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“You’re going to have to tell me what I’m supposed to do exactly.”

“What makes you think I have any idea? We’re just here to smile and look like we buy her bullshit. Oh. And that we’re in love,” Parker adds, looking up at me.

I gnaw on the inside of my bottom lip, counting six cameras beaming at his from the back of the auditorium. I lift my arm and snake it around Parker’s waist.

“What are you doing?”

Her voice sounds surprised, but her body feels easily relaxed.

I’m about to tell her I’m doing as I should—looking in love—but stop. That’s because entranced by the smell of Parker’s hair.

“You didn’t buy new shampoo yet?” I ask.

She freezes, as if she’s been caught red-handed, and stumbles over her words, embarrassed I’ve caught her still using my shampoo. “I keep forgetting. Yours smells nice though.”

I hope at least someone in this room has a camera on us right now. Because the smile on my face knowing that part of her likes smelling like me? It definitely does the job. It’s award winning.

I have to bite my tongue to avoid teasing her because the charter school’s principal has just introduced Candice, who is here to talk to a room full of teachers and parents.

“Isn’t it weird she’s campaigning without your dad?” I eye Massachusetts’s governor, watching on as Candice takes the podium and begin to speak.

“No,” Parker disagrees. “This way, no one can say he cares about the campaign more than he does America. He’ll show up only to the big things. Plus, she’s more approachable than him.”

There hasn’t been a day in my life I found Candice Montgomery approachable. Somehow, I’m not so sure that she knows how much a gallon of milk costs or how insane gas prices are. Neither do I though. If anyone in this room might be able to relate most to every day Americans, it’s Parker.

“When my husband was senator in this very state, school literacy rates soared among public school students, and do you know what subsequent studies later showed? That there was an increase in enrollment in higher education programs amongst high school diploma graduates. That’s because the Montgomery family has always understood that investing in education is something that benefits us all…”

I tilt my head against Parker’s. “Who’s going to tell the crowd that your mom and dad sent both their kids to private school?”

Parker’s cheeks puff as she stifles a laugh.

“I’m serious,” I hiss. “There isn’t a better talking point?

“Politicians are the world’s greatest bullshitters. You’d think she was the Montgomery, not my dad.” Parker sighs. “She’s built her entire image on being the people’s lady. Madeline told me that will be the title of her official biography whenever my father’s run ends. I suggested Wicked Witch of the West Wing , but that got vetoed.”

“The opposition often criticizes my husband’s enthusiastic budgeting when it comes to education. They’d rather see your tax dollars be funneled tightly into military contracts or spending you will never reap the benefit of in your lifetime,” Candice continues. “That’s because the value they place on children has a monetary limit. For my husband and me? It’s priceless.”

Parker’s body tightens against me.

“Their value knows no bounds, and with proper education, with intense funding of charter schools exactly like this, we’ll see a return on our investment in just a few years. A future president, after all, could be sitting in this very room…”

Parker seethes. “She’s so full of it.”

As the room erupts in applause, Candice holds out an arm, motioning for Parker. She squeezes my hand at her waist before moving to the center of the stage.

“They’ll just be doing a walkabout next.”

I turn, finding one of Candice’s aides. “A walkabout?”

“A walk from the school to a local coffee shop. We’ll depart from there in approximately forty minutes.”

The aide makes conversation, throwing numbers out at me, citing polls and counties, how the Montgomery campaign will be pounding the pavement in swing states in the next few weeks. I nod as if I understand as much I do an offensive spread.

“Fitz.”

I’m always happy when Parker says my name but never have I been more relieved because, damn, it’s hard to be a fish out of water. But I won’t lie. I’m also happy Parker not only waits for me, but holds out her hand for mine before I’m even in reach.

“This way. The hall is clear. Students are in the cafeteria for lunch,” someone says, as we follow Candice, the school’s principal, and the governor out of the auditorium. But clearly that’s not entirely the case.

“It’s Captain America!”

“Fitzy!”

In front of us, Candice turns her head, and I catch the narrowing of her eyes as Parker giggles at my side.

“Maybe you should run for president,” she says jokingly. “You could go with Vote for Fitz and let America’s Captain Lead the Ship .”

Another kid calls my name. I slow, but following the lead, don’t stop. Not until he holds up a phone. I never say no to kids if I can help it.

“Hey.” Stopping, I tap the agent at my side. “Can you take a photo for the kids?”

“Sir,” he says quietly. “It’s against protocol.”

Parker steps in front of me, and I watch how everyone freezes while she holds her hand out beyond the agent. “I’ll take it. Can I see your phone?”

There’s scrambling from inside the classroom as another three students appear in the doorway the agent now stands in front of. “Score!”

“You’re in the way,” Parker tells the agent who doesn’t stand down, but when I push past, doesn’t stop me either. “Get in the middle, babe.”

God damn, there she goes with the babe again.

Parker smiles curtly when the agent finally steps to the side and holds up the phone. “Okay. On three, say rebels .”

Tipping her chin up, she looks over the top of the phone at me and winks, and even though this photo will only be blasted on social media, looking at her as we ruffle some feathers brings another award-winning grin from me.

“Get over here,” I say to Parker, but apparently Governor Stetson thought I was inviting him. Thankfully, he stands on the side.

“How’s that for protocol?” Parker tosses the phone to the agent she had ordered to move out of the way and moves right in front of me.

I’m sure she’s smiling for the camera. But I bet the real reason is because she sees Candice’s face clearly behind it, painted with annoyance and disapproval.

