“I see. But what about work?”

Bernie winked at me. “Considering I know your boss, I’ll field any of the questions as to why you aren’t returning this afternoon.”

I laughed. “Okay. I trust you to handle it.”

“Your absence this afternoon at work will also help corroborate the story we’re preparing for the media. People will be left to assume you left to be with Barrett.”

“Once again, the two of you have thought of everything,” I complimented.

Senator Callahan smiled. “Don’t worry yourself about your job at the campaign. You have a lot to focus on in your new role.”

“Yes, sir.”

Everett will not only take your measurements and get your ideas on what clothes you like to wear, but he will also go over some of the protocol of the campaign. Since he travels with us, you could consider him an expert.”

“I’m sure I need all the help I can get,” I lamented. I wasn’t just talking about the fact that my wardrobe would need some serious overhauling to make me presentable to the public. It was also about the fact that I had no freakin’ clue about campaign protocol. While I kicked ass at my job, that was something I was familiar with—something I had gone to school for. As far as I knew, there wasn’t a school for shaking hands and kissing babies along the campaign trail.

“You’ll do just fine, I’m sure. Bernie will take you downstairs where Everett is waiting.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said as I rose out of my chair.

Senator Callahan stood up and threw out his hand. “No, thank you, Miss Monroe.”

After shaking his hand, I followed Bernie to the elevator. The staffer who had taken my Choos appeared when the elevator doors opened and gave me a smile as he handed them back to me. “Good as new,” he mused.

“I’ll say,” I replied. Not only had the heel been repaired, someone had shined them so well I could practically see myself in them. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Once I slipped my born-again heels back on, I got onto the elevator with Bernie. I had to say I was much less nervous on this trip than I had been on the first. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’ve agreed to do this,” Bernie said.

“I hope you’ll still be saying that in a couple of months.”

He laughed. “I think you’re going to exceed not only our expectations, but your own as well.”

“I certainly hope so.”

Once we got off the elevator, I followed Bernie as we made our way through the lobby and down a hallway. With a knock, he entered one of the conference rooms. “Come in,” a muffled voice called.

Bernie opened the door and motioned for me to enter first. When I got inside, a tall, lanky man came striding up to us. His blond hair reached his shoulders, and his blue eyes stared inquisitively at me.

“Addison, I’d like you to meet Everett Delaney, stylist for the Callahan campaign.”

I extended my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Everett took my hand in his and then brought it to his lips. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Bernie patted my back. “Since I know you’re in very capable hands, I’m going to head back to the penthouse. We’re about to initiate stage two of our plan.”

Hmm. I knew that must mean Barrett was on his way, and the thought sent my stomach into a weird fluttering—the kind you get when you’re anxious to see your crush. I wasn’t sure where that was coming from since there was no way I was crushing on someone I’d never met.

“Okay,” I replied.

“Once you’re finished, feel free to have lunch in the hotel restaurant. I’ll let them know you’re coming, and you can just write ‘penthouse’ on the bill.”

“Thank you, Bernie.”

After the door closed behind him, a nervous laugh bubbled out of me. Everett’s brows popped up as he asked, “Is something funny?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just nervous. I’ve never had a stylist before.”

A smirk spread on Everett’s lips. “You don’t say.”

I glanced down at my outfit. “Am I dressed that badly?”

“It’s not horrible, but it ain’t good either.”

"Senator Callahan mentioned that besides helping me with clothes, you were going to fill me in on campaign protocol.”

“That’s right. The campaign can’t afford any mistakes or faux pas on anyone’s part, especially yours. You’re going to be an old dog learning new tricks on how to walk, talk, and speak.”

“Are you going to be the Henry Higgins to my Eliza Doolittle like in My Fair Lady?"

Everett tapped his chin in thought. "I like to think of it more like Hector Elizondo's character in Pretty Woman, but maybe that’s because he’s more my type than Rex Harrison."

"I already know what fork to use." I conveniently left out the part where I’d learned that tidbit from the movie.

"Good, we can mark that one off the list, but do you know what bag call is?"

"No, that one I'm not aware of."

"When you go out with the campaign, bag call comes ninety minutes before you are supposed to leave a hotel. You have to have your suitcase out in the hallway for pickup.”

“An hour and a half before we leave?”

“Yep.” Waggling a finger, Everett added, “But the trick comes in having a large purse to dump your makeup and hair products in. You can also toss your jammies in there.”