Out loud, I croaked. “Um, exactly why do you want to become a senator anyway?”

Josh stepped back, his expression going neutral. “That was always the plan. House of Representatives. Then Senate.”

Hmm… I didn’t love how automatic and rehearsed his answer sounded. Also…. “My sister said you only ran because Sawyer was no longer a viable candidate due to their whole….”

I searched for a polite way to describe his brother’s political career disruption story and could only come up with “…saga.”

Josh’s neutral expression didn’t shift. Not one inch. “Sawyer wasn’t able to complete the mission, so I took over for him. I’m fortunate that my father’s constituents accepted me as a worthy candidate.”

I scrunched my brow. “So you’re saying that you were happy to give up your law career and take your brother’s place on the campaign trail?”

Josh’s neutral expression remained, but his eyes became a little colder. “I’m honored to serve—whether it be my country, my clients, or my state.”

Wow, this guy had all the correct answers. I could tell what voters saw in him, and technically, I had everything I needed to write a speech as upright and capable as him.

But I couldn’t stop digging.

“You admired this cabin earlier,” I said, watching him closely. “Because it was quiet, with good sightlines. Are those things important to you after your time serving as a Navy SEAL?”

He stilled. “If you want more talking points for the speech, I’ve got a few in my bag. I can go get them out of the car.”

“A good speech—the kind of speech that changes hearts and minds isn’t just about the talking points,” I answered, trying to keep my tone as polite as his. “It’s about the candidate.”

Josh gritted his jaw. “You’ve got the hero stuff. That always polls well. And I’m a self-starter—you can say something about that. Also, my record speaks for itself. I’ve stood up against wasteful spending….”

I waited, all but twiddling my thumbs until he was done.

“Is that enough?” he asked when he finally finished.

“Oh, I was just being courteous,” I admitted. “That’s not even a beginning. If you’re looking for someone to turn you into a walking human interest story, I’ve got a friend from journalism school who freelances for Parade magazine….”

No more southern gentleman. He glared down at me. “What more could you want? I’ve told you everything there is to know about me.”

“You recited your resume as if I was a job recruiter,” I shot back, pissed off at him for even attempting to peddle that lie. “Tell me who you really are. What do you want? What would you be doing if you didn’t have your whole life planned out? What makes you, Josh Grant, a human being?”