Campaigning for Love novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: Off the Record

Nelson Kittredge had spent nineteen years dodging county plow trucks, and it showed.

He dropped his hands from my face and turned to the door before the reporter's phone could settle.

"Evening, Constance," he said. "Bit of an eyelash emergency."

I blinked.

"It was in her eye," Nelson told the young man in the green vest. "I'm a terrible first-aider. Cora, is it better?"

"Much better," I said, in a squeak.

"That's the thing about a campaign," Nelson said to the reporter, warm and easy. "At nine at night, we're all fixing each other's eyes."

The reporter laughed and lowered the phone.

"Great," he said. "That's perfect for the newsletter. 'Candidate lends a hand.'"

I thought I would be sick.

Constance did not laugh.

She looked at me, and then at the smear of my lip gloss on Nelson's jaw, and then, slowly, at the lamp.

"Thank you for coming by," she said to the reporter. "I'll walk you out."

"Are you sure we don't need a quote from the, uh..."

"She's an intern," Constance said. "Interns don't get quotes."

When the door closed behind them, I sagged against the wall.

"I'm sorry," Nelson said.

"Don't be. You were incredible."

"I lied to a journalist about an eyelash."

"It was a very good eyelash."

He laughed, shakily, and wiped the lip gloss off his jaw with his thumb.

Then the door of the glass office opened again.

Constance had come back alone.

She shut the door and stood between us with her arms folded.

"You may leave, Candidate," she said. "I'd like a word with Miss Dunn."

"No," said Nelson.

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