Sway (Landry Family #1) (7 page)

Barrett

THE GLOW FROM THE LAMP
on my bureau illuminates the room. I remove my jacket, tie, and dress shirt and toss them haphazardly onto the back of a chair. It feels good to be home, to be “off,” to breathe. I haven’t relaxed all night, except for the few minutes I was with Alison.

I should be rehashing the night, going over conversations, trying to get a feel as to who I can count in my corner. But I don’t. My mind drifts to her every time, and if I’m honest, I like it there.

Flopping back on the California king mattress, my body sinks into the down comforter. I let my lids close and Alison’s face pops up immediately in my mind. Her shy smile, the way her long lashes flutter when she’s embarrassed, how the corners of her lips tug when she tries to pretend like I don’t affect her as much as I know I do—the images blend together to form an amazing slideshow.

My phone rings on the table and I swipe at it with my hand until I find it. I glance at the clock and wonder who is calling me so late.

"Hello?" I ask. I clear my throat, my voice sounding gravelly from being up for the past twenty hours. I can feel every hour in the back of my neck, each frustration in the tightness of my muscles.

"Hey, brother. How are ya?"

"Hey, Linc. What’s up?”

I prop my head up on a pillow and get comfortable.

"Fucked up my shoulder, actually. I threw a long one from center and something snapped. I don't think it's a big deal, but I gotta see the team doctor in the morning.”

"Damn. I hope it’s nothing," I say. "At least the season is over, right?"

He blows out a breath. "Yeah. Silver linings and shit. So, enough about me, how's the campaign? Sorry I couldn't make it tonight."

"Don’t worry about it. It went well. I'll know more tomorrow when Nolan gets me the official report."

Lincoln laughs, his voice crackling through the receiver. He's never been a fan of Nolan. He thinks he's sneaky and uptight. He's probably right on the uptight part, but Nolan has worked for our family for years. He's the one with the blueprint to eventually get me into the White House.

"Yeah, you know how I feel about that. You don't need Nolan, man. Just turn shit over to Graham and you'll be fine."

"Graham doesn't have experience with this like Nolan.”

"But you can trust G. And trust is the most important thing.”

“Since when does my little baseball player brother know anything about business?” I laugh.

“I have investments,” he reminds me. “But you don’t have to know business to know about trust. If you have one person that has your back, you’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

“That’s true.”

Linc grimaces. He groans through the phone and I know he’s working his shoulder, trying to convince himself that it isn’t as bad as he’s been told.

“You probably need to rest that,” I point out.

“I am,” he barks.

“No, you aren’t. You’re working it around, trying to do the mind over matter bullshit that isn’t going to do anything but tear it up worse.”

“It’s fine.”

Rolling my eyes, I move the phone to my other hand. “Whatever you say.”

“Welp, not to cut this short or anything, but I have a call coming in I need to take."

I laugh at the hurriedness in his voice. "Piece of ass hitting you up?"

He clicks his tongue and I know I'm right. “Good to know I’m so high on your priority list,” I joke.

“I'll be in town tomorrow afternoon. See you then."

"Be safe."

Setting the phone on the nightstand, I glance at my clothes on the back of the chair. I need to pick them up, to grab a shower, to process the night. Hell, I really need something to eat.

Instead of sitting down with my briefcase or heading to the kitchen or shower, I sit on the edge of my bed and toy with the idea of calling Alison. My fingers itch to dial the number Graham located for me a couple of hours ago. Naturally, he doesn’t know why I asked for it, and he was too busy to look into exactly who it was, otherwise he never would’ve done it.

Glancing at the clock again, my spirits sink. It’s too late. She said she has a kid and I’d probably wake him up.

I fall against the mattress and think back to her big blue eyes. The way they sparkled when she laughed, how it felt when she wrapped her fingers around my elbow and let me guide her. She didn't lead me, didn't try to press her own agenda.

An undeniable smile breaks across my cheeks.

I’ve forgotten what it's like to have someone around that's not jaded by everything. Everyone I know, everyone I deal with, knows what to say and when and how to say it. They toe the line, don’t rock the boat, follow suit—pick your well-behaved cliché. They know what's expected of them and who not to piss off.

Alison seems to have some experience in this kind of life, yet she doesn’t seem like it affects how she behaves.

Focus, Nolan said.

Grinning, I realize I’m following orders. I’m focusing, all right. Just not on what he wants me to.

Barrett

THE EARLY AFTERNOON SUN FILTERS
through the curtains, the fall breeze dancing through the window. A gust picks up a stack of papers and ruffles them, threatening to send them cascading off the corner of my large wooden desk.

It's perfectly quiet here, the sound of birds chirping and an occasional noise from Rose, my secretary, downstairs are the only two things that disturb me.

