“More than likely,” I reply, standing from my chair and buttoning up my navy suit jacket. “You said forty-eight hours?”
“That’d be two days,” she sasses back.
I prop my ass on top of my oak desk. “What’s in it for me?”
Her brows furrow. “I’m sorry?”
“I said...what’s in it for me?”
Dangerous words since I just spoke to her as Chase, but I’m curious.
Everything comes with a price, I want to know hers.
“Depends if you can make it happen, Governor. I don’t make blind bets with anyone unless I know you can deliver.”
Smart girl.
I still wear my poker face as I incline my head. “I can make it happen, Miss Shelton. It’ll be difficult, but I can pull it off.”
“I’m surprised,” she blurts.
I raise my brow. “And why’s that?”
“Doesn’t seem like your scene.”
“It’s not,” I share. “But it’s good to have connections.”
“What do you want?” she asks with a shrug. “More Chinese deliveries?”
“No, thank you, that didn’t end too well.” I spent the night drinking half a pint of Jim Beam and almost deleting my version of Chase from my phone.
This mild obsession, the need to have her in my life, it's consuming, terrifyingly so.
I've never felt this vulnerable yet intrigued by one person. How her personality, as snarky as it is, is a turn-on, and her confidence is another.
I’m playing fire. Now I’m aware of what an arsonist feels like when they hold peril in their hands.
Reagan takes another step towards me, tossing her purse on one of my chairs.
“Is this where we fight?”
A soft chuckle leaves her lips. “Why, you’d lose. Wouldn’t be much fun.”
“Ah, yes. I’m a stuffy politician who’s never been in a fight before. Silver spoon, rich family, never fought at—” I almost say Yale, where Chase and I both went to school.
And she knows that.
The similarities are too coincidental, and I'm not going to go there.
“Fought where?” she presses with another step.
“School,” I deadpan.
“Did you get suspended?”
“Three times.”
She stops less than a foot away from me. “And your daddy probably got you out of that.”