Page 115 of Sugar & Shadows

“Because you’re not this guy,” she said, standing up. “You’re not a man-child or a slob.”

I grunted. “Maybe I am.”

“Nah.” She shook her head. “I’ve met your mom. Oh shit.” Eyes widening, she looked around at the mess. “Has your mom seen this?”

“No,” I protested, suddenly antsy to move. “No one sees my house.” Because if they did, they’d see beyond the clean-cut, smiling mayor to the mess beneath.

“What does that mean?”

“Logan is here occasionally, but we mostly stick to the garage. I don’t let anyone else in.”

“Why?”

“Because.” I let out a sigh and scooped up a pile of laundry that was draped over the armchair.

Beneath it, I found even more clean laundry I hadn’t bothered to put away. Jesus, I was a mess.

“The Gabe who exists out there”—I waved toward the door—“is not the Gabe who exists in here. My house is my sanctuary. No expectations here. No people to disappoint. No impossible standards to achieve.”

Arms crossed, she lifted a brow, signaling for me to continue.

“I can’t keep up with it all the time. Doing everything for everyone. Being perfect and kind and thoughtful and capable every minute of the day. It’s suffocating out there.” The words spilled out before I could stop them. “In here, I can breathe.”

She nodded like what she understood my idiocy. “I’m sorry.”

My mouth went dry. “You’re not going to judge me?”

She stood, leveling me with a look. “No. Because I understand, and I empathize.”

Something inside my chest loosened. Her response was more than unexpected. “Earlier, you were threating to castrate me, in your words, ‘like a bull.’”

“Yes, because I’m all hopped on hormones and I’m sleep deprived. But this?” She held out a hand. “This is human. And it’s surprising.”

“I am a human, Sabrina.”

“Yeah, yeah. But I assumed it was more of a Mayor Pro 2000–type robot situation.”

“Like a Terminator?” I resisted the urge to flex, instead putting down the laundry and walking toward her. Her hair was still wild, but her face was softer now.

I wanted to touch her. But I knew better.

“Yes, but less badass. Civil-servant Terminator.”

Amusement rushed through me. God, she was funny. I liked her. And that was a problem.

“That sounds boring,” I whispered, coming even closer, chasing the feeling that came from touching her.

She shrugged.

“So how do you do it?”

Her dark eyes were depthless as she studied me. “Do what?”

“Keep the perfection up? Be at the top of your game physically and mentally every day? Solve every problem, kick every ass.”

“Ever stop to think I’m just a more evolved human than you are?”

My hand moved on its own, despite the panic signals from my brain. Taking that strand of hair, gently brushing my fingertips across her jaw, and tucking it behind her ear. “I think about it every day,” I whispered. Shit. That slipped out. But I couldn’t stop myself. “You’re way out of my league.”