Sway (Landry Family #1)(25)

“Not that it doesn’t thrill me to find you making yourself at home,” I say, tossing my briefcase on a chair, “but why?”

“I’ve been appointed your chaperone tonight.”

“Chaperone?”

“Whatever the official title is,” he grumbles, tossing a pen on the paper he was looking at. “We need to get out of here in about thirty. Is Troy still outside?”

I nod, pouring myself a glass of water from the pitcher Rose keeps in the little refrigerator in my office.

“Did you see your poll numbers?”

“Yeah,” I say, smacking my lips together. “They don’t look too bad.”

“They’re surprisingly good, actually,” Graham says, standing. “I think we have a fighting chance at this seat. Just keep doing what you’re doing. No big waves, no big surprises, and a nod from Monroe, and I think you’re good to go.”

I swipe a pen and a stack of papers out of my inbox and give them a quick once-over. Signing my name to the bottom of all but one, I stuff them in my outbox for Rose.

“What did you do today?” Graham eyes me suspiciously.

“Let’s see,” I say, clinking the ice in the glass. “I got in here before anyone else—except the media, naturally. Did a bunch of paperwork and went over reports for the new budget. Attended the ribbon cutting ceremony at the park. Worked on the contracts for the new sewage treatment plant and had some lunch, then did a few phone interviews with newspapers from Atlanta.”

“Funny. I don’t quite believe you.”

“And why is that?”

“Because while you’re not exactly smiling, you’re not completely pissed off, either. And that, my big brother, is odd.”

“What are you implying?” I grin.

“See?” he says, pointing his finger at me. “You’re smiling and there are no cameras here to mug for. That’s a genuine smile. Did you just put a hit out on Hobbs? If so, let a brother know so I can start crafting your alibi.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” I laugh. “You always have a plan.”

“Only because I’ve always needed one with you and Linc as brothers,” he points out.

“You can rest assured I’ve committed no felonies today.”

“So she was of legal age? That’s what you mean?”

Laughing, I sit in the chair across from him. “Yes, she’s of legal age. She’s . . . intriguing.”

“Define ‘intriguing.’”

“You’re the one with the master’s degree,” I tell him. “I’m pretty sure you know what it means.”

He rubs his hands across his forehead, looking just like our father. “‘Intriguing’ is a word that, when coming out your mouth about a female, concerns me, Barrett. I’m not going to lie.”

“Fine. I find her exciting. I find her different. I find her . . .”

“Conquestable?”

“That’s not a word.”

He groans and stands, walking to my refrigerator and pouring himself a drink. “Have you not been listening to anything Nolan’s been telling you? About locking down your image? About not getting involved with anyone when we have just weeks left to go?”

“Yes,” I say, letting the last sound drag out. “That’s why I met her at the Farm. There’s no one there to see anything.”

“Smart. If you must do something stupid, at least don’t do it in public.”

“It’s not stupid, Graham. I had lunch with her a few days ago. That’s it.”

He looks at me blankly, like I don’t get it.

“She’s not like Daphne or . . . or . . . what was the redhead’s name I dated awhile back?”

“Candy. Hence, my point.”

“Yeah, Candy. Man, she had a nice ass.”

“Barrett, please,” he sighs. “Listen to me. I’m sure she’s not like the rest of them. They never are, until they are.”

I shake my head emphatically. “Not this one. She’s a single mom that’s been through a nasty divorce. She doesn’t want any publicity, has no agenda. She just, I don’t know, makes me feel like I can breathe. Like I can be me.”

“So,” he chuckles, “you can be you and she still likes you? I stand corrected. You’ve found an angel. Keep her around.”

“Such a comedian,” I grumble, walking around my desk and taking my seat. “I’m being serious. I think I could really like her.”

That’s not entirely true. The taste of her mouth is seared into mine, the scent of her vanilla-laden perfume scorched into my memory, and I know she’s already singed her name into my blood. I’ve never had this . . . need . . . to get to know a girl before. It’s this prickly feeling that lets me know I am, without being, fucked.

“Please be careful. Be smart,” Graham says, pulling me out of my reverie. “While I’m happy to see you happy over someone without cup size factoring into the top five reasons, this probably isn’t the time to mess with this.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, reordering a stack of papers Graham scattered. “I get this feeling from her that she doesn’t want anything serious with me.”