Sway (Landry Family #1)(10)

“No, not at all,” he muses. “It’s a great thing to want to do. It’s what I want to do too—take this dirty career and try to be the voice of reason. It’s a hard job, but someone needs to do it, right?”

“Right,” I smile, feeling my cheeks flush.

“You’ll be a trailblazer,” he sighs, shaking his head. “God, those people are animals. They’ll report anything if they think it’ll sell a copy of their publication. There are no ethics anymore. None.”

“You’re telling me. They’re vicious and hateful.”

He slows his pace, the moon glancing over his features, making his jaw line look sharper, his eyes more powerful than ever before. “You’ve really been hurt, haven’t you?”

“Oh, Mr. Mayor, you have no idea,” I laugh. “But, once again, we aren’t talking about me anymore. We are talking about you and your fact and fiction.”

He rolls his eyes, looking adorable. I could just watch him move all night. Some people love to watch other people in malls and parks. I could watch Barrett read the newspaper.

“Go ahead. Fire away,” he says.

“I hate to tell you this and burst some sort of ego you might have, but I really know nothing about you to ask,” I wince. “I’m sorry.”

His jaw drops. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yeah,” I eke out. “I mean, I know the basics. I know who you are, bits and pieces of your family and things like that. But I don’t really have time to read papers or watch television right now.”

He presses his lips together, maybe to keep from smiling, and subtly nods his head. “Well, damn. I’ve found a unicorn.”

“That’s something I’ve never been called.”

He looks at me and I make a face, causing him to burst into laughter. His voice rolls over the fields. A flock of birds take flight from a grouping of trees nearby.

“Can I just tell you how much I love that you know nothing about me?”

“I didn’t say I know nothing about you. I just said I know nothing about you to ask.”

“Um, the difference?”

I wink, but don’t answer. I’m not going to tell him how insanely gorgeous he is or how he ignites a fire in my belly with one glance. There’s no way I’m telling him I know, I know, he’d be great in bed and that I’m positive he could take over my mind and heart if I let him.

I have to stay focused on what I need and what’s best for Huxley, and that’s not falling in lust with some dapper politician. More than I already am.

“So, what do you do for fun?” I ask instead, pivoting and heading back towards the building.

“Well,” he says, turning his head back and forth, “I don’t get time for a lot of fun these days.”

“That’s sad.”

He snorts. “Tell me about it. Right now my life is centered around this campaign.”

I hear a grit in his voice, a slight twinge of frustration. “I’m sure that’s a lot of work this close to the day of reckoning.”

“It is. It’s all anyone wants to talk about. Family dinner turns into a campaign staff meeting somehow and it’s just . . . it’s hard to get away from.” We turn the bend, the building glowing ahead of us. “I love it, don’t get me wrong. This is what I was born to do. I just haven’t found the balance between this and my personal life.” He takes a deep breath. “Sometimes I wonder if there is a balance, if you can really have both.”

I think back to my marriage. “I don’t have experience with politics specifically, but I know the struggle of being in the public domain and trying to lead a normal life. It’s tough. It’s hard to keep the stuff not job-related private, sacred. It kind of . . . poisons everything.”

The venom in my voice is thick, but I don’t even attempt keeping it out. I couldn’t if I wanted to.

“One of these days, I’d like to know what happened to you,” he whispers. “But I won’t ask you tonight.”

We exchange a smile. It isn't the wide, charming one he uses on his political adversaries, nor is it the sexy smirk he used on me before. It's something else, the one from earlier—something more private—and it sends a wave of warmth through me.

“Would you like to have dinner with me one night this week?” he asks, a drop of hesitation in his voice.

My throat burns as I prevent myself from answering right away. Of course I want to, who wouldn’t? But what good will it do? There’s very little chance he’d do or say something to make me not want to see him again, and the fact of the matter is, he’s a candidate in an election. He isn’t in a place for a relationship, and what I need, what Huxley needs, is for me to be serious and calculated in everything I do.

“Alison?”

“I’d love to,” I say, taking a deep breath, “but I’m going to have to decline.”

He’s taken aback, his steps faltering beside mine. “So . . . no?”

“Yes, no,” I laugh. “Is that the first time you’ve heard that or something?”

“Well, yes. More or less.”

I laugh louder as the lights ahead of us get brighter.

“This isn’t funny,” he says with a grin spread across his cheeks. “I really would like to see you again.”