Page 22 of Governor

Even dressed like this, she’s still beautiful.

“You guys are right on time. Welcome.”

It’s not exactly sparse, but it looks like she went shopping at IKEA to furnish it to the bare minimum. Yet it still has a homey feel despite that.

I relax immediately, liking the vibe. It’s not the slightest bit pretentious.

“You live here by yourself?” Carter asks as we follow her inside, his head craning as he looks around.

“Yep.”

“Why didn’t your dad want you living in the dorms? Was he worried about your safety?”

She snorts. “Not exactly. More like my privacy. Or, to be more accurate,hisprivacy.”

I let Carter do the talking. “Why?”

We reach the kitchen and while they’re playing conversational tennis again, I’m swept up by the room. Dark grey granite shot through with threads of black and gold, dark cherry cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and expensive charcoal-colored slate tile floors.

Fuck the rest of the house, thiskitchenis likely worth more than my mother’s house.

“Because I’m Benchley Evans’ daughter. There are people who’d pay big bucks to hack into my laptop and see my communications with him. Or see what I might be doing that could be leveraged against him as embarrassing information. Anything they think they can use against me or him.”

“Is there?”

She turns and leans against the counter. “My daddy didn’t raise an idiot. This is another reason I broke up with Kendall. He’s a…liability.”

“That’s an interesting way to phrase it.”

“He likes to party, likes to have a good time. Drinks too much and talks too much. His family’s carrying some serious financial debt, too, which I didn’t know at first. That all adds up and makes him an additional liability for a number of reasons.”

“Is that important to you, that people have money?”

“No. It’s not his income bracket that’s the problem, it’s his debt-to-assets ratio. He’s already in debt for running up a credit card he never should have applied for when he was eighteen. Used it to buy a gaming system and stereo for his car. Idiot. Besides, I don’t like feeling that maybe one of the reasons he’s dating me is because he thinks I’ll pay for stuff. I’m a trust-fund baby, not a trust-fund idiot.”

“I don’t know about Owen, but I’m debt-free.”

I realize I’m being brought into the conversation and turn. “I don’t have any debts. No money, but no debts.”

“That’s fine,” she says. “I appreciate your honesty, both of you.”

“How old are you, again?” I ask.

She wears a smirk that would do Carter proud. “Everyone assumes I’m close to thirty. I just turned nineteen. Some kids had expensive private schools and tutors—I had the halls of our state capitol. I learned at the sides of the best political assholes this state ever hatched or imported, and I plan to show them all up. I’m going to get myself elected governor.”

Her tone bears not a hint of braggadocio. She says it in a quiet, calm way, as if listing items she purchased from the grocery store.

I needed milk and eggs.

I bought cereal.

Apples were on sale.

I’m going to get myself elected governor.

I thinkthisis the exact moment I know for certain I’m in love with her.

Okay, sure, I will admit I spent a moment wondering if I’d be the First Gentleman of the state, or how that title worked, exactly.