“Thanks so much. Our team won’t believe this. They’re on second shift in the cafeteria. Do you guys want some cookies? We’re having a bake sale to raise money for new uniforms for the fall. Darryl”—he taps the guy next to him—“go run and get some for them.”

Parker takes another notebook one of them holds out and passes it to me to sign. “We happen to love cookies. Can we go see your spread?”

“Parker.” Candice’s voice is laced with a bite of tension.

“I’m always down for cookies,” I chime in.

Parker addresses Candice’s aide, who was talking to me earlier. “Fitz and I will hang here until the lunch period is done. Enjoy that walk.”

My eyes ping between Candice, the aides, and the few journalists who all look confused. The tension is so obvious. But what’s more obvious—what I know kills Candice—is how Parker doesn’t care. Not one bit.

“Which way is the cafeteria?” Parker asks.

Before I know it, we’re all following. Only, the formation now is different. These kids lead Parker, Governor Stetson, and me with the media trailing us. Bringing up the rear? Candice and her workhorses.

I’ve never imagined a school cafeteria could go silent. But it does when we walk in.

“This way.” One of the kids directs us outside, where tables line the side of the building. He calls out to one of his teammates for comped cookies, but Parker rejects the offer.

“We want to support your team,” she tells them, and before I know it, she slips her hand into my back pocket for my wallet.

I bite down on my lip before Parker’s hand slips from my ass.

“There’s more money deep in my front pocket.”

“Stop it. There are kids around,” she mumbles. But do you know what I see clearly? Her cheeks pinkening as she empties my wallet and drops the cash into one of the jars.

“Ma’am—”

We both turn, finding an agent with a tight smile. Just behind him is Candice, who mouths, Enough .

Apparently, that’s Parker’s trigger word. She opens her mouth to speak, but I take one for the team. I mean, what can they do? Fire me?

I roll up my sleeves. “You guys got a ball lying around?”

For the next twenty minutes, I run plays with my offense of second-string high school football players. I’m used to playing in front of tens of thousands of people. I’ve never been heckled harder than by these kids. Their laughs are great, sure, but there’s one person’s presence who makes this all worth it. It certainly isn’t Governor Stetson, who surprises me by catching a pass off his fingertips. It definitely isn’t Candice, who seems to be gritting her jaw so tightly she’s already secured tomorrow’s headache.

It’s Parker. Somehow it feels fitting that the first time she cheers me on during my professional career is in a high school on some soggy grass.

We’re forced out not by Secret Service but by the school bell shrilling, telling students it’s time to get to class.

“You know something, Fitzy? You don’t have to impress me,” Parker says as we walk into the parking lot hand in hand. “But you kind of are anyway. It’s a nice surprise.”

I flap open my sunglasses and slide them onto my face. “I’ve always been full of surprises. Maybe you just didn’t notice.”

Parker tugs on my hand, forcing me to a stop.

“What?” I ask, using my free hand to slide the glasses down the bridge of my nose so I can get a clear look at her, but Parker’s face is difficult to read, her light brown eyes clouded over and seemingly distant. “What’s wrong?”

Parker lets out a laugh that’s nothing more than a breathy sound between us. “Maybe you’re right,” she says. “Maybe I just didn’t notice.”

When she shakes her head, I swear it’s not to clear her vision but to shake the thoughts away, because her eyes remain sharp and focused.

Right on me.

And I do something I probably shouldn’t. I cup both her cheeks and dip down for a kiss even though I have no idea what kind of eyes we have on us, if anyone in the media convoy is paying attention. It’s short and to the point, but when I pull back and take in Parker’s face, I find it absent of shock or surprise, which I think might be a good thing.

It must be. Because Parker reaches up, grabbing one of my wrists and keeping my hand against her face for another moment. It happens to be a really great moment because the corners of her mouth circle upward.

“Ms. Montgomery, since the walkabout has been cancelled, you’ll ride with the First Lady.”

My hold on Parker’s face slips when she turns her head.

“I rode here with Fitz,” she announces to the agent. “I’ll go home with him too.”

I feel for my key.

“You’ll ride with the First Lady,” the agent repeats, holding out an arm and motioning.

I look over. Candice and her crew have already gotten into cars. Parker laces our fingers together.

I should like the way Parker tightens her hold and steps closer. But it’s impossible for me to enjoy. Not when I feel the hesitancy radiating off her body.

I press my lips to her temple. “Count to fifteen.” When I back away, Parker’s eyes meet mine before I raise my voice. “I’ll see you at home.”

I won’t lie. I hate that when our hands unlatch, there’s a flinch that vibrates off her fingertips. I unlock my car and take hurrying steps before sliding in and turning on the ignition. The motorcade waits ahead of me, a streaming line of SUVs. I give a gentle honk, clearing the agent from behind my space as I reverse out of it.

“Let me grab my bag.”

With my eyes on the rearview mirror, I watch Parker and pivot, coming toward me. The first two steps are slow, and I wonder if the agent whose side she left will catch on.

By the time he does, it’s too late.

I reach over and open the passenger door before Parker’s hand even touches it, and by the time it clicks shut, I’m reversing out of the parking lot, thanking myself I left the car closer to the exit.

“I told you.” Parker presses her head against the seat, turning to face me. The smile on her face is second only to the one she just had after I kissed her. “You don’t have to keep impressing me.”

Parker reaches across and takes my hand. I don’t have to tell her I’m not done yet. When she squeezes it and lets me rest it against my leg, I believe she knows.