistakably chilly. I get the distinct impression that she’s doesn’t like the fact that she and the President walked in on her daughter and I in this room alone, and it irritates me.
That’s the only possible explanation I have for why I say what I say next. I’ve never taken kindly to people telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, and the fact that this woman seems bent on discouraging me from being near her daughter only makes me want to do it more - even if she's the First Lady.
“Actually, I've been looking for opportunities to be more directly involved in charitable organizations," I say, my voice even. "In fact, I really enjoy being hands-on."
Grace’s friend Vi hides a smile behind her hand even as Grace's face pales.
10
Grace
"Noah Ashby would be a good celebrity endorsement," my father notes not less than a minute after Noah walks out of the room. My cheeks still feel like they're on fire after the lingering glance Noah gave me before he left - the look I hope my parents didn’t catch. Of course, Vi did, which is why she’s giving me a wide-eyed meaningful stare from across the room. I know that expression – that's Vi's "we so need to talk about this right away" look.
"He would," Vi says, raising her eyebrows as she looks at me again. "You should talk to him about that, Grace."
"Me?" I squeak. "I don't think that –"
"I’m sure you’ll be working with him closely, since he’s involved with the charity,” my father says.
“Very closely,” Vi says, and I give her my best glare of fury.
My mother narrows her eyes at us, but my father is completely oblivious, preoccupied with the campaign. “Endorsements from professional athletes play well with a younger crowd."
"But you already have the Colorado vote sewn up," I protest. "You won the primary by a landslide. You don’t need a celebrity endorsement. Besides, you don't even know his political affiliation. He might not be a Sullivan supporter.”
"More votes never hurt," my father reminds me. "His political affiliation is irrelevant. You know as well as I do that endorsements are purchased. Everyone has a price, and I want to know his.”
As soon as my father speaks the words, I know he’s made up his mind. He’s already decided that Noah Ashby is going to be at the ranch, and there’s no changing my father’s mind once he’s made a decision.
My mother purses her lips. "I don't think she'll necessarily be working with him that closely with the charity," she interrupts. "And he'd need to be vetted before an endorsement, of course. If any sort of scandal is attached to his name…"
Vi snorts. "You're joking, right?"
"Pardon?" my mother asks, her lips pursed again, her tone practically saturated in disdain. She's never liked Vi, not even when Vi's father and mine worked together in Colorado. Vi is well aware of that, which is why she enjoys pushing my mother's buttons.
"If there's a scandal attached to his name?" Vi asks, clearly determined to get under my mother’s skin by pointing out how my father has already decided that I’m going to be working with someone who’s the exact opposite of the kind of man my mother wants me to date. "Noah Ashby isn't exactly a choirboy."
"See? Scandal. He's out," my mother tells my father. "Your entire platform is based on old-fashioned family values. Any whiff of a scandal would taint the campaign."
"What kind of scandal?" I ask before I even realize I'm speaking, my curiosity immediately overruling any common sense I have. I shouldn’t care about Noah Ashby’s scandals, I tell myself. I don’t care, because I’m not the least little bit interested in the professional football player.
Not at all.
Besides, I’m sure he hasn’t done anything as scandalous as my neighbor Aiden and his public nudity. That makes two men I’ve met recently who are definitely not choirboys.
Two men who make my heart race.
Two men I shouldn’t be the least bit interested in.
"Nothing terrible," Vi says. "No drugs or anything like that."
"Domestic violence?" my mother asks.
"No. Adolescent male behavior. Streaking, boozing, that kind of thing."
"So that's adolescent male behavior now?" Despite the seriousness of the conversation, I can’t refrain from teasing Vi, who was infamous for leading our high school senior class in streaking through the library.
Always the mature adult, Vi sticks her tongue out at me.
"We'll vet him first," my father decides, dismissing everyone's concerns with a quick wave of his hand. "Isn't he up for contract renew
al?"
My father asks the question casually, as if he doesn't know the answer. It’s one of my father’s tricks – the casual question. In reality, my father never asks a question he doesn’t already know the answer to. He’s an avid football fan. He clearly already knows everything about Noah Ashby without any of us telling him a thing.
"What does that matter?" presses my mother.
"If he's up for renewal, he has to play it straight. Everyone loves a redemption story. Grace will be working with him. Run it by him, will you, Grace?"
It's not a suggestion or a question. It's a direct order from the Commander in Chief. I clear my throat. "Yes, Dad.”
Working closely with Noah Ashby? I don’t know whether to be excited or terrified.
"Speaking of redemption stories," my mother interrupts, “you really need to be seen with someone appropriate during the campaign season, Grace. People are starting to wonder if you're a lesbian, and a lesbian daughter doesn’t poll well with voters.”
“You took polls on my sexuality?” I ask, utterly appalled. I don’t know why I’m surprised in the least. Nothing my parents do when it comes to campaigning should surprise me anymore.
"Well, there was that time in boarding school…" Vi jokes. I throw her an icy look.
