Page 26 of Sugar & Shadows

She huffed. “It’s the look of a man who knows he’s the weak link on this team. And that’s okay. I’m used to carrying mediocrity on my back across the finish line.”

Aggravation sparked inside me, overpowering the impostor syndrome. “I’m reviewing this helpful information. Your organization is…” I exhaled through my nose. “Sufficient.”

She barked out a laugh. “Don’t worry. You’re still allowed to hate me.”

“Oh, I do.”

But I didn’t hate these files.

Color coded.

Tabbed.

Strategic.

With many threads to pull. Connections and grants and avenues we’d never considered for Maplewood.

And the worst part? The irritating, horrific part of this was that a tiny, traitorous fraction of my brain found it… attractive.

I cleared my throat and focused on the road ahead. Only an hour and a half left.

Chapter 7

Sabrina

The Vermont statehouse was all polished wood and quiet power.

As we strode down the marble hallway, passing a bust of Abraham Lincoln, I adjusted my coat and lifted my chin higher, clinging to the air of belonging. Because I did belong here.

My companion, Mr. Aw Shucks in a Flannel Shirt, had donned a surprisingly nice suit.

Here at the statehouse, I expected him to hesitate, to second-guess himself.

He did not.

Instead, he trooped beside me with a good-natured smile like he, too, had every right to be here.

Irritating.

Unsurprisingly, the director of tourism kept us waiting.

A balding man with wire-rimmed glasses and small dick energy, Keith Hurst was everything I hated about bureaucracy.

But he was everything I loved in an opponent.

Full of himself.

Not great with numbers.

And thoroughly convinced he was right.

Politeness with an air of condescension. Dismissive too. He had already decided Maplewood was a liability and didn’t seem to think this warranted further thought.

When he smiled across the conference room table, I knew I had him.

I took my time setting my portfolio on the table. If I rushed, it would take away from the sweet moment when he realized I had his ass nailed to a wall.

“Our decision,” he said when the silence got to him, “was purely based on⁠—”