The First Gardener by Denise Hildreth Jones Page B

the governor’s offices. Gray stood in the doorway to his private office, leaning against the doorframe, smiling. His executive assistant, Sarah Hughes, was behind her desk, glasses perched atop her nose, fingers moving like woodpeckers across the keys of her computer.
    A young law clerk looked up from the small desk by the hall doorway. “Hello, Mrs. London.”
    “Hey, Troy, studying hard?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He turned and looked at Gray. She smiled. It was evident he wanted the governor to know he was a hard worker.
    The announcement caused Sarah to raise her head. A smile swept across her face. “Hello, Mackenzie. Our governor here has been expecting you.”
    Sarah and Mackenzie had known each other since Mackenzie was a little girl, and Sarah’s daughter, Anna, was still Mackenzie’s best friend. Sarah had worked for Gray’s law office for ten years before she made the move with him to the capitol. There was very little she didn’t know about Gray, including what an afternoon visit from Mackenzie usually meant.
    She had to know for it all to work. But knowing that Sarah knew still made Mackenzie’s face flush.
    Gray’s smile was wide as he backed into his office, white shirtsleeves rolled up, tie loosened around his neck. He closed the door behind them. Sarah would make sure they were not disturbed.
    “Baby-making time?” Gray bent down to kiss her.
    She ran her hand down the side of his head, his hair soft beneath her fingers. She loved the way he wore it—short, neat, with just a hint of distinguished gray at the temples. “You only have a few minutes.”
    He looked at her and smiled. “You’ve been checking my schedule?”
    She crinkled her nose. “Yeah.”
    He took her hand and led her across the yellow-and-blue Tennessee seal rug that virtually filled his entire office. He opened the door to the quaint study off his main office and let her go inside, pressing his hand against the small of her back to guide her. This was where he read his briefs, made his phone calls, and—sometimes—made love to his wife.
    He closed the door behind them. Mackenzie was already facing him, reaching for his tie. “We only have about twenty minutes. I know you don’t need all of—”
    He pulled her hands from his tie and pushed her back slightly.
    She giggled. “But you can take all twenty minutes if you want to.”
    He reached up and slid her jacket from her shoulders. “Thank you. I think I will.”
    “Wonder what your constituents would think if they—”
    He kissed the side of her neck, his words brushing against her ear. “I’d prefer not to think about my constituents right now, if you don’t mind.”
    Mackenzie laughed again. She didn’t mind one little bit.

    Mackenzie wrapped the tie back around Gray’s neck. She knew him so well. She remembered those early days of dating when she began to learn his history and then his quirks. And, Lord have mercy, he did have his quirks.
    The one that always got her the most tickled was how the covers on their bed had to be just so at night. The top sheet had to be neatly folded over the coverlet before he could actually go to sleep. But she liked her covers stuck up underneath her chin. After their first year of marriage, he had finally given up on her side.
    He also had to sleep with a box fan in the room, turned on him just so. Every night before he climbed in, he would situate it precisely so it would blow on his face. Before she married him, Mackenzie had never liked noise at night. She wanted it completely quiet and totally dark. But now she had gotten used to the sound of the fan.
    Oh, and he didn’t like to be touched when he was ready to go to sleep. He wanted Mackenzie on her side and he on his. But that was where she drew the line. She couldn’t help it. If it was with nothing more than her big toe, she was going to touch him. And he either had gotten used to that or was just tired of complaining about it.
    Thinking about each of his quirks made