Page 106 of Blue Jean Summer

I dropped a kiss to the back of her head. “Anytime.”

Catherine reached for the jewelry dish that kept her rings safe while she was getting ready.

“Let me,” I said, beating her to it. I plucked her wedding band and engagement ring out of the dish and took her hand, sliding them onto her finger one by one. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it. “Give ’em hell, Mrs. Wilder.”

I carried Catherine’s high heels and the garment bag that held her sleek black gown down to the Mustang, laid them on the passenger seat, then raised the convertible top so her hair didn’t get messed up in the wind.

Catherine held the crown box and shouldered a bag of cosmetic reinforcements. “I’m sorry we only get to see each other in passing this week,” she said. A lighthearted laugh slipped free. “I guess that’s what this was actually supposed to be like.”

Since she packed a backup cosmetics bag, I didn’t feel the slightest bit bad about wrecking her lipstick. I pinned Catherine to the side of the car and kissed her hard enough to make up for all the kisses I had missed while I was gone. “I’m glad it’s not what it was supposed to be,” I said when I broke away for a necessary breath.

Her cheeks matched the candy-apple-red body of the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I shook my head and dipped in for another kiss. “Wake me up when you get back. I want to hear how it went.”

Catherine smoothed her palms down my chest and nodded. “Okay.”

I held the door open as she slid in and cranked up the engine. “Drive safe, Mrs. Wilder.”

She revved the engine, just to give me a heart attack, and grinned.

I watched as her taillights disappeared down the lane before heading back inside. It wouldn’t be long until my guest arrived for our meeting. In the days leading up to me leaving for DC, Catherine had told me she would be away from the estate for the day for the Miss Virginia competition. It was finally time to give dear old Dad a call.

I never asked Hallie to do things like answer the door, but today I needed to play the part of Mr. Wilder.

“Governor Grant, thank you so much for coming to the estate today,” Hallie said, laying it on thick as she greeted Catherine’s father at the door. “Mr. Wilder is in his study. Can I get you something to drink?”

I listened to the rhythm of their footsteps as they peeled out of the foyer and rounded into the formal living room.

I made myself look busy, all while wondering if Granddad still had a bottle of moonshine hidden in the ficus by the window.

The heavy footsteps stopped just outside the French doors, and Hallie’s much softer ones disappeared.

“Working on a Sunday?” Governor Grant said as he let himself in. “I have to say, I was a little surprised to get your invitation. My apologies for not being able to make it to your wedding.”

I didn’t bother getting the door for him, I didn’t stand as he entered, and I certainly wasn’t going to accept his bullshit apology for standing up his daughter on her wedding day. The forgiveness ship had sailed. I wasn’t his son-in-law today.

This was a power play.

“Sunday for us is Monday in Asia and Australia,” I said as I finished scrolling through the pictures of Catherine and me that I had on my laptop. “And since China, South Korea, and Japan rely on American ranchers for their beef supply to the tune of billions, I take a particular interest in making sure our cowboys are taken care of, and food is available for families all over the world.”

“How noble,” Governor Grant said as he took a seat across the desk from me without being invited to do so.

“But I’m sure you’re aware of how globalized our food chain and agricultural supply chain are,” I said with an easy smile as I closed my laptop and clasped my hands on top of the desk. “We export seven billion in wheat. The state of Kansas alone does a fifth of that. Last year we did fourteen billion dollars in corn exports. That might not sound like a lot, but it’s a lot to the farmers who grow the forty-two million metric tons of it.”

The governor’s eyebrows lifted.

“That’s over twenty-two hundred football fields filled with corn, which sounds like a lot, but it’s really not that much when you come to realize that what we export is only about ten or twenty percent of all the corn that’s grown here.”

The governor smiled a smarmy politician’s grin. “Pardon me for being so blunt, but it seems like your talents are wasted in the private sector. Ever given thought to getting into public service?”

I chuckled. “I have no desire to be in the public eye.” I rolled Granddad’s gilded pen between my fingers. “I prefer to serve the public to keep food on tables by working outside of ever-changing administrations with personal agendas.” I shot him a grin. “I’ll leave the existential issues to folks like you.”

“The existential issues are just as important,” he countered. “Healthcare. Education. Foreign affairs and diplomacy. Can’t keep food on the table if those aren’t prioritized as well.”

“I agree,” I said as I tapped the pen on the top of Granddad’s executive desk. “I’m certainly not as apolitical as my granddad was.”

“Your grandfather was a good man,” Governor Grant said. “He was a man of conviction. No matter how much I tried to convince him to donate to campaigns or parcel this land so we could bring jobs to this part of the state and boost the economy, he was insistent that it remain undeveloped.”