"Okay." With a last squeeze, she disappeared into the house.
"Think they'll be back?" Mia asked.
"Doubt it. They're true bullies. Once someone stands up to them, they go away looking for another victim. I don't think they'll bother Chloe again."
"Good. I must say on a personal note, all that male assertiveness was quite sexy."
His blue eyes darkened with intention. In seconds, his mouth was inches from hers, that delicious smirk resting on his full lips. "Sexy enough to get naked with me tonight?"
"Maybe." She licked her lips with anticipation.
"How do I up my odds to one hundred percent?"
She whispered the words against his mouth. "Bring a cupcake with you and feed it to me. Naked."
He growled, lowered his head, and kissed her.
And everything was suddenly perfect.
Mia leaned forward, pressing the blanket against her mouth in a feeble attempt to smother her cry of anguish. Her gaze was trained on the television. Her fingers gripped Ethan's as she silently prayed it wouldn't happen. It couldn't. It would be too horrible to witness. After all, this was a children's movie.
That's when Mufasa--the lion father--tumbled down the cliffs to his violent death.
"No!" she cried out, jumping up from the couch. Ophelia fumbled for the remote and hit the "Pause" button. Mia gazed at her in furious betrayal, even as she noted the woman's tears. "This is wrong on too many levels. Tell me he didn't die. Tell me he's hiding and will appear later in the movie, or I refuse to watch another second."
Chloe giggled. How could she possibly have such a casual attitude after such a tragedy? "He's dead, Mia. But you have to watch the rest. Simba gets revenge and justice is served and it's all about the circle of life."
"I don't like the circle of life, and I hate this movie. Moana was so much better! No one died except the grandmother, and that's totally acceptable due to her age!"
Ethan's lips twitched, but he squeezed her hand in sympathy. "I know, sweetheart. I warned you, but you were insistent you wanted to see The Lion King. Will more popcorn help? Another glass of wine?"
"I can't do it. I'm never going to sleep tonight after that scene. How is this a fun family night?"
Harper laughed, unfolding her lean length from her position on the floor. "Ah, the poetry of pain and pleasure, life and death, good and bad. It's epic, ain't it?"
"Stop making fun of her," Ophelia said. "Maybe you forgot how you bawled so hard over Bambi, Mom had to call the doctor to see if she could give you half a sedative?"
Harper stuck out her tongue and disappeared into the kitchen.
"I can turn it off," Ethan offered. "Just say the word, and we'll be watching Miss Sloane or Our Brand Is Crisis."
Her heart melted a bit. Two movies about strong women in the PR and political environment fighting for their clients. He really did get her.
"No, I can do this." Mia blinked, trying to get herself back in control. If they could watch Disney movies without losing it, she'd rise to the challenge. Besides, she really did have to see Scar brought to justice. "I want that damn lion to pay for what he did."
"There's my girl." Ethan tucked her back into his shoulder, his arm around her in an almost protective gesture.
"You'll like how Simba gets revenge," Chloe said. Jumping up from her post next to Harper, she resettled next to Mia on her other side. The scent of watermelon Sour Patch Gummies drifted around her in odd comfort. The girl stretched out, crossed her ankles, and pressed against her shoulder. "But I think you'll still get upset at this particular scene later. I can get more tissues if you need it."
A lump settled in her throat. A rush of fierce emotions shook through her at the innate care the girl showed her. Snuggled between Ethan and Chloe, she realized how important they had both become to her--how treasured she felt in their presence.
God, how she loved them.
She squeezed both of their hands. "I'm ready now. Hit the 'Play' button, Ophelia."
The movie began to play again, but this time she knew it would all be okay.
Chapter Twenty-Four
"Mia, I need you back in the city with me ASAP."
Jonathan regarded her with a serious intensity and a nervousness she hadn't glimpsed before. He'd arrived just a few hours ago, and though he shared a warm hug with his daughter, their conversation hadn't delved into any of the uncomfortable subjects yet. He'd only brought Bob this time, and he greeted Ophelia and Harper with genuine warmth, thanking them for what they'd done for Chloe this summer.
