Eighteen
“Ihandled it for real this time.” Miriam waggled her cell phone before relinquishing it to the kitchen island, feeling a touch of residual guilt.
She kept thinking and rethinking about the reporters at the gate earlier this morning. She should have known. Of course, there was no way she could have known. Chase held her blameless, but it didn’t keep her from reliving the moment she’d pressed that button and wishing she hadn’t.
Chase, finished grilling ham-and-cheese sandwiches, slid them onto two waiting plates. The sight of melted cheese made her mouth water. He stirred the pot of tomato soup on the stove.
“These must be your specialty,” she said of the perfectly golden wedges.
“They are.” He sent her a wink over his shoulder and went back to stirring the soup.
“I know Rodney personally. He will plow your driveway without snapping a single photo.”
“Do you like crackers in your tomato soup?”
“I’ll dip my sandwich in it instead.”
“Exactly the way I like it. Another topic of agreement.”
Yes. They’d found several.
“He’ll be here within the hour,” she said rather than think of one particular act they had in common and were really freaking good at doing. “If you want me to handle that transaction, I can wait to take my shower until later.”
“I have it.” He ladled the soup into bowls, and lifted his eyes to hers. “Stop beating yourself up.”
“I’m not beating myself up,” she argued, though she kind of was.
“You’re not worrying about me? Concerned that my campaign has been undone by a headstrong woman who protests the oil industry?”
Okay, a little. She couldn’t help it. “Protested, past tense. I don’t protest any longer.”
“We suspected backlash could come as a result of the photograph. Emmett had a plan in place if it went live. He just hadn’t expected scouts to find us here. And he hadn’t counted on you being here, either.”
“You wouldn’t have let them through the gate, would you?”
“I’ve been doing this a long time, Mimi.”
Which meant his answer was no, he wouldn’t have.
“Do you trust Emmett?”
“With every detail of my professional—and personal—life.”
That made her feel marginally better. Chase had someone else looking out for him—someone he could trust implicitly. She knew his family was loyal to him and he to them, but she also knew how nice it was to have that one person you could talk to in shorthand. Kris was that person for her.
“How do you stand it?” She dragged her spoon through her bowl of bright red soup. “Having people excited to expose your secrets like that?”
“I ignore it. It’s a small price to pay to do the work I do. Besides, I don’t have any skeletons in my closet.” He gave her another teasing wink. “Save you.”
“Ha-ha.”
“It’s not worth giving my time or attention. Not worth yours, either. There are a lot of people who don’t have anything better to do than yell about what’s going on in the world. The problem is, they yell and don’t actually doanything. So while they’re yelling, I aim to be the one doing. The one doing makes the most progress.”
Spoon in hand, she paused to let that soak in. He sat next to her, eating his lunch, probably not thinking about the words that had exited his mouth. About how profound and meaningful they were. When she first met him, she’d been as mesmerized by the way he talked as she was by the way he looked. She’d been fascinated by his passionate and clear statements. Moved by his confidence. He was someone people loved to follow. A true leader.
His city needed him. Now that she’d shut down her selfish need for payback—or whatever the hell she’d been doing—she saw how good he was. Her instincts were spot-on. He was rich and powerful, but his will wouldn’t be bent by the promise of becoming richer or more powerful.
“You’re good for Dallas,” she concluded.