“Well, you knew that going in.”
I growl, exasperated. “Whose side are you on?”
“Well, what did you expect from this meeting?”
“I expected to get through two sentences of my pitch! I expected common courtesy! This jerk-off didn’t even humor me. He shooed me away like I was some annoying little gnat.”
Reliving Ben’s contempt is pissing me off all over again. The flip side of venting sessions with Stephen: my blood pressure goes through the roof.
“I’m picturing him like a lumberjack, with a plaid shirt and a hat with earflaps. And a mullet.”
I snicker at the visual. “You’re not far off. He’s probably some inbredDuck Dynastytype from the sticks. Backwoods Ben Mackenzie: tax reformer by day, hulking redneck by night.”
Stephen hoots.
“And he’s the legislative director! He’s literally one of Hammond’s top guys. How do you even get that job when you’re that big a dick?”
“He probably got the jobbecausehe’s a dick. You know how that goes.” Stephen rolls his eyes.
“It’s so hypocritical. If I were the world’s biggest bitch, I’d never get hired. In fact, I’d get fired. Blackballed.”
“Sing it, sister. Preach.” He holds his hands up like he’s in church.
I’m on a roll now. “I mean, no wonder our parties can’t get along. This guy is Exhibit A. He personified every stereotype: egotistical, closed-minded, patronizing. And I thought midwesterners were supposed to be these sweet farm boys with impeccable manners? He was even arrogant about Ohio, for crying out loud. Maybe I’d be more inclined to listen to someone who wasn’t from a flippin’ flyover state.”
“Actually, I’m from Texas,” a deep voice rumbles from over my shoulder. I swivel my head around just as a massive figure steps through the doorway.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
It’s him. Benjamin Mackenzie.
Chapter 3
Oh my God.
Heat floods my face. Actually, that’s an understatement—it’s basically melting off,Raiders of the Lost Arkstyle. Shame-adrenaline floods my system and I’m having an out-of-body experience.
I won’t be able to walk this back no matter how hard I try. It’s like when you write an email tearing someone to shreds and then instead of sending it to your intended recipient, you mistakenly email it straight to the poor soul you’ve just annihilated. Except this is worse, because I said itto his face.
I rewind my memory, frantically cataloguing the worst of what I just said. Maybe he only just got here. Maybe he didn’t hear much. I brave a glance at him. He looks angry, his expression as dark and ominous as a gathering storm.
So, yeah. Unlikely he missed all that.
I glance at Stephen and his mouth’s hanging open in a large O. We’re like twin Big Mouth Billy Bass fish. You could mount us on a wooden plaque and hang us on the wall and I think we’d be less stunned than we are right now.
I make a choking noise and start scrambling to my feet, but Ben holds up a hand.
“Don’t bother getting up. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your bashing session. And to think I was coming over here toapologizefor my mood earlier and wish you luck getting your bill passed. Which, by the way”—he huffs a laugh—“you’re gonna need.”
He turns and disappears through the door he materialized from. I look back at Stephen with wide eyes and a swinging jaw. His face mirrors mine—frozen in shock.
“I didnotsee that coming,” he says, a little dazed. “Scratch what I said about this day being boring.”
Before I can reconsider, my legs propel me off the couch and I dash out the door after him. I have no clue what I’m going to say, but I do know I need to apologize, stat. I don’t have time to put my shoes back on so I stagger out barefoot and immediately slam into the two flagpoles stationed outside our office, which collapse around me in a tangled heap. I bleat like a dying animal.
At the commotion, Ben glances back. When he sees me flailing on the floor, he takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling, as if praying for an intervention. He casts me a piteous look but grudgingly walks back and holds out a hand to help me up.
“I’m so sor—”