Ethan hadn't shown up yet.
"Has something happened?" she asked with concern. She'd been keeping a tight rein on his social media, and her assistant was in constant contact. Bob gave her regular detailed reports. Things have been going smoothly, and the polls showed Jonathan as the clear front-runner with a comfortable margin.
"No, but we're in the home stretch, and this is commonly when disaster can strike. I want Chloe where I can keep an eye on her, and I need you back in your office, where I have constant access. I'd like you there for the governor's charity ball this week. He's a supporter, and it's a great opportunity for press. I want to leave in the morning."
She'd expected it, and though Jonathan couldn't tell her what to do--he was only one of her clients--he was the most important and needed her full attention. She'd never forgive herself if she extended her time with Ethan only to screw up the election.
Ethan.
His name brought a series of shivers. Last night, they'd made love for hours and talked about the future. They'd decided they wanted to be together, but the problem always came down to geography. Her life was in the city, and his was here. He craved a quieter setting, and she was consistently thrust into the limelight with her clients and chaotic work life. Nothing was solved except how they felt about each other.
Mia nodded, ignoring the pang of loss in her gut. "I agree. I'll make arrangements to leave tomorrow and attend the ball. But Jonathan, you have to talk to Chloe. She's made some decisions of her own, and I think you should listen."
His brow arched. "We'll have time to sort it out after the election. NYU is a good choice for her."
"I've watched her grow and change this summer. She needs a chance to do things on her own, and she desperately needs your support. She's so happy here. If you rip her away and put her in a school she doesn't choose because of your own personal reasons, I'm afraid something will break between you. She needs to feel like she's your primary concern, not the election."
He frowned. "She's my daughter, Mia. She always comes first, but sometimes the right decision isn't the most popular." He tunneled his fingers through his hair and regarded her with frustration. "You think this is easy on me? I hate playing the bad guy. I know you've said she's changed this summer, but all I see is a young girl who fell into the wrong crowd and had no one to rely on. If she's close by, I can help."
"Did you ever consider that she needs to be on her own to figure things out? To find herself and who she wants to be in this world?"
Regret flashed in his eyes. "She lost her mother and made bad choices in an attempt to stop the pain. I'm worried about her. I want to be a bigger part of my daughter's life--but I just have to get through this damn election. Then we can figure things out together. Does that make sense?"
Her heart softened at the evident love for his daughter warring with his political aspirations. "I understand. Just promise me you'll let her say her piece and really consider it. Working on the farm has changed her." She paused, pinning him with her gaze. "It's changed all of us."
He nodded. "I will. I can't thank you enough for taking care of her, Mia. I know I haven't told you, but there's no other person in the world I would've trusted with my daughter." His eyes held a touch of regret. "I know I can act like an asshole. I know you may think I only care about winning, and sometimes, I wonder if you're right. I wonder if I'm making a huge mistake by putting everything I have into helping a city--or event
ually, a world--that may not care. I just want you to know I question myself more than you know. If this whole thing really is worth it."
It was the lost look on his face that made the memory strike. A memory she knew it was time to share. "Do you ever wonder why I took you on as a client?"
His laugh held a touch of arrogance. "Because I could make your career?"
She grinned. "Actually, no. I was intent on never taking on a political client I couldn't believe in. To be honest, I'd looked at some other potential clients before, but I was always disappointed. I found lies and greed. I found things that I couldn't be a part of, not after what happened to my father."
He waited for her to finish with a patience that she'd always admired. He'd never been one to rush over someone else in the need to talk louder or make his opinion count more.
