My cheeks heat. “What do you know about that?”
“People tell me things,” Nolan says. “This isn’t my first walk in the park . . . or ballpark, either. I’m sure Graham is in here now trying to talk some sense into you, warning you to keep your nose clean. And he’s right, Barrett. There’s way too much riding on this for you to be stupid.”
“I’m not being stupid,” I protest. I glance at Lincoln and he rolls his eyes, his disdain for Nolan palpable. “I’m just friendly with her. That’s all.”
“Keep it that way. She’s divorced, had assault charges leveled at her in New Mexico by a member of the press.” Nolan takes his glasses off and looks at me like he’s won some victory.
I narrow my gaze. “I understand you’re doing this because it’s your job. But I need you to back the fuck off, okay?”
My head spins with this new information, but I can’t let him see that. It’ll show a ding in my armor and I don’t want him trying to exploit it. Still, I’m shocked at his accusation and wonder if it’s true and, if it is, what the story is behind it.
“I’m going to assume,” he mocks, pulling his hand away from his face, “that you’re going to listen to your brother.” He looks at Graham and Lincoln. “Graham. Not that one,” he says, nodding to Linc. “And stop this before it causes us a lot of problems to fix. Years of work have boiled down to this moment, Barrett. Don’t blow it for, well, a blow.”
I laugh, but Nolan blanches at the anger laced none too quietly in the sound. “Here’s your problem,” I say through gritted teeth. “You know nothing about Alison other than the secondhand, or maybe thirdhand, information you’ve acquired through your back channels. And you, of all people, should know just how many times they get the facts right.”
“Are you defending her?” he asks, his brows lifted.
“Yeah, I’m fucking defending her. She’s a good person and it pisses me off to hear you act like she’s some kind of cheap date.”
“Let’s be honest,” Nolan says, standing, “that’s your typical method of operation.”
“I—” I start, but Graham stops me before I get going.
“Let’s all just settle down,” my brother says, looking me in the eye. “Our focus needs to be on the election, not Barrett’s flavor of the week.”
My mouth opens quickly to send him a message, but the look he flashes me stops me in my tracks.
“Now, let’s talk about Monroe,” Nolan says, sliding his glasses back on his face. “I know you’re having some rebellious feelings towards the Land Bill, but if you want elected, you’re going to have to be logical.”
“Logic says that it’s the wrong thing for the people of Georgia,” I point out. Again. “If that bill gets passed, a bunch of wealthy families, like my own, make more money. If it doesn’t, businesses come in. People go to work. The economy flourishes.”
“That’s great in theory, Barrett, but it’s never going to happen. Hobbs has already guaranteed Monroe he’ll vote for the bill. We know Monroe favors you, at least somewhat, because you’re in the same party and your families have been friends. But this bill is important to him.”
“Because he stands to make twenty million dollars,” I snarl.
“He’s right,” Graham gruffs. “You’re going to have to make some decisions. You have to decide what you want in life and make a plan and follow it.”
The innuendo isn’t lost on me and I want to lash out. But I don’t. Because at the end of the day, these men want what’s best for me.
“I’ll think about it,” I say. That seems to pacify them all, except Linc who looks disgusted by it all. “I have some meetings, so if you all can excuse me . . .”
They get the point and head to the door. Linc is the last to leave. Before he exits, he turns to me. “You know what I have to say about all that, yeah?”
“What’s that?”
“Fuck it. Do what makes you happy.”
The door closes behind him and for the first time in my life, I take my youngest brother’s advice.
Alison
“Did you get everything?” I ask, giving his backpack one final glance before zipping it up. “You guys are going to have so much fun.”
“We will. Even if we catch nothing, it’ll be great because I got to miss school today,” Huxley points out.
It’s ten in the morning and I need to be studying. Instead, I’m being a mom, my favorite job in the world. I’ll have to catch up on the other part later.
