The Boss and His Cowgirl(57)

Clay clenched his teeth, but didn’t say anything. Was his father that crazy? Sympathy? He’d come off looking like a total jerk, not to mention that staying with Georgie was not up for debate. Loosening the fists he’d made, he didn’t back away. “Here’re my rules, old man. Don’t hire people for me if you don’t want them fired. I run my own campaign. I was in double digits the week after my announcement, with the package my team put together. I know what I’m doing.”

His father cut him off. “Coulda fooled me, boy. Spendin’ all your time with that woman. She’s dyin’, just like your mother. She’s bad news and only gonna mess you up. She can’t do any of her jobs—in your bed or out of it—and you’re thinkin’ with the wrong part of your anatomy when it comes to her.” Cyrus pushed past, headed for the door. “Get rid of her, Clay. Or I will.”

Disgusted, Clay headed after him, but was stopped when Cash grabbed his arm. “Don’t push him on this, Clay. You won’t like the consequences.”

He stared at his youngest brother and his voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “Is that a threat, Cashion?” He stepped closer, until they were eye to eye. “If you, or anyone else, so much as looks at Georgie wrong—”

Cash snarled, “You’re as bad as those two.” He jerked his thumb toward Cord and Chance. “Going soft over some woman. I never figured you to be this big a fool, Clay.”

His fist formed and he swung before he had any conscious awareness of his action, but the forward momentum was stopped when Cord grabbed his arm and Chance pushed Cash out of range.

“Get out, Cash.” Chance stared their brother down. “I don’t know what bee climbed up your butt, but we’re getting damn tired of it.” He manhandled Cash toward the door and pushed him out. He glanced toward Chase. “You have a clue what’s wrong with him?”

Chase just shook his head as Cord blew out a laugh with a wry grin. “Well, that could’ve been worse.”

Boone appeared in the doorway and tilted his head down the corridor. “It is.”

Clay stepped out in time to see Georgie disappearing into the elevator. “Did she hear?” At Boone’s nod, more than a few expletives escaped. He needed to fix this.

Chance rubbed his forehead. “This is my fault. I had Glen drive Georgie up to meet you here because I thought this meeting concerned the family trust. Had no idea the old man would ambush you. Call Glen, tell him to wait so you can go after her.”

Clay grabbed his phone but before he could call, Sylvia Camden appeared and snatched it.

“No time. You have to be at KWTV in twenty minutes for makeup. The interview with CBS was moved up.” She tucked Clay’s phone in her pocket. “She’ll be fine. She’s a professional. She needs some time to process. She knows how important these appearances are. Now come with me.”

Boone nodded in reluctant agreement. “Glen will take her home, get her settled. You can call her later, go down tomorrow after the donor dinner tonight. You have to make this appearance, cuz. You know that.”

Clay let himself be swayed. His head knew his team was right but his heart said they were so very wrong. He cared for her. Needed her. But a part of him also admitted having her home while he was on the stump was almost a relief. That didn’t make him his father. He wasn’t walking away from her. She needed treatments and rest and the healing being home could bring. Things would be fine. He’d see her tomorrow, hold her in his arms and remind them both of what they meant to each other. One more day wouldn’t matter. Or so he told himself.

* * *

That one more day had turned into two, and then more because the pressure of the campaign kept him away—at least that’s what he’d told himself. Then he’d flown to Miami for a fund-raising dinner and Giselle was there, looking cool and elegant, and...friendly. For the paparazzi. When he saw the stories and pictures, he’d called Georgie. She didn’t answer. He’d tried to call later but she’d blocked his number.

He’d finally dropped everything and come home to see her. He’d driven to her dad’s ranch, found her in the barn but when he tried to kiss her hello, Georgie pulled away from him.

“Don’t, Senator.”

“Senator? When did we go back to being so formal, sweet pea?”

“When I realized I’m a liability and just an employee. Only I’m not even that anymore. I quit.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, looking at him as haughty as an English duchess. “I’m not a starry-eyed girl anymore, Senator. You remember her, right? The one who lived in your campaign office. The one who moved to DC your second term and lived on ramen noodles so she could work for you. Yeah, she’s pretty much dead and gone now. So is the girl who got swept off her feet like some heroine in a romantic movie. What an idiot she was.”