"I kind of stalked you for a few days. Wanted to get an idea of the person you were outside of the office, when no one was looking. I needed to be sure I wanted to represent you. One night you were coming home from court. You were heading toward Times Square, dressed in your suit and tie and some nice cashmere coat. I remember it was cold and rainy--one of those typical New York winter evenings that cuts through your bones and makes you wish you could book a ticket to a Caribbean island."
She watched him frown, as if searching for the memory she remembered so clearly. "You passed a homeless person with a dog. Nothing unusual, we pass them every day. There's so many of them; sometimes you feel as if you've helped enough, then sometimes you feel sick that you passed one and could've made a small difference. I didn't think anything of it, but you suddenly stopped, backed up, and knelt down in front of that man."
She saw the scene unfolding in her mind. The small cardboard sign drawn in slanted black marker. HOMELESS. PLEASE HELP FEED MY DOG. The way human and canine hunched together to battle the cold. The way Jonathan had laid a hand on the dog, on the man's shoulder, and had seemed to talk to him.
"You got up and went to the hot dog vendor and bought five of them. You gave three to the man and two to the dog. And then you took off your coat and wrapped it around them."
Jonathan nodded slowly. "I remember now. There are so many who need help. They won't go to the shelter because it's safer on the streets."
"Another one of your platform promises you want to change. But you did something right then and there, Jonathan. You gave him what you had, and there were no cameras or people watching. No Facebook live feed or viral news for that evening. It was just you and the person you were. And after that, I called your office and said I'd take you on as a client. Because I knew, for sure, that you would make a difference."
They stared at one another for a while, emotion crackling in the air. Then he smiled, nodding his head. "I'll talk to Chloe. I can't promise anything, but I'll try to listen."
"Thank you, Jonathan."
"No, Mia. Thank you. For everything." He disappeared and Mia dragged in a breath. She could only hope he heeded her advice. But now she needed to have her own heart-to-heart with the man she loved.
And explain why she had to leave.
Ethan knew immediately Mia was leaving him.
Her beautiful face looked haunted; those whiskey eyes were filled with an anguish he intended to soothe. She'd spent the night in his arms, and there was only one truth that mattered: they loved each other. But right now, she had to focus on her career and needed to be in the city, giving her all. God knows, he understood that type of passion--and he had no right to ask her to stay on an isolated horse farm in a small town and run local Facebook pages. She was meant for so much more than that.
How many times had he asked himself if he could live in Manhattan to be with her? But now that he'd begun working with Phoenix, he realized part of his soul belonged here. He wanted to start a riding group with the local vets in the area, and he had just begun research. He was excited about Phoenix and had dedicated himself to working with him long term. With his PTSD, the idea of being surrounded by tall buildings, chaos, loud noises, and boots on pavement rather than fresh earth, crippled a piece inside him.
He wasn't ready to make that leap, and neither was she.
So he had to let her go.
He stepped out of his bungalow to meet her. They stared at each other for a few moments, acknowledging what was about to happen, and then he opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace.
He breathed in the fresh coconut scent of her hair, relished the sleek, sun-warmed length of her body fit perfectly to his. His hands traveled every curve he'd memorized with his lips and tongue and touch. And he realized this woman had healed him, with her fiery passion and kind heart and stubbornness.
Her voice drifted to his ears like a wisp of smoke. "I have to leave."
"I know."
"I don't want to."
He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I know."
She tipped her head back, a smile curving her lips. "Who are you, Han Solo?"
He laughed. And though his heart ripped apart at the idea of her gone from his bed and his daily routine, he recognized what a gift she'd given him this summer. "No. Because I have no problem saying I love you, Mia. But right now, you have an election to win."
She blinked furiously, a damp sheen evident in her eyes. "Damn you. Why do you have to be so reasonable?"
"I won't be tonight."
She caught the intention, and the fierce sexual energy crackled between them. He lifted her up and kissed her, taking his time savoring the taste of rich wine and sweet honey, diving deep and demanding everything.
And she gave it.
"I want to talk to Lake," he murmured against her mouth. "Then I want you in my bed."
