The governor laughed. “They always do. Taco Muy Rico hired Kenneth McGraw’s firm, that wily bastard.”
At least Ben had the decency to grimace.
“What’d we miss?” Wendy asked, as she and Dakota stepped back into the room. I wondered if Wendy knew why Dakota was so familiar with the governor’s house. I made a mental note to ask her the next time we were alone.
“Just explaining to Lee that we’re already behind the curve with McBuck,” said the governor.
Dakota sank into the couch and kicked off her shoes, curling her legs underneath her. I actually ran a finger over my jaw to make sure it hadn’t fallen open. On the one hand, Dakota sat like that all the time in her office, where she felt at home, and it was kind of adorable. On the other, did that mean she felt at home here with the governor? We weren’t that close, were we? What was I missing?
“I have full faith the Dream Team will find a way to win McBuck over,” Dakota said. Even her vote of confidence wasn’t sending me into waves of delirium like it normally would, because half my brain was still trying to puzzle her out.
“We’ve got it,” Ben promised, standing and brushing off his slacks. “But you’ll have to excuse me. I have a meeting in the capitol.”
The governor jerked a thumb in his direction. “Kid’s making me redecorate the Alamo room. Can you believe it? No appreciation for history.”
“That room is racist,” Wendy said, without batting a lash.
“What?” Governor Mane sputtered. “It’s been unchanged since the capitol opened in 1888.”
“Repeat that to yourself until you hear it,” I advised. I watched Ben’s back disappear through the front door. “In the meantime, please excuse me, too.”
I got up and raced after him, shooting out the door and clambering down the first set of ornate white stairs that led to the street below. I looked down and groaned. Only twelve million more steps to go, and Ben was somehow at the end of them.
“Curse governors and their delusions of grandeur,” I muttered. Then I yelled,“Ben!”
He froze and slowly turned. I can’t say the expression on his face when he finally made it around was particularly welcoming.
“Wait up!” I jostled down the infinite stairs until I finally made it to him and bent over, trying to catch my breath.
“What’s up, Lee?” From my vantage point, I could see Ben’s foot tapping impatiently.
“Lee?Ouch. I thought we were back to being friends again.”
The foot tapped faster. “And I thought you specifically asked me not to call you Stoner at work.”
“A girl can change her mind.” I blew out a breath. “Damn, I need to step up my cardio. A solid sex life doesnotcount as much as you think it will.”
Ben’s feet spun in the direction of the street.
“Wait, wait.” I pulled myself upright. “Only kidding.”
His brow furrowed. “Was there something you wanted?”
“Are we cool?”
Ben was quiet for a second, during which I studied his face and determined the exact shade of the circles under his eyes: midnight blue, like a velvety sky over a campfire. Then he blurted: “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the bed at Ely’s house. First of all, it was unprofessional, and I’m sorry. I hope you know I value you as a talented professional, and didn’t mean to cross boundaries.”
“Yeah, it’s a little too late for that. Which ismyfault, mostly,” I added, when I saw the look on his face. “Ben, you can toss your unwanted-advances-in-the-workplace apology script. It’s fine. Who’s to say I didn’t cut the heating in Ely’s house to lure you into bed and take advantage ofyou, anyway? Why do men always get to be the sexual deviants?”
Ben’s eyes widened behind his clear-framed glasses.
“Kidding. Yeesh. Such delicate sensibilities. Listen, Ben. We’re old friends who fell asleep next to each other on a work trip. Nothing happened. You can’t make up what a nothing burger that is. Bor-ing. If I tried to call HR to report myself, I’d make it thirty seconds in before the rep fell asleep on the other end of the line.”
“Forget what I said about valuing you as a professional. It’s worrisome you’re in charge of communications for an actual company.”
I waved a hand. “I’m just saying, stop fretting. I’m not.”
“I don’t only regret it professionally,” he said. “There’s personally, too.”
