Campaigning for Christopher Read Free Page A

in one poor neighborhood.”
    She gasped as her stomach flipped over, and she tasted bile in the back of her throat.
    Derogatory. Sexist. Superior. Racist. Condescending.
    Evil.
    And she’d seen it with her own eyes, heard the words tumbling out of Christopher Winslow’s beautiful, hateful mouth.
    She clenched her teeth together and handed the phone back to Black Hat, barely able to contain the force of her fury.
    “Thank you,” she grated out.
    “Thank you?” he asked, screwing up his brows at her as he took his phone back.
    “Thank you for giving me this chance to do what’s right,” she said, gulping over the ferocity of the storm raging within her.
    For just a moment, Black Hat paused, his eyes searching her face. “Take the money.”
    “No, sir,” she said, surprised to find she wasn’t even tempted. In two weeks she’d have to pull up stakes and buy a bus ticket home, but she’d know that she’d done something meaningful—something fiercely righteous—before leaving.
    His face quickly smoothed back into its former blank slate, and he nodded. “Okay, then. Good luck.”
    “I don’t need luck,” Julianne said, turning away from him. When she got to the tasting room door, she looked back to find him rooted where she’d left him, watching her thoughtfully. “See you at ten.”
    He nodded at her, then slipped away quickly into the half-light of the dying afternoon.
    “Jules?” said Joe, snapping her thoughts back to the present. “You need anything else?”
    She looked down at the now-full tray, her eyes alighting on the double shot of Killarney that she was going to take to Christopher Winslow.
    “No,” she said, pulling the tray to the edge of the bar and slipping the tablets discreetly into the whiskey as soon as Joe turned around to start on another order of drinks. She swirled the alcohol with her finger, watching the tablets dissolve. “I’ve got this covered.”

Chapter 2
     
    Christopher Winslow patted his brother Preston on the back as he grinned at their oldest brother, Brooks.
    “So I guess next summer will be Sesame Street at Westerly, huh?”
    Preston and Brooks had just given a tandem speech at their little sister’s wedding and shared the news that Preston’s wife, Elise, and Brooks’s fiancée, Skye, were both expecting babies in the spring.
    “Aw, Chris,” teased Preston, “you’re just pissed you won’t be the youngest anymore.”
    “Youngest brother ,” clarified Jessica, who sidled up alongside Brooks, giving them all a brilliant smile. “And I’m thrilled. Don’t be surprised if Alex and I—”
    “Please don’t say it,” begged Brooks, his expression souring. “None of us wants to imagine you and Alex doing . . .”
    “. . . that ,” grumbled their other brother, Cameron, who stood up from the table and joined his brothers and sister.
    Jessica elbowed Cameron in the stomach before placing her arms around Cameron’s and Brooks’s shoulders. Brooks put his arm around Preston, who put his arm around Christopher, who put his arm around Cameron, and they were a complete, closed, huddle of siblings.
    “I can’t believe you’re married,” said Christopher softly, as his eyes lifted to Jessie’s.
    In the course of one whirlwind summer, all of Christopher’s siblings had suddenly found themselves engaged or married, and frankly, it was messing a little bit with his head. For the past several months, he’d had to put relationships on the back burner and concentrate his attention on his campaign and on the public’s impression and expectation of him. Any red-bloodedness owned by his age and sex had been deferred in the pursuit of his dreams.
    But that didn’t mean he didn’t miss women.
    He did. A lot.
    He missed being able to ask out a pretty girl. Even more, he missed being able to bed a sexy and willing girl. But dating and politics just didn’t mix. Christopher wasn’t ready to settle down, and being seen with a different girl every weekend would