I inhale a long breath of fresh air and try to absorb the peace. Between the planning committee, opening the bids for a new recreational area downtown, reviewing license requests from businesses, and taking calls from my election committee, my head is spinning faster than usual. The morning has been the new normal level of chaos. Just getting into the office downtown to do the work I was elected to do was a feat. Camera crews blocked the doors to the office, reporters shouting questions in response to Hobbs’ latest attack. It was a mess. By eleven, I couldn't take it anymore and grabbed Rose and headed here, to the Farm.

An old farmhouse that sits just outside the city, directly in the middle of a fifty-acre piece of property, this is my favorite place in the world. The front is heavily treed and it’s impossible to see the house from the road. It’s been the headquarters of my family's political campaigns and family gatherings for decades. It's now used by my father and Graham for business deals for Landry Holdings, by my brother, Ford, when he's home from the Marines and needs a place to decompress, and by me.

I close my eyes and feel the air on my skin, listen to the curtains sweep against the hardwood floors. I would love to take a walk through the woods, but there's no time for that these days. Each day that passes, the less inspired I am, the less I can remember what free time used to feel like and the more I struggle to remember why, exactly, this was a profession I wanted in the first place. Not being able to trust anyone, questioning everyone's motives, leaves me feeling completely alone. It's bizarre—the more public my life becomes, the more isolated I feel.

Adding to my distraction today is a certain beguiling girl. I think of things to say to hear her laugh, I come up with things to say just to get a response. I want to see her smile, smell her, hear her voice again so badly I can taste it and I don't know why.

This doesn't happen to
me
.

I'm the king at keeping things superficial with women. I've always been good at that, but it's a skill I've honed to a razor’s edge in the last few years because I can't trust anyone anymore.

I replay our conversation from last night, smiling as her laugh rings through my ears. She was on my mind when I finally fell asleep and the first thing I thought of when I woke up with a smile and a raging hard-on.

I grab the desk phone and press the intercom.

"Can I help you, Mr. Landry?"

"Yes, Rose. Can you order some lunch, please? Have it delivered?"

"Sure, sir. Your usual?"

"No,” I draw out. “Actually, I'd like to try someplace new. Have you heard of Hillary's House?"

"Yes. Of course."

I smile. "Excellent. Will you order me something? Get yourself some lunch too."

"Absolutely."

My grin grows deeper. "And can you see if an Alison Baker is working? If so, I'd like her to deliver."

"No problem."

"Rose?"

"Yes."

"Please keep my request quiet. Just tell the owner that I'll pay extra for the inconvenience, but I'd appreciate it, being that it's election season and all, that she doesn't know where she's going."

"Makes sense. I'll have something here soon."

Alison

"Free at last!" I sing, smiling at my co-workers and tossing a towel in the laundry chute at Hillary’s House. "That lunch rush just about killed me. The next time you make meatloaf, Opal, I'm calling in sick! I swear it brings them in from all over the city."

"Yeah, but you're done now," Opal sighs, sticking another tray of food in the warming drawer. "I'm here for another two hours."

"It'll go quick if you don't think about it," I wink. "Have fun! I'm out of here."

"Anything fun planned?"

"Just a long, over-filled bubble bath,” I sigh dreamily. “Hux is with my dad this afternoon fishing and I’m caught up on my homework for once. So I’m taking a few minutes and just pampering myself.”

Opal smiles. “Oh, honey, you need to do that. You never take time just for you.”

“It’s what mothers do, right?” I grab my timecard out of the slot and go to punch out. I stop, mid-air, when my boss comes around the corner. Her long, blonde hair is pulled back into a braid, her pink bottom lip in between her teeth. The way her eyebrows are scrunched, I know I'm screwed.

"Hey, Hillary," I say, my voice saturated with cheeriness. "How are you? I'm just
leaving
."

"Oh, is it time for you to go?" She acts surprised and checks her watch for emphasis. "Darn. It is."

"It is.
Darn
," I say, but I don't punch out. Hillary's House is a great job. Not to mention she's about the sweetest person I know. So if she wants me to stay, she knows I will.
Damn her
.

"You wouldn't happen to want to do me one little bitty ol’ favor, would you?"

"
No
," I tease, shaking my head.

"I need an order delivered out on Hammersmith Road. That's out by you, isn't it?"

"Um, like ten miles past me. Where's Dylan? Why doesn't he deliver it?"

Hillary looks around the kitchen and clears her throat. "Dylan is out on another delivery and this one needs taken now."

I slump against the wall, my dreams of a hot bath fading. "It can't wait ten minutes?"

"I wouldn't ask you to do this, Ali, if it wasn't necessary. I'll pay you overtime to take it. I'll pay you triple if you need me to."

"I'll take it for triple," Opal yells from across the kitchen. "Hell, I'll take it for double!"

"You are making pies this afternoon. Hush," Hillary admonishes her. She turns back to me, tilting her head. "
Please
, Ali. I'll save you a piece of the pecan pie Opal is making in a little bit."

"She gets overtime and pecan pie? I hate you both," Opal moans.

I sigh and put the card back in my slot. "Fine. I'll do it for double pay and pecan pie."