A Mistletoe Affair. Farrah Rochon

know there are margins of error, and I know that this race was close, but when I look at the districts that Oliver lost, it makes me even more convinced that there was some sort of tampering. Those were the ones that he should have won by the biggest margin.” He shook his head. “Maybe it’s the math nerd in me, but I just don’t see how I could have been so off with the data.”

      His pained expression was full of anguish. “I wish I could let this go, Vicki. I’m not oblivious to the rift this has caused between my family and the Howertons, and to a certain extent your family, too. I truly hope that it hasn’t affected the relationship between you, Sandra and Janelle.”

      “We’re Switzerland,” she said.

      “