Page 95 of Tips and Trysts

“He’s an ex,” I respond grimly.

“Wait,actually?” Surprised, Everett pulls back his head. “How many famous guys have you fucked?”

I contort my face. “Ew, did you just call yourself famous?”

“I have a Wikipedia page,” he replies, expression indignant (and truly adorable).

“Fine.” I sigh—twice. “Felix and I dated at Harvard, and it didn’t end well. It was a long time ago, but our beef has been simmering for so long that it’s practically falling off the bone.”

His nose wrinkles at once. “I’m still very much a vegan, princess.”

“Right—sorry. Well, now he’s probably here because he suspects there’s something going on between us and wants the details.”

Everett’s eyebrow rises. “Well, fuck that. I’ll make sure he stays away.”

I pause. “You’re not going to ask me about him? I was expecting more questions—dreading them, really.”

He shakes his head. “I can see how rattled you are, which is rare. That means whatever happened with Felix J. Worthington is big. We can talk another time.” He kisses me. “One secret isn’t going to ruin us.”

“I disagree,” someone chimes in from the other side of the room.

Startled, neither of us reacts until a small end table lamp flicks on, revealing Governor Logan seated in a plush armchair.

A tight, displeased glare etches into his statuesque face, and his eyes switch between Everett and me before they land on his son and stay there. “Secrets can be dangerous, don’t you think?”

Thirty-Two

EVERETT

“In fact,” my fathersays after he’s glared at me long enough, “secrets could destroy us if we let them.” He rises from his chair. “Who’s going to tell me what’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” Cora states without missing a beat.

A pang of guilt rolls through me. It’s bad enough Cora is in PR-mode, wearing a modest, boring ass cocktail dress despite my protests, but she just lied for me—again.

“If something were happening here,” my father goes on, speaking slowly while looking at Cora, “we should consider the optics of a woman like you seducing my only son.”

The room goes silent—I think. In truth, fury rings so violently in my ears that I can’t even focus until Cora grabs my hand.

“You think I pursued Everett? It would be more believable to say the bullet bounced off him and ricocheted into me, you dick-shaped—”

“I’d like to talk to my father alone,” I interject.

Cora’s brow furrows and she glares at me—rightfully so.

I squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry I interrupted you, but this is between him and me.”

Understanding passes over her face, and Cora bobs her chin.

Once she’s gone, I face my father again. There’s a vein protruding from his forehead, marring his classic features, and I bet he spent decades learning how to hide it.

“Go on,” I urge, breaking the silence. “Say it.”

His exhale is measured, and he raises his hands, gesticulating like a politician when he says, “Everett, your potential as a candidate—”

“Tell me she’s going to ruin my life. It’s what you’re thinking, so say it.”

“Everett,” he continues, composed as usual. “Son, this is a critical moment for our family. You and I are both running for office and our campaigns will impact each other whether we like it or not. I’m hosting a fundraising luncheon to kick off my Senate campaign next month, and I’d like you to introduce me. And Everett, the Logan family will be a real politicaldynasty.”

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