“What happened during the political campaign?”
Mia’s eyes dropped. She concentrated on slicing the corner of her lasagna with her fork. “There’s not a lot to say. He lost.”
“That’s not what I’m asking. Why would I care about some random politician?”
Her eyes slipped to his. Was he implying he cared about her? She’d hold onto this for now. “Do you think I have a killer instinct?”
“You’re definitely ambitious. But if you’re asking if I think you’re cutthroat, I’m going to say no. At least, I’ve never seen that side of you.”
Her fork swiped across her plate, spreading tomato sauce on the white surface. “You’re not the only one to see this. People say they want someone brilliant or organized or simply ‘the best’ for their team, but sometimes what they really want is something I don’t have. I’m branded as Little Miss Perfect or a ‘nice girl.’ Once I get this label, it’s easy enough to dismiss my value as nothing more than a glorified office girl who’s around to take coffee orders.” Mia’s lips pulled in a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “I guess it gave me some experience for working at Pony Expresso, where I’m still taking coffee orders.” Her smile faltered when it wasn’t returned. “Well, let’s just say I wasn’t really trusted enough to do the job I was hired to do. In fact, the male intern under me was allowed more responsibility than I was. The most excitement I had was writing tweets to clean up whatever mess the candidate got himself into with his mouth.”
Mia didn’t really want to have this conversation, not when it was better to keep things airy and light. This was especially true because her excuses sounded weak even to her own ears. Who did she think she was? Did she expect to burst through to the top of the talent pool? Maybe this was possible when the pool was smaller. But when it was an Olympic-size pool, she was one tiny, insignificant cog in the system. And how could she burst through when her heart was never in it? Everything about it depressed her.
But Ross’s expression was one of deep seriousness as he studied her. It was the familiar intensity he exuded when he was using his x-ray ability to pierce through to the marrow of truth.
She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Also, the more I learned about the candidate behind the scenes, the more I came to dislike him. I just grabbed the job because it felt like what I was supposed to do. It was clear he had no moral compass and winning was more a matter of pride than civic duty. Here I was trying to paint a good picture of the guy for the public, but I knew it was a lie. So either I was lying, begging people for campaign funds, or getting coffee orders. That was my whole experience. Anyway, the work I was doing didn’t make me feel very good, like I was in the process of selling my soul.” She sneaked a peek. “Does that make you think less of me?”
“Why would I think less of you?”
“I don’t know. If I help someone with no moral scruples, maybe it means I don’t have any either. Anyway, I’m glad he didn’t win, so I guess it’s a good thing I’m not applying to work for other campaigns right now.”
“So why stick with it?” he asked.
“There are other options for politics, like going into academics. I have a plan. Plus, when you make an investment like my parents did…well, the investment better pay off. Otherwise, it’s just a waste.”
“You haven’t lost your soul. You’re still you, Mia. And anyone who doesn’t see your true value deserves to lose.”
When his dark eyes caught hold of hers, she became captivated. His words meant everything, and Mia’s heart overflowed with the sentiment behind them.
“Nutmeg!”
“What?”
“That might be the secret ingredient in the lasagna,” she said.
The corners of his mouth kicked up in a grin. “You can trust me with your family secrets, Russo.”
Something inside told Mia she could not only trust him in this but in all things. Ross would always be someone she’d be safe with. If she’d learned one thing from her independent venture into the real world, it was how rare this feeling was.
But Ross might not be able to trust her. She had made him a promise, a promise involving keeping her hands to herself. All Mia’s hands wanted was permission to roam his body, and her lips were requesting the same for his face. She knew why she shouldn’t do this, and it was for all the reasons Ross provided earlier. But she was tired of playing everything in her life with a calm rationale. He made her want to dive headfirst into the lake without checking the depth beforehand.
“Ross,” she said, turning toward him. Mia suspected he was reading her thoughts or contemplating similar ones, because he was nearer, his eyes softening as they took her in. The electric spark of a kiss floated on the horizon, and neither one was going to fight it. She sucked in a breath, her eyelids fluttering shut, as their faces drew closer.
“Ahem!” The gruff throat-clearing shattered the moment from the kitchen entrance.
They sprung apart as the judge strolled in.
“Dad, what are you doing here?” She took a sudden interest in her dinner, swiping a strand of hair behind a reddening ear.
“Why wouldn’t I be here? This is my house. And what the hell happened to my kitchen?”
“Nothing. I just made lasagna. I’ll clean it up. Did you want a piece? It should still be warm.”
Her father studied Ross with a growing intensity. The subject of the judge’s scrutiny kept his own eyes downcast. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt anything, but it does smell good.”
“Yeah, okay.” Mia retrieved a plate for her father, loading it with a large slice. “By the way, this is Ross. We…uh, went to school together. He owns El Dorado Jewelry downtown.” If her father had disliked him before, as Ross believed, she didn’t want to jog her father’s memory too much. Perhaps this time, the judge would form a more fair opinion.
Her father appeared set on eating dinner at the kitchen island, instead of his usual habit of eating in the living room or in his office.
