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“That's exactly what Sam wants.” A light flare of pink highlights her cheeks. “I think I can trust him.” I school my features to keep my emotions from showing. “Not that it matters.”

“Order up,” I grumble with less enthusiasm than earlier.

“I agree that we can trust him, but why doesn't it matter?” Tank asks as he leans across the counter with plate in hand, waiting to accept the hot sandwich. I slide it onto his plate and turn back to the stove to prepare the next one.

“You both know what I signed with Kyle,” she explains. “I can't risk being in breach of contract. I'd have to pay everything back, and even with the salary I make, it wouldn't be a drop in the bucket to what I’d owe.” She shoves the last piece of toasted bread into her mouth and shakes her head. “I won't risk it. I have to think long-term.”

Neither Tank nor I say a word. Butter sizzles in the hot pan, filling the otherwise silent kitchen. I chance a look at Tank, whose dark eyes are already on me. He nods, knowing exactly what I’m thinking, and goes back to his sandwich, confirming we're on the same page.

Part of me wants to push her to help the DOJ, even if it means her working closely with Sam. Randi came to DC to make a difference, to stop the political leeches from taking advantage of the people they were elected to fight for. The Randi I met on the campaign trail would be furious at her current desire to stay out of this fight, and for what? Money? Status? Randi's current mindset is selfish, which isn't her.

But itisthe safe option.

That’s where the other half wants me to plant my flag, to side with her. Randi already has a target on her back between Birmingham, Whit, and the rest of the aristocratic dipshits who don’t want to change. Assisting on this investigation will put her safety in more jeopardy. Plus it’ll put her working side by side with the man she no doubt finds attractive.

So which do I vocalize?

The smell of burnt bread draws my focus from the white subway tile I'd mindlessly focused on to the pan.

“Shit,” I hiss. Flipping the sandwich, I curse again at the blackened bread. Out of nowhere, my patience snaps. The knob nearly snaps as I twist off the gas flame. Grabbing the sizzling pan with the ruined sandwich, I toss it into the sink with more force than necessary and storm out of the kitchen.

The soft leather recliner molds around my ass and back as I fall into it. Closing my eyes, I take several deep breaths in an attempt to calm my rising anger as heat fills my veins. I shift in the chair, grumbling to myself as I try to get comfortable but fail miserably.

With an annoyed sigh, I reach up and massage my forehead where a blooming headache has started. Even with the soft groan of the leather as I attempt to settle deeper into the chair, her soft footsteps meet my ears. An intoxicating cherry vanilla scent fills my nose, easing the building stress behind my chest. I peek one eye open and watch as she removes one small shoe and then the other.

Slowly, she crawls into the recliner, settling in the small open space between me and the armrest. I exhale long and hard through my nose, pushing out the earlier annoyance. Fingers in her hair, I tuck her head against my chest, then rake them through the soft strands. With each stroke, my earlier anger at the world disintegrates.

“It'll be okay, Mess,” I whisper. Her head lifts, lips parted, but I capture her mouth with my own before she can get a word out. “Let's just relax, hang out. Let everything else wait. I need this, just us acting like there’s nothing else going on, even if it's just for a few minutes. Let's pretend to be a normal couple for just a little while,” I say against her lips, my eyes searching her wide hazel ones.

“Okay, Trouble.” With another quick peck, she lowers her head and snuggles deeper into the chair, moving me out of the way until she’s comfortable. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Unable to resist, I press my lips to the top of her head and smile. “Sure, baby.” Stretching to the side table, I swipe the remote off the metal top and press a few buttons. The massive TV comes alive withSportsCenteras their voices boom from the surround sound. “What do you want to watch?”

No response comes. Tucking my chin, I search her face and smile when I find her eyes closed. Leaning back, I press the button that extends the leg portion of the recliner and leans the backrest backward. She grumbles as the chair moves but doesn't wake.

With another soft kiss to the crown of her head, I rest my head back and close my eyes, savoring the moment. I know it won't last long, but I wish with all that I have that it would.

6

Randi

Aloud noise interrupts the peaceful sleep I'd slipped into. Blinking a few times, I keep my cheek nestled against Trey's chest as I fight the lingering drowsiness that always comes after taking too long of a nap. Trey's arm tightens around my waist, preventing me from wiggling out of his snug hold.

Lifting my head, I search the room. T sits on the couch, eyes glued to the baseball game playing on the massive screen. His attention swings to me before focusing back on the game.

“How long was I out?” I whisper to not wake Trey.

“Nearly two hours,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Playboy there fell asleep almost immediately after you. I'd say you both needed a break.”

I let out a deep breath and lay my head back on Trey's chest. “Two hours,” I say in disbelief as the realization shatters the peaceful calm. My mind races with all the things I need to do. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, dispersing the lingering effects of the nap. “I need to go.”

T shakes his head. “You're right where you need to be.” His eyes leave the screen to meet mine. “You both have a lot on your plate. You need times like this to make it through it all.” I swallow back the emotions his words evoke and nod in agreement. “It won't be easy, but the stuff worth fighting for never is. But you have to realize he's under just as much pressure as you are. Different pressure, but it's there. Add in this new challenge with the DOJ, and our boy here's near the snapping point.”

“What about the DOJ?” I whisper, stealing a quick look up to make sure Trey's still asleep.

Tank shakes his head. “Sam might be someone we can trust with whatever shit Birmingham's stirring up, but can you trust yourself around him?”

Heat flashes beneath my cheeks. “What's that supposed to mean?”