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Authors: Erosa Knowles

Tags: #parenting lbgt teen, #inter racial romance, #politician romance, #bwwm fiction, #bwwm marriage, #politicians fiction

Letting Go (3 page)

BOOK: Letting Go
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Kip chuckled. “Nope, just saying your gaydar is broke. Used to be we could see them coming a mile away, now…all I’m saying is Howard looked at me funny. I know that look. I’m telling you man, he’s not straight.”

“You could be right, so what? These bastards coming out the closet like Mr. Cleans’ on their asses. Queers are everywhere. Not my business. I’m not getting into that, just here to practice talking in front of a crowd and that’s all,” he said in a low voice.

“What’s up with you today?”

Grant rubbed his forehead, putting his thoughts together. The good doctor had already checked him twice on not saying what he meant. “Dad’s on his way over with Uncle Ray.”

“Oh, well yeah. I’m not surprised they’re checking on you, there’s a lot riding on this election. Your dad made that clear to me when he found out I was introducing you today.”

Grant’s father had invested a lot of money and personal capital in getting him on the conservative ticket. “Yeah, he’s on-board big time, hope he’s not disappointed, the competition’s stiff.”

“Hey man, just do your best, these are kids. They aren’t interested in much but the guys in charge think this is a good idea, so we give it our best shot.” He shrugged.

Grant wondered if Kip would have the same offhand attitude if his name were on the ticket. He doubted it and looked across the auditorium again for Kelly. A flash of rust caught his attention. The lights in the back weren’t as bright, but the sway of her hips and curvy figure sent a curl of warmth to his belly.

She’d come.

When he hadn’t seen her earlier, he worried he’d pushed too strongly. The chill of dismissal radiating from her had spooked him. He refused to accept defeat. Not with her thinking he was a dork. He still couldn’t believe he’d blushed when she asked who he was. Had he become so vain he assumed everyone knew him on sight? And then she corrected him on his grammar, twice. Hot. But she sealed the deal when she said she listened. No one listened these days. He knew then he wouldn’t leave today without arranging to see her again. They’d talk tonight.

Looking around at the crowd, he exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. That’s when he noticed his dad and uncle standing in the shadows at the back of the auditorium. Their faces were obscure, but their combined aura leaked power and dared anyone to ask questions. If he had half the confidence his father had in his ability to do this job, it would make his life easier.

“Your dad’s here, in the back.” Kip tipped his head to the side and released a breath. Was Kip nervous? “We’re up soon. You know I’ll be brief; no one wants to hear a New York hillbilly. I’ll wear my game face, say the magic words and punt. Then you take us across the goal line, we score and get outta here. Deal?”

“Solid. Thanks for coming man, I appreciate it.” He had asked Kip to come along so he wouldn’t be stuck on stage alone. His friend didn’t care to be in the spotlight, no matter how brief. The fact he agreed the moment Grant asked, and kept his word, meant a lot. Good friends were hard to come by these days.

“No problem. In and out, that’s how I roll, in and out, keep 'em moving.”

Grant grunted. “I think you’re talking about something else, not these kids.”

Kip pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and looked at him. “I am. Oh, I am.”

“You’ve met one of my vice-principals, Dr. Kelly Riley. Dr. Riley is also responsible for our community involvement programs and is a walking book of knowledge on every youth program in the county. She’ll speak first and then I’ll introduce Mr. Stevens, who will introduce you, Mr. Whittaker.”

Grant hadn’t heard them approach, but didn’t bother looking at the principal, his gaze zeroed in on Kelly. She’d added a print scarf around the scoop neckline of her dress and looked delicious. Prim, proper and perfect to have that entire look spoiled by his hands. His fingers itched to peel back her calm façade and reveal the fire beneath. How’d he miss her full lips and wonderful smile before? The woman’s understated sexiness teased and taunted, sending a “rise” signal to his cock. He’d be patient. Before this week ended, the good doctor would be in his arms.

He stood and nodded during the introduction.

She met his gaze. “You ready, Mr. Whittaker?”

“Always,” he said before his mind clicked in. He turned and looked at the crowd. If standing in the entry of the auditorium with his hand on her elbow counted as inappropriate, she would slap him for the porn worthy thoughts rolling through his mind right now with her as the star.

She smiled.

“If teachers looked like you when I was in school, I would’ve made the honor roll,” Kip said, standing and walking forward.

Her brow rose and she stared at him.

The principal’s face hardened. “We are ready to start, please take your seat.” The authoritative tone in his voice stopped Kip’s advance cold.

Kip treated all women the same, as sex objects. His simple approach worked ninety percent of the time on a different caliber of women.

“Pleasure meeting both of you,” she said over her shoulder, her voice soft but undeniably firm. She nodded at Kip and turned. It seemed she’d mastered the art of silent dismissal.

He watched her walk to the other side of the stage, staring at the graceful line of her back in that form-fitting dress. Her high rounded ass snatched his attention before traveling down her thighs and calves. His cock lifted and relaxed, waving a greeting.

A sheepish grin covered Kip’s face as he returned to his seat. “She’s hot. Too snooty for me, but I’d tap that dark meat. Dark meat’s juicy.”

Grant’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond and reminded himself the man was doing him a favor. Times like these, Kip’s immaturity grated on his nerves. If he weren’t minutes from giving a speech to a group of kids who cared less, he’d tell his friend what he thought of the stupid comment in colorful detail. Instead of ripping into Kip, he looked at his notes. His tight hold on the index cards surprised him. If he weren’t careful, they’d rip. After another deep breath, he released the cards, one finger at a time. Now they lay on his thigh, injured but not destroyed.

