He didn’t respond, although a red flush crept from his neckline to the top of those wide, proudcheekbones.
“That’s different. Helping you is helping thecommunity.”
He had methere.
“Well, I appreciate it. Yourhelp.”
“I want to see the better candidate win this.” I blushed hard, thankful he couldn’t see it. “You think he’sclean?”
“Who?”
“Your opponent. ClintRylie.”
“I don’tknow.”
“What if he’s not? What if he’scrooked?”
“Rylie’d never getcaught.”
“Whynot?”
“He neverdoes.”
Zach made a thoughtfulhmsound that was muffled when he took a longswig.
When he didn’t go on, I asked, “You grow up aroundhere?”
“Yeah. Righthere.”
“What school’d you goto?”
“Didn’t. I was home-schooled by mygrandfather.”
“Oh.”
After another sip of beer, he set the bottle down with a clunk. “Had very specific ideas about what a boy’s education should looklike.”
“Where is henow?”
“Passed away. A few yearsago.”
“So, it’s justyou?”
“Just me.” After a pause, he smiled. “And theinterwebs.”
It all came back to me again—that fear at the way those kids had reacted, roiling around in my gut along with my unexpected attraction for this man. “Whoareyou?”
He stilled, beer bottle halfway to his mouth. “What are youasking?”
“How’d you have access to those college kids? How did it take you less than two days to get more attention than we’ve gotten in six months of meet andgreets?”
“I’m alone here, but I’m not alone—outthere.”
“I get that, but not every computer-savvy person is able to drum up that level of support. It’s just notpossible.”
“No?”
“So what do you do? What makes you different?” And why did I feel like so much hinged on this response? I tried to relax my back as I waited for him toanswer.
