A Great Kisser. Donna Kauffman
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I mean. For a living. I know nothing about racing, so for all I know you’re the rock star of the circuit, living the high life. I just—I didn’t mean to insult you, is all I’m saying.” She laughed and he glanced over to see her looking down, shaking her head with a rueful smile on her face. “And to think I’m the one the senator relies on to put words in his mouth when I can’t even string mine together for two seconds without sounding like a total flake.”
“You write speeches?”
“Sometimes. I write a lot of media statements. I also get coffee, keep track of every Senate and House vote, pick up the dry cleaning, book travel and events, and figure things out like where is the best place to have your Gordon setter personally trained.” She grinned. “Toby MacLeroy. In Arlington. In case you ever needed to know.”
His lips quirked again. “I’ll make a note of it.”
“It’s a glamorous life. Somehow I managed.”
He looked back at the road in time to see the sign for tight curves ahead. And wondered why people didn’t come with such easy to interpret warnings. Lauren was throwing curves at him right and left. Seemingly without even trying.
“You were right,” she said, after the silence had extended a bit longer. “About the rain.” She turned back to the window on her side of the truck. “And the mountains. They are awe inspiring. I’ve traveled, but never in anything like this. And to think they’re right here, in our own country.” She laughed. “That sounded kind of idiotic, but—”
“I know what you mean.”
“Have you traveled? Do you race in other parts of the country? Or the world?”
“I just do the one race in Reno every fall. With running the school, it takes pretty much the full year to get ready for that.”
“Do you have help?”
“A little. Mostly old friends of my grandfather’s who come and help out. When the race gets closer, I have friends who come in to help with the final round of prep, testing, that sort of thing, and crew for me during race week.”
“It’s a lot of work for one race.”
“It’s a series of races over the course of a week, but yes, just the one event.”
“Would you enter more of them if you could?”
He shook his head. “This is pretty much the only one of its kind. It’s enough for me. My grandfather also used to do all kinds of exhibitions, county fairs, air shows, that sort of thing, when he could get away. It’s a popular sideline for pilots and owners and not a bad way to earn some extra income.”
“Do you follow that tradition, too?”
He shook his head. “No time. And, to be honest, not the same inclination he had for that part of the culture. I’d like to travel more, in this country, and out, see more of the world. Been to Canada, down to Mexico, but haven’t gotten over to Europe. I’d enjoy that.”
“For racing?”
“They have some big events over there, and I wouldn’t mind getting to see them, but mostly I’d go for the history. You’ve traveled, I take it?”
She nodded. “It’s a little bit like your mountains here, how you described them earlier. The more I see of the world, the more it keeps me firmly rooted in my place in it, and how it’s both so insignificant and yet profoundly meaningful. If I want it to be.”
He slowed a bit as the road wound tightly and steeply down the side of another mountain, then finally glanced over at her as the pickup flattened out across a high meadow, before climbing once again. “Do you want to follow your boss? Into politics I mean.”
She looked over at him, and their gazes collided for a moment, then hung here a moment longer. Then she smiled and laughed. “I used to think I could make a difference. I started out as a lawyer, which runs in my family, but they were all very involved in politics, too, and when I got involved working on a campaign, the bug bit.”
“Did you run for office?”
“No, I was never really compelled to do that, but I wanted to be vital to those who did, to be involved in the everyday workings of Capitol Hill, be a part of history being made.” She laughed again. “Sounds so altruistic and naïve now.”
“No, it doesn’t. I think it takes exactly that kind of mentality to do what you do. You have to believe, otherwise, why bother?”
Now her smile turned a bit wry, and he found himself easing up on the gas, prolonging the moment when he’d have to keep his gaze tight on the road ahead as they made the next ascent.
“Maybe I’ve been in Washington too long, but after a while, I started to wonder how anything actually gets accomplished. I spent far more time feeling frustrated and hopeless than I did energized and aggressive. I finally decided that can’t be good. For me, or anyone.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.” He reluctantly returned his gaze to the road. “How long are you planning on being out here?” He glanced her way. “I mean, what will the good senator do if he needs to find the best pre-school for his future, unborn children if you’re not there to do the research?”
“He already has five children,” she said. “And, believe it or not, you’re not all that far off on in vitro private pre-school enrollment.”
“And here I thought it was a cliché played out in the movies.”
She laughed. “Cliché’s come to be for a reason.”
“A little scary to contemplate, given some of them.”
“You have no idea.”
They fell into silence again, but now that he had her talking, the silence seemed hollow rather than comforting. “You here for a long weekend? Sounds like you can’t be away too long.” And why he was suddenly so interested, he had no idea. The reasons for not getting involved hadn’t changed. But his feelings about wanting to might be.
She didn’t answer right away, so he looked over at her. “You don’t have to answer. I was just making conversation.”
“I quit,” she blurted out.
“What?”
She looked back out through the windshield. “I am no longer the senior staff aide to the gentleman from Virginia.”
After a quick look, he returned his gaze to the road. She looked both defensive and a little sick. “I take it this is news you haven’t shared with your loved ones.”
“With anyone. Other than the senator. And the person he’s named as my replacement. The rest of the staff found out today.”
“Is that going to be newsworthy?” He glanced over again and smiled. “For all I know, you’re the rock star of Capitol Hill.”
She smiled back and looked a little less green. “It won’t make the papers, if that’s what you mean. There is no scandal or anything. And he’s not on the forefront of any topical committees or bills at the moment, so I don’t think it will be more than a tiny ripple. Natasha will take my place and all will move along.”
“Natasha. Is this a good thing?”
Her smile widened. “You’re very nice for pretending to care. And it’s perfectly fine. She’s still hungry.”
“And you’re not.” He said it as more statement than question.
“I want to be. I’m restless. Like I’m treading water and there’s a pretty good chance I’m going to drown rather than figure out how to swim and save myself. So, I got out of the pool altogether. For now, anyway.”
“Might be the best thing you could do. How does it feel?”
“Scary. A little sad. Mostly because I miss the people on