“Tell Grandpa to make sure you wear a life jacket, okay?” I ask, kissing him on the head as he tries to bolt for the door. “If you fall out of the boat, we’ll have to miss using up those season tickets.”
He looks horrified. “Don’t even joke about that. I wish it was time for baseball season already!”
“I know,” I grin, remembering how he jumped up and down when I told him about the tickets. “But it’s not, so have fun with Grandpa.”
“Okay, Mom! Love you!” he says.
By the time I get to the door, he’s in my father’s truck. Dad rolls down his window.
“I’ll make sure he wears a life jacket,” he winks.
“And no leaning over the boat. I don’t care how big the fish is,” I wince. My heart wobbles in my chest. “Okay?”
“I’ll keep him safe. I raised you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but he’s my baby.”
“And you were mine.” He winks and rolls up the window. I wave as they back out of the driveway and are out of sight.
My phone rings in the kitchen and I grab it on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, Alison,” Barrett’s voice melts through the phone. “How are you?”
My stomach flurries, a smile painted on my face without me realizing it. I take a seat at the table and try to seem chill.
I’ve been thinking about him a lot, preparing for this phone call. It was hard to sleep last night after the game. I spent the endless night hours searching my heart for my truth, what I wanted and what I think I can and should handle. Even though I tried to talk myself out of it a hundred thousand ways, I always came back to wanting more of the feeling I get when I’m with him. I’ve missed it, the sensation of feeling like a woman.
Sometime around six this morning, I made a deal with myself: I’ll see him again when he calls. And if he acts like an ass again, I’ll walk away and feel good about it.
And if I happen to actually see his ass in the meantime, I’ll consider it a bonus.
“I’m good. Well,” I say, caving to my anxiety, “not really. I just sent Huxley off with my father for a little fishing. I’m a nervous wreck.”
“Ah, skipping school for some sun? My kind of kid,” he jokes.
“He never gets to do that kind of thing, so why not?”
“You can learn just as much outside the school walls as you can inside.”
“Yeah, now if I can just block out the drowning aspect, it’ll be great.”
He laughs, a smooth, sexy sound that distracts me. I’m glad for it.
“We used to go boating every weekend in the summer,” Barrett says. “It’s good to have some experience with water in a controlled environment. I’m sure your dad will watch him.”
“He will. I just feel like it all falls on my shoulders, you know? And I feel like I’ve let him down so many times in his life already that I need to be especially vigilant.”
“I doubt that’s true.”
“It is, but let’s not talk about it. What are you doing today?”
His sigh drifts through the line. “Meetings. Committees. Interviews. Battling back this statement from Hobbs’ campaign today.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No. Not really.”
I can tell he’s bothered. It’s in the strain in the edges of his voice, the grit that scratches at his tone.
“I’d rather talk about you. How are you? How was your day?”
“Good. Busy. A touch lonely,” I hint.
“Have you given any thought to seeing me again?” he asks, his voice soft.
“A little,” I lie because it’s dominated my thoughts.
“I hope that it’s only a little because it took you two seconds to realize it was a good idea.”
“I want to . . .” I stand and try to keep my head clear.
“What are you afraid of, Alison? Talk to me.”
I decide to bare my soul. Leave it all out there, and then, maybe, my decision will be made for me.
“When I’m with you . . .” I begin, trying to figure out where to start.
“You find yourself smiling? And then you leave me and all you can think about is how to manage to see me again?”
My ears are sure they’re hearing things. “Barrett . . .”
“I’m not asking you for anything more than a bit of your time. I just want to see what it is between us that drives me insane. That keeps me up at night, that brings you to mind when I should be working on the campaign.” He takes in a rushed breath. “If you aren’t in the same boat, so to speak, then I’ll stop this pursuit. But, Alison, I think we are paddling towards the same target. We just need to see if we can get there if we paddle together.”
