And I can guarantee you he’d look good doing it, too.
Carter helps pair Dray with discreet beards for family functions involving his grandparents. His parents and brother know about him being gay, but they all pretend around both sets of grandparents, just to keep the peace.
Dray’s boyfriend goes, too. They’ve told the grandparents Gregory’s an orphan—which is technically true, since his asshole family disowned him when he came out—and that he’s Dray’s roommate—again,technicallytrue—so they welcome him as another grandchild and are none the wiser.
Once both sets of Dray’s grandparents have passed, the two of them plan to get married.
Dray finishes going over this week’s schedule with me. I don’t miss the playful smirk he’s wearing.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing, ma’am.” Unlike when Owen calls me that, themis lower-case.
“Just say it.”
He shrugs. “Your husband called me right before you returned. He told me that, in the future, I’m to snitch on you if I see you wearing panties, unless he’s specifically told me ahead of time he’s cleared it.”
I glare. “Snitches get stitches.”
He grins. “I’m more afraid ofhimthan I amyou, ma’am.”
I prop my elbows on my desk, my head cradled in my hands. “Dammit.”
He snorts. “Sorry, ma’am, but he outranks you.”
“I’mthe lieutenant governor.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you know damn well I’m running for governor in eight years.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I lift my head. “And as my chief of staff, you’ll still squeal on me even then, won’t you?”
He grins and shrugs. “Sorry, ma’am. Sarge outranks you.”
I slump back in my chair. “You’re not sorry one damn bit. I think you’re a sadist, too.”
“You might not be wrong, ma’am. Now, let’s firm up Monday’s schedule, please?”
* * * *
When I’m ready to leave and head to our townhouse here in Tallahassee, the FHP officer assigned as one of my permanent security detail is sitting at his desk in my outer office, along with my administrative assistant, Andrea. He goes ahead to get the car.
I personally don’t want a security detail, but Carter—and Owen—have insisted. Yes, it’s customary for the lieutenant governor to have security, but I was hoping to avoid it. They worry with Carter being Owen’s COS, and with me being Senator Benchley Evans’ daughter, that that it might paint a larger target on me.
And, as Carter informed me, if he wasn’t Owen’s COS,hewould be my personal security detail.
Our townhouse isn’t far from the Florida Governor’s Mansion, not even two blocks, but it might as well be miles away for me. I won’t be able to sneak back and forth very easily. It’s a quick walk for Carter, however, which is one of the reasons he selected it.
The other reason is that it’s a center unit. Owen owns the one to the left of ours, and Daddy owns the one on the right. Daddy’s sits mostly vacant, unless he needs to travel to Tallahassee for meetings or events. They used to have a house here, but sold it and bought the townhouse after Daddy’s heart attack. Once his term in the Florida Senate ended, they started living in their house in Brandon again full-time. Now, he and Momma are talking about buying another house here, since I’ll be here most of the time. If they do that, at least it means I won’t have to worry about them being right next door anymore.
Meaning we’ll have nearly guaranteed privacy.
We first invested in the townhouses when Owen was elected to the Florida Senate, which turned out to be a doubly good choice once I was elected to the Florida House of Representatives not long after. Just like with our two homes in Brandon, just outside Tampa, we’re usually using only one. Owen’s townhouse is for show. There is, in fact, a hidden door that connects our unit to Owen’s.
We pass the Florida Governor’s Mansion as the trooper drives me through the chilly January afternoon, and I stare at the place as we ride by. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve driven past that mansion in my life, or how many times I’ve been inside it as Representative or Senator Benchley Evans’ daughter.