Principal Thomas took the microphone at the podium.

“Settle down, settle down,” he said with a ring of concise authority in his voice. Like trained rookies, the noise vanished, and all eyes were now on the stage. Grant’s gaze roamed the audience, trying to determine which story to tell. There were so many on what not to do rather than what to do. In the end he decided to say whatever rose to the surface first.

“Dr. Kelly Riley.” Grant turned toward the podium at the introduction. He wanted to see more of her face, but she addressed the students giving him her back. He settled into his chair, quite content to gaze at her round perfect ass.

Kelly held her breath a second to clear her mind. If only she could erase the blatant look of appreciation she read in Grant’s eyes, she’d be able to finish her speech without messing up. Her thoughts shifted to his friend. Kip Stevens was a dog wearing pants who didn’t know how to talk to a woman. No amount of money or prestige could induce her to date a man whose pants and tee-shirt were skin tight, showcasing his business. The bulge in his pants didn’t take away from his attractiveness, the man looked good. His I-know-you-want-me approach appeared childish instead of sexy. No doubt it worked on plenty women, but she had no interest.

She nodded to her boss. People always underestimated him. He never tolerated rudeness from students or adults. If she had to sum up his personality in one word, she’d say chivalrous. He followed a strict code on how women, men and children were to be treated at all times, which worked in his favor in this ultra-conservative county. Plus the man excelled at his job, until recently she added. Now, she had to do hers.

“Hello everyone, I’ll make this brief.” One brave soul clapped and was hushed by the teacher nearby. “There are a number of programs in the area available to assist you and your families if needed. Please feel free to stop by my office or the guidance office to pick up brochures and information.” Her fingertips touched several pamphlets. “We have information on various topics; child abuse, hunger, gay rights and assistance, bullying. Please don’t remain silent and suffer, we can help. I want to help.” She held up the brochures so they could see. Dealing with teens and their short attention span made her job more challenging. If only they would pay attention on the front end, she’d have fewer emergency abuse cases later in the year.

She lingered a bit, hoping her comments reached someone. It would be great to make it through the year without casualties. As a realist, she knew better. But dreaming cost nothing.

“Thanks guys, here’s Principal Howard.” She collected her brochures, her nerves, her throbbing libido, and left the stage.

Chapter 3

 

“Let’s grab a bite to eat in here,” Robert, Grant’s father, said as they walked the crowded sidewalk in the business district near the office. “Dean’s waiting for us.”

Grant stood almost a foot taller than his dad, uncle and brother. As a teenager, he’d grown taller and wider than his slender brother, and that hadn’t changed.

When he was a younger, he'd looked like an adopted kid and hated the feeling. His mom took him to visit her family and that's when he finally understood. All the men were over six feet, and linebacker big. He spent every summer with them until his freshman year of high school. His dad wanted him to attend boring academic camps. Dean excelled in those places, and his mom assured him it’d be fun. They weren’t.

Grant swallowed a groan. In a weird way, the invite to eat seemed like an intervention unfolding instead of a congratulatory meal. Thank goodness Kip'd had something to do and refused the early dinner invite, one less person to witness his embarrassment. But that meant he would be surrounded by Whittaker males. Crap.

His appetite faltered. The cool air of the upscale restaurant served as a balm to his flushed skin. Ignoring the tightening in his gut, he released a stream of air and took the seat next to his older brother.

“What’s up, Dean?” He asked out of courtesy while sliding a manila envelope containing forms he’d signed toward his brother. Neither one of them cared about the other and had stopped faking sibling affection years ago. The sibling rivalry hadn’t stopped once they became adults. The better his ball career became, the harder Dean worked to become his dad’s mini-me. Despite all the fake concern his brother had sent his way when he'd tripped over Blair’s skate on the stairs and busted his knee, he knew Dean had been happy the event ended his football career.

“Nothing much. So how’d it go? How did the kiddy speech work for you?”

Grant ignored him. The question had been thrown at him, but was really meant for the elders at the table.

“Not bad. Started slow, but it didn’t take long for him to reach his stride. A few kids woke up and engaged,” his uncle, the more generous of the two, said after a quick glance to his dad. Grant smiled at his uncle. The man worked hard at keeping peace in the family and could always be counted on for any type of emergency. After his athletic career ended, his uncle had hung around the house offering assistance to him and his ex-wife, Priscilla. Grant owed the man more than he could repay.

“So he’s ready for the fundraiser?” Dean asked. Grant picked up a thread of nerves in his voice and glanced in his direction. As usual, Dean’s gaze had locked onto their dad. Everyone waited for Robert to speak. To pass judgment. The pecking order pissed Grant off, it always had.

“He should be ready.” Robert turned to Grant, their gazes met. “Something happened after a few moments, you clicked, relaxed, and just talked to the kids. That’s the magic you have that the other guys don’t. You relate to everyday people, I need to see more of that.”

Dean’s shoulders relaxed and he released a long breath.

Grant looked at him and found an outlet for his frustration. “What’s the matter with you, Dean? Why are you so worried about all this?”

His brother glanced at him and then looked at his dad. Grant followed his lead and saw the subtle shake of his dad’s head. His uncle turned away and Dean gave Grant one of his patented fake smiles.

“Nothing, I just want to make sure you get everything you deserve, that’s all. You’ve wanted to help people since you were a kid. Now you have a chance. I’m happy for you.” He turned away before Grant could see his eyes or read his expression.

One thing for sure, his brother and the word
happy
were enemies; something big must have happened for him to bother lying.

“Yeah, sure.” His dry tone went unchallenged.

“The next event, on Saturday, you have a date?” his uncle asked.

BOOK: Letting Go
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