When she played the video, it was the incident she’d just witnessed—Dan Rutherford, running his mouth then getting schooled by Hazel. Right now, Leanne couldn’t make a decision regarding the dispersal of the footage. She had somewhere to be. So she wheeled and cut through the alley, avoiding the main street, and took the long way to her car.

If it looks like I need a boost later, I might circulate it. We’ll see.

She drove slowly, reflecting on the clash between her people and Dan Rutherford. Get your head in the game. Don’t let him rattle you.

This particular talk was small, a gathering of local women at the public library, but there were no unimportant moments of connection. She truly believed that. Twenty people or forty or a hundred, she’d speak sincerely every time. On the way, she rehearsed her speech until the words blurred, probably not the desired result.

When she hopped out of the car, she spotted Trev propped against the faded brick of the St. Claire Public Library, legs crossed at the ankles like he had all the time in the world. He had on faded jeans, a T-shirt that had been washed so often that the logo was faded beyond recognition, and a gray zip hoodie. Somehow, just seeing his face calmed her rioting nerves, and she rushed toward him. Before she even got there, he opened his arms and drew her in, reassuring and warm and—

Home. He smells like home. Trev was laundry detergent and lemony dish soap with just a whisper of grapefruit bodywash. Nothing glamorous, but so familiar and precious.

Have I ever been with anyone long enough before to be comforted by their smell? The answer terrified her.

He misread the tremor that ran through her. “Breathe, Butterfly. The people who signed up are interested in what you have to say.”

“You came,” she whispered.

Gentle hands smoothed down her back, stroking her until she closed her eyes at the pleasure of his touch. “Of course I did. I’ll be rooting for you.”

She’d never been the cuddly sort, preferring the quick satisfaction of sex to anything more intimate. But if she wasn’t careful, she could get used to this. “But I didn’t ask you to. I never told you I wanted you to be here.”

“Yeah, you might want to work on that. I’m not a mind reader. But I want to be here, so our interests coincide.” With his usual serene smile, he pretended to scoff. “Some First Gentleman I’d make if I didn’t attend my wife’s events.”

“What?”

“Ask Hazel Jeffords. Let’s get you inside.”