"What people are wondering this?" I ask, my voice frosty. "I don't see why I need to date someone because of the campaign. I didn't date anyone during the first one."
"You're older now, dear. I have a few candidates. I'll leave their files with Brooks. And be nice when they call you."
"Mom," I start. "Mother. I am not dating someone just because –"
"Gracie, we need to run," my father interrupts, looking at his Blackberry. He steps close to me and kisses my cheek. "Humor your mother, okay? She’s really asking out of concern for you. She just doesn't want you to die alone."
"Thanks a lot, Dad," I mutter. "I'm sure that's the reason."
"Don't be caustic, Grace," my mother says. "It doesn’t suit you.”
When my parents have left the room, Vi waits approximately two seconds to turn to me, her eyes wide. "So… Noah Ashby."
I shrug and muster the most innocent-looking expression I can. "What about him?"
"Oh, please. Don't play coy. I know you. You have the same look on your face right now that you had when you crushed on Jared Caulder in tenth grade."
"I do not!"
"You do, and you're just as defensive as you were then. Grace and Noah, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S—"
"Oh, shut it, Vi. You're as bad as my mom."
"Mother," Vi corrects, laughing. "Don't ever call her Mom."
"I sometimes forget how insufferable she is since I don't see her that often anymore."
"I can't believe you just compared me to her."
"You're right. I feel like a bad person."
"You're a terrible person," Vi agrees. "But look at you, you big hussy.”
"Vi!" I squeal.
"Two hot men after the President's daughter," Vi says with a wistful sigh. "Which one will she choose?"
"There are no men after me," I protest. "And there's no choosing going on."
"You're right. I can't say they're both hot without verifying this for myself. Personally. I thought Noah Ashby was your neighbor, but now I'm intrigued. I'll need to check out Naked Bongo Guy for myself."
"That's exactly what I need," I say, laughing. "You sitting on my balcony with a pair of binoculars and a tub of popcorn."
"Screw the popcorn - too many carbs. I'd have a bottle of wine."
"You realize wine has carbs too, right?"
"Alcohol carbs don't count."
"I don't think you're nutritioning correctly."
"I think you should have them both.”
“Wine and popcorn?” I ask.
“That too. But no, I think you should do them both,” Vi states, matter-of-factly, like we're talking about two glasses of wine and not sleeping with two men.
I choke. "I'm not doing either of them."
"Oh, honey. Noah looked at you like you were a piece of steak and he was a hungry lion."
"He did not."
"He did," she assures me. "But the way you looked at him put that to shame. It's the same look you get talking about Naked Bongo Guy, for your information."
"I'm not doing anyone," I reiterate, looking in the mirror on the wall to push my hair back into place. "There will be no doing."
"There's been no doing for how long now?" Vi asks. "Five years?"
"It's only been two years!"
"Dear God, two years?! I was only kidding about five years. I thought it had been six months, maybe. But two years?? Did you take a vow of celibacy that I'm not aware of?"
"No," I say, suddenly defensive. "I just… it's… you know it's hard to date anyone."
Vi arches an eyebrow. "It ain't that hard to get laid, honey."
"I… don't have the same kind of freedom that you have, Vi," I protest. Sometimes I wish I did. Okay, a lot of times I wish I did. The children of governors or senators or congressmen don't exactly have the same kind of public scrutiny as the daughter of the President. Of course, I don't know that public scrutiny would change anything for Vi. She lives her life the way she wants to live it and makes no apologies for it. It's something I've always envied her for.
"I know, darling," Vi says, her face softening. "But two years?"
"It's hard to meet someone," I argue. "No one wants to date the President's daughter except men who want to climb the political ladder –"
"By climbing you," Vi interrupts, wiggling her eyebrows.
"Exactly. Or guys who are more into my father than me."
"Or the guys your mother chooses," Vi says, laughing.
I can't help but laugh with her. "They're the worst."
"You should go out with Noah Ashby," Vi says. "And your neighbor."
"I couldn't," I protest. "You're the one who said Noah was surrounded by scandal."
"Well, he's also going to be surrounded by you at his ranch," Vi interjects. "Specifically, surrounded by your legs when you –"
I hold my hand up. "Yeah, I got the picture."
"When he bangs you," Vi finishes anyway.
"I'm not banging him or the neighbor. I'm not seeing either of them. I don't even know how to do that. See two guys at the same time? Isn't that weird?"
"Well, you see, when a woman and two men really care about each other, or they get really drunk, sometimes one takes her from behind and the other –"
"Violet Anne Marie Scott," I interrupt. "I can't believe you just said that. I was not talking about a… a…"
"Threesome?"
"A…" My voice drops to a whisper. "Yes. A threesome."
Vi sighs. "Oh, to be sandwiched between two attractive, muscular men. A girl can dream."
"I can't believe you just said that," I gasp.
The strange thing is that, as scandalized as I am by Vi even joking about a threesome with Noah and Aiden, the thought keeps popping into my head the rest of the evening, even as I make my final rounds in the event, making small talk and thanking donors.