NO PIPELINE.
STOP THE PRICE TAG ON TEXAS.
Tasha leaned forward, peering through the windshield. “They’re right, you know. Burnside has made millions from the oil and gas lobby.”
He glanced at her in the rearview, brows raised.
“We discussed it in my poli-sci class a few weeks ago,” she said with a shrug.
“Is this one of your top causes?” he asked, no cynicism in his tone, just curiosity.
“Saving billionaires from ravaging our earth? Every day,” Tasha replied. “But we’re here for the kids tonight. You’re safe.”
“And the shrimp. I’m starved,” Caleb interjected, opening his door as soon as the car came to a halt.
Tasha sighed and slid out after him.
“Not supporting her charities,” Vince said when they were alone in the car. “The kid loses ground every time he opens his mouth.”
“You don’t seem overly broken up about that.”
“Who? Me?” he asked, glancing at her, not even trying to hide his amusement. “Tash may be slow to catch on, but she always seems to. I’ve learned to stay out of it. The losers always seem to find enough rope to hang themselves without my intervention.”
He opened the door as the valet approached. “Stay there, beautiful,” he murmured. “I’ll come around and get you.”
Erica hid a smile for two reasons: he’d called her beautiful, and she loved seeing him in protective-dad mode around Tasha.
She grasped his hand as he assisted her from the judge’s Mercedes. It moved to the base of her spine as he led her into the convention center’s side entrance. Once inside, the sounds of the protest muted, replaced by the hum of conversation and music spilling into the expansive lobby.
In the main ballroom, crystal chandeliers glittered overhead. Waiters moved through the crowd with trays of champagne. The room was thick with money, politics, and the careful civility of people who understood influence.
There was a short receiving line. Normally, she avoided them. Shaking hands was not her thing, but Vince navigated it expertly. He kept her fingers laced with his, preventing any contact as he introduced her to the organizers, whom he seemed to know well.
They found their table minutes before dinner was served.
Seated between Vince and his mother, with Tasha across from her, she listened as the conversation driftedfrom the who’s who of Austin society to funny family stories.Margie was warm and quick to laugh. Tasha had clearly inherited her father’s stubborn streak.
A commotion at the door drew attention before it was quelled.
“Friends of yours, sweetheart?” the judge asked, settling into his chair with a cup of coffee after a waiter cleared his plate.
“Anyone interested in saving the planet, absolutely,” Tasha said.
“From pipelines?”
“From politicians,” she corrected.
The judge skewered Caleb with a look. “How do you fall in all of this?”
He froze for a moment. Deer in headlights came to Erica’s mind. Then he raised his hands in surrender. “I’m staying out of this one.”
“Smart young man,” Margie murmured. “Change of topic. How ’bout those Astros?”
She knew what she was doing because the men, clearly Rangers fans, pounced on it.
For a little while, the tension that had followed Vince all evening seemed to fade. When Senator Burnside rose to speak near the end of dinner, it came roaring back.
As polite applause rolled through the room, Tasha groaned and pushed her chair away. “That’s my cue to get some air.”