It’s do or die time and I have to pick a direction. If I seriously don’t want to see him again, I need to let him go. He’s right. But the thought panics me, sickens me. The idea of not having a chance at it being him on the other end of the phone when it rings feels so bad.
“What time is dinner?” I ask.
I can hear him grin through the phone. “I can meet you later tonight, or if you’d rather, I can make an hour or so in my schedule this afternoon for lunch?”
“I need to finish this paper I started earlier, but I work at four. Can you make it at one o’clock?”
“I can make it twelve or one or six if that means you’ll come.”
I smile like a loon. “At the Farm?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there at one. See you then.”
I hang up the phone and head to my closet to find something to wear.
Alison
THE WHEELS OF THE CAR crunch the gravel of the driveway. My heart rate picks up as I reach the end and flip the engine off.
Troy comes around the corner of the Farm and I give him a tight smile as I climb out.
“Are you okay, Ms. Baker?”
“I’m fine,” I say, nervously.
I am fine, just excited and nervous and ready to puke.
“I met Mr. Landry through his brother Ford. Have you met Ford?”
I shake my head, wondering why it matters to me how he knows Barrett.
“Ford and I were in the military together. Ford still is in the Marines, actually. Anyway, I opted out after a tour of duty overseas.” He leads me towards the front of the house, his pace decidedly slow. “We saw some action over there, and let’s just say it messed with me for awhile when I got home. I was pretty down and out, burned about every bridge I had ever built. And you know what?”
He stops in his tracks and looks at me, his grey eyes warm.
“Barrett was the only person that didn’t turn their back on me. I’d only met him twice before when I came around looking for Ford—I’d heard he was on furlough. I was a mess,” he grins. “And Barrett pulled me aside and helped me get cleaned up. He gave me a chance in his security detail.” His jaw stiffens, his eyes narrowing. “I know you don’t know him, and he may not like me even talking to you, and come to think of it, I’m not sure why I am other than I see a look of apprehension on your face. But trust me when I say, he’s the best man I’ve ever known.”
It does make me feel better, but it’s not something I didn’t already know. Barrett is a good man; I knew that from the moment he found me with Mr. Pickner. My nerves aren’t from that. They’re from just how good he might really be.
A fluffy yellow dog comes barreling towards us, his tongue sticking out of his mouth, from the other side of the house.
“Trigger, stop,” Troy commands. The dog sits without hesitation.
“Wow. He’s well trained,” I comment, following him to the steps.
“Of course he is. Ford wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Troy steps to the side as the front door sweeps open. “I’ll see you later. Enjoy.” And he’s gone.
I barely notice Troy’s departure because my eyes are glued to Barrett. He leans against the frame, one arm stretched overhead, a playful smile on his face. The edge of his white dress shirt lifts just enough to show a sliver of tanned and toned skin between it and the top of his jeans.
I should go towards him, say hello, but it takes a second to become acclimated to him—to the energy that rolls off of him in waves.
“Good afternoon,” he drawls. His voice is a mixture of sweet and simple, honeyed and complicated. It makes me go weak when I need to be strong. Taking a deep breath and gathering myself, I try to keep my hormones in check.
“Hey,” I finally reply, much to his amusement. His lips twist together in a cheeky grin as he pushes away from the door.
“Thank you for coming all the way out here.”
“Let’s be honest,” I say, the words struggling to get out as he draws near, “you weren’t going to make it easy to say no.”
His chest rumbles with a chuckle. “No, no, I wasn’t.”
He kisses my cheek. I want to turn my face and capture his decadently soft lips with my own.
“It’s beautiful out here,” I comment, feeling my cheeks heat from his touch.
“It is, isn’t it? This is my favorite place in the world.”
The wind breezes across the porch, a warm sputter of air that has just a touch of the autumn weather on its heels. The ferns rock in their hangers while Trigger walks beneath them, settling on a rocking chair in the corner of the porch.
Glancing up at Barrett, his eyes lock onto mine.
“Are you ready to go in?” he asks.
