Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
In other words, total bullshit.
I duck out of the kitchen, bringing the phone to my ear. “Tessa, hey.”
“Will!” she chirps, far too enthusiastic for this early in the morning. “I’m sorry to call before nine on a Saturday, but I’m in Boston right now, and I’ll only be here until noon. I was hoping to drive out to Hastings for a quick chat. Do you have some time in the next couple hours?”
Curiosity creases my forehead. “Yes, I do. As long as it’s soon. We have a game later, so I need to be at the rink this afternoon.”
“It’ll be quick,” she assures me. “If I head out now, I can be at your place in about an hour?”
“My place? You don’t want to meet at the diner or something?”
“I’d prefer not to. Wouldn’t mind some privacy for this discussion.”
Well, color me intrigued.
After we hang up, I return to the kitchen, where Beckett’s dad is now asking Charlotte if she would divorce him for taking a job without her permission.
“Who was on the phone?” Beck catches my eye as he sips his coffee.
“Tessa Diaz, that journalist from Capitol Magazine. She wrote the profile on me in the fall.”
“Right. Your dad’s mouthpiece.”
“She’s coming by in an hour. Says she has something to discuss with me.”
Slugging back the rest of my coffee, I walk to the sink and drop my cup in it, then head for the hall.
“Gonna grab a shower before she gets here,” I say over my shoulder.
In the shower, as hot water courses down my face and chest, I wonder what the hell my dad’s cooked up this time. Because there’s no other reason Tessa would be calling me out of the blue, wanting to chat.
We already did a puff piece, though. So this follow-up, or whatever it is, must have some sort of an angle, some new way to cram me further into the mold he’s crafted for me.
An hour later, Tessa rings my doorbell, all smiles and bright eyes as I let her in. She’s dressed in dark jeans and a thick blue parka with a fur hood, and I greet her with a handshake, trying to match her enthusiasm even as every instinct tells me to be wary.
Rather than remove her winter gear, she nods at the front door. “How about we go for a walk and chat? I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.”
“Sure.”
Grabbing my own coat, I shove my feet in my boots and pull a pair of gloves on. The morning air has a bite to it as we head down the sidewalk. It’s fucking cold out, but Tessa doesn’t seem to mind it.
“So what’s on your mind?” I ask, stuffing my gloved hands into my pockets and wishing I brought a hat.
She gives me a sidelong look. “I’m going to be blunt, Will. I have a proposition for you.”
“Okay?”
“I’m leaving the magazine.”
My eyebrows soar. “Really? What happened to paying your dues?”
“It’s not necessarily a permanent leave. We’re calling it a leave of absence for now, but it depends on how the campaign pans out.” She grins at my puzzled look and continues. “I’ve been offered a position on Harper Wozniak’s staff as a campaign speechwriter.”
“Oh. Cool. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. I’m excited about it.” She smiles at me, a teasing gleam in her dark eyes. “I want you to come with me.”
I stop dead in my tracks, turning to face her. “What?”
“There’s an open position on the staff. Assistant to Pamela Kerry, Wozniak’s campaign manager. I floated your name out for it, and Pam said the job is yours if you want it. No interview necessary.”
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
This is the last thing I expected to hear this morning, and now my mind is racing, trying to remember what I know of Harper Wozniak. Her name sounds familiar, but I can’t figure out why.
“Is she my father’s opponent in the primary?” I ask, frowning.
Next fall will be the first time in more than a decade that someone is primarying my dad, which is another reason he’s been so up my ass about maintaining the perfect “image.” Over the holidays, he was ranting and raving like a lunatic about it. How dare someone in his own party try to push him out! The nerve! I thought he was going to have an aneurysm.
“No,” Tessa replies. “That’s Sandra Donaldson. Harper’s running in another district. With that said, she’s not a fan of your father’s. She’s been quoted in the press criticizing your father’s policies before.”
“And you want me to, what, switch sides? Work for a lady who’s against my father?”
“I think you’d really like Harper. I sat down with her for three hours the other day talking through her positions and everything she’d like to get done. And it lined up with everything you and I talked about during our interview. In fact, she reminded me so much of you that I flew to Boston just so I could do this in person.” Tessa smiles ruefully. “I had a feeling you’d need a lot of convincing and that my sunny disposition might win you over.”