Page 45

“You. What's your angle?”

I tilt my chin higher to get a better look at his face. Not a single emotion displays across his features.

“My angle?” Leaning forward, I rest both elbows on my thighs. “Whoever hurt you worked you over good. Believe me, I've seen it, been there. If you're still this raw over it, I'm guessing it was recent.”

His lips purse, flattening into a thin line.

“Right, you don't want to talk about it. That's cool, I get it. But to answer your question, I don't have an angle. Well….” I sigh and straighten my spine. “That's not true. I do have an angle, but it's not a bad one.”

“What is it?” If I'm not mistaken, a hint of curiosity lines his voice.

“I need a friend, okay? I don't have anyone in DC I can trust. It's fucking lonely.”

Those light brown eyes stop scanning for threats to meet mine. His brows furrow, forming a deep line between them. “You think you can trust me?”

Tapping the crates with the back of my heels, I shrug. “Yeah, I do, even though you're an ass.”

He smirks at my words. “Trust is dangerous in politics.” Thumb between my teeth, I chew on the ragged nail, waiting for him to continue. “Friends. I can do that.”

I release the breath I was holding in a whoosh.

“Thank fuck.”

“But we're not braiding each other’s hair—”

“Obviously. You don't look like you'd be good at it. No offense.”

“And the second I think you're fucking me over, we're done.” He extends a hand between us. “Trey Benson. Pleased to meet you, friend.”

I slide my own hand against his callused one. “Randi Sawyer. Nice to meet you, friend.”

“Tell me your story,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. The buttons of his light blue dress shirt pull under the pressure. “From trailer to vying for the vice president spot. Must be a good one.”

I snort and take a sip of tequila. The earlier bottle already warms my belly and loosens my normal hindrances of talking about my past.

“You saw where I grew up, and until Taeler was born, I thought Mom's life was my predestined future. But when I found out I was pregnant, and even more so after she was born, I wanted more for her, more for me. At that point, everything was spiraling out of control. Mom didn't want a baby interrupting her and her boyfriend’s alone time, so she kicked me out to the shed.” Memories flood my mind of the makeshift room slash nursery I created in the old storage shed. An unstoppable shudder shakes my body. Which of course he notices with those all-seeing eyes. “That didn't last long though. Taeler's dad's family stepped in, and… well, that's a whole different story that I don't want to get into.”

My eyes widen, brows rising in question when he snags the cigarette box from my lap and lights up.

“Don't look so surprised. I don't know a single person who left the military without some kind of nicotine addiction.”

“You're a veteran?” Of course he is. Bet you he looks hot as hell in whatever uniform he used to wear. Wonder if he still has it stashed somewhere.

“I am.”

“Which branch?”

“Army.”

I nod and light another cigarette. “A lot of the guys from my high school went in after graduation. Not a lot of choices unless you got an academic or sports scholarship for college. I was proud of them. I could never be that brave.”

“Most of the boys under my command were the same. So fucking young.”

“Oh,” I say with an exhale of smoke. “Of course you were an officer.” So hot.

“What made you go to UT and then law school? And not just any law school but Harvard?”

I roll the butt of the cigarette along my lower lip as I debate my response. “Someone told me I'd never amount to anything. That I'd never be more than an addict’s daughter and would live the rest of my life in that same run-down trailer park. I wanted so badly to show them all they were wrong.”