She trembled but her smile was full of her usual sass. "You better be ready to keep me there a long time, horse man."
"Princess, you better be ready to beg for mercy."
She nipped at his bottom lip, turned on her heel, and winked. "Then get your ass in gear. 'Less talking, more action,' I've always said."
He laughed and followed her to the inn.
An hour later, Ethan found Lake on the porch holding a beveled glass filled with whiskey. The man stared into the darkness, his features shadowed with melancholy. Usually Ethan wouldn't interrupt, but it was important to say his piece. When they'd arrived at the inn, shouts could already be heard echoing from the window, and Mia decided to take a walk with him to give Lake the privacy they needed.
Ethan guessed the talk hadn't gone so well.
"Mind if I join you for a quick drink?"
Lake looked up, obviously shaken from his thoughts. His face smoothed out to a politician's expression, giving nothing away. "Of course. Ophelia was generous enough to share the good stuff. I love a good aged bourbon."
"Me too." He poured a glass for himself and settled into the wicker chair next to Lake. "You and Chloe leaving tomorrow?"
His voice came out hard. "Yes. It's for the best. I know she loved working here for the summer, but it was forced community service. I gave her a chance to try things on her own, and now she has to come back where I can keep an eye on her."
"You know she didn't vandalize the car, right?"
Lake nodded, pondering his drink. "Yes, she finally told me. Explained her motives. I should've known it didn't make sense and prodded more. That's not the daughter I know."
"You can't know what she doesn't tell you. I think she's learned to be more open, though. I know for a fact she's made up for her mistakes. She really pulled her weight around here."
Lake looked up, curious. "She really liked working with the horses, huh? Funny, her mom was a huge animal lover. Not me. Always preferred the city, but her mother was a country girl at heart. She moved from Kentucky when she was young. She also loved horses, but we never introduced Chloe to riding."
"She has a gift," Ethan said simply. "I've watched her work with some of the skittish horses, and she's brought them around. It's not an easy task, and most don't have the skills to communicate on that
level with a horse. In fact, I wanted to let you know she always has a job here. A real paying job, not volunteer work. She proved her worth. My sisters also liked having her around. She was good company."
"Yes, they said. Chloe expressed how badly she wanted to stay here for another semester. Finish out the year to show me how she can turn things around. But I think NYU is the right answer for both of us. I don't want her around those kids if they decide to give her trouble. And I'll be able to regularly check on her and assign a team to watch her in the city. She'll be safe."
"And so will the election."
Lake shot him a look. "Judging me for my parenting skills, Bishop?"
Ethan sat back in the chair and took a sip of his drink. "No. I'm not a father. I've never been faced with decisions that affect not only the country but also my daughter. I've never had to watch my wife leave this world and know I need to be two parents."
Anguish gleamed in the man's sharp blue eyes. Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah. You never know how life is going to turn out."
They drank and sat in silence for a while, both pondering their own thoughts. "Mia and Chloe really bonded, didn't they?" Lake asked.
"Yes. They care about each other."
"And so do you."
Lake didn't phrase it as a question, so Ethan didn't answer it like one. "Mia has a job to do, and we both understand it. I just came to ask you to think about giving Chloe a chance to stay."
Lake shook his head, but a small smile rested on his lips. "You too, huh? I did. I was prepared for screaming and sulking and running off. It was a bit rough at first, but then I watched my daughter conduct herself like an adult and accept my decision." A faint gleam of regret glinted in his eyes. "I can also tell she pulled back from me. I can only hope I'm doing the right thing, but there are no fucking guarantees in anything. I have to do what's best. But I'll keep your offer in mind, Bishop. I appreciate you taking care of both of them this summer."
Ethan drained his drink and stood up. "It was the other way around."
"Huh?"
"They were the ones who took care of me. Good talking to you, Lake. I really hope you win the election."
"So do I."
They nodded and Ethan left him alone, sipping his whiskey in the dark.