I nod and follow him inside. The soft thud of the door behind me echoing through the room.
I follow Barrett inside and through a cozy kitchen. We end up on the porch again, this time at the back of the house.
“Wow,” I breathe, spying a little lake at the far end of the lawn. “This is incredible. You’d never know this exists.”
“It’s perfect, right? It was my grandfather’s place and now it’s my father’s, technically. I probably use it more than anyone though. I stay out here a lot.”
“I would too. It’s so quiet.”
Barrett motions for me to sit at a table to our left. It’s a little round table with a white linen cloth surrounded by four wooden chairs. Two places have been set, each with a Styrofoam take-out container.
“I hope you don’t mind eating with plastic,” he grimaces. “I didn’t want to be too presumptuous and have Yolanda come out and fix something. So when you accepted my offer, I had to think quick.”
We exchange a smile, and once again, it’s effortless. Everything about him is so smooth, so easy. I keep waiting for the moment I think it’s a façade, but there are no cracks in his veneer.
“So, I’m guessing you don’t cook?” I ask, lifting the lid to my container as he does the same. Crab cakes and slaw line the inside, and the scents that rise make my mouth water.
“Cooking is one of the very few things I don’t do and have no interest in ever doing,” he laughs. “My mom and sisters did the cooking, and we had a housekeeper to pick up the slack. Now I have Yolanda.”
“You have people. That’s what you’re saying.”
He raises his fork with a piece of crab cake to his mouth. “More or less.”
“I’m taking it you don’t do dishes or laundry either,” I laugh.
“You’d be correct.”
“I’m kind of jealous of you and kind of sad for you.”
Laughing, he takes another bite. “I’d be sad about a few things in my life, but not having to do chores wouldn’t be one of them.”
“They�
��re a pain for sure. But as much as I hate the drudgery of daily life, I wonder how different my life would be if I didn't do them. In a way, all of the chores of life mean you have someone to cook for, someone to love that needs laundry. If there were no bowls in the sink or little dirty shirts to be washed, that would mean I didn’t have Huxley. They’re just little reminders of a full life, you know?” I pause before continuing. “But I’m not saying I’d turn down maid service.”
"Maybe I'll wash a bowl tomorrow after breakfast and see if it changes my perspective," he teases. "It might be a life-altering experience. Who knows?"
"Report back. Make sure you get a soap that will keep your hands nice and soft."
“Noted.”
We sit quietly, eating our food and trading smiles with each other. I don’t feel awkward or compelled to speak at all, which surprises me. It feels absolutely normal to just sit and enjoy each other’s company like this is a routine afternoon.
I’m in my head, thinking about how comfortable I feel, when I look up and into his eyes. He’s leaned back in his chair just watching me.
I flush. “What?”
“Just watching you.”
“Obviously,” I laugh nervously. “Why?”
He lifts his shoulders in a half-hearted attempt at shrugging. A smile curls the side of his face. “You’re crazy beautiful.”
“I . . .” I sit my fork down and place my hands on my lap. Forcing a swallow, I will myself to look back up at him. “Thank you.”
“You don’t take compliments well.”
“They’re always just unexpected. That’s all.”
His head cocks to the side, like he’s working a puzzle. “Men don’t tell you that all the time? I find that hard to believe.”
“Sometimes, yes, I suppose,” I say, searching for words. “I never really go out of my way to date or anything. So it’s not like I’m in situations where someone is going to blurt it out there.”
“You don’t date? At all?”
Shaking my head, I smile sadly. “No. Occasionally, I guess. But they’re few and far between. Intentionally,” I toss in at the last minute, not wanting to seem like I’m bad goods.
“Trust me when I say I fully understand why someone wouldn’t want to date at certain periods in their lives. I’m kind of there now.” He touches his finger to his lip, trying to hide a smirk. “I’m supposed to be there now,” he corrects himself.
Sway (Landry Family #1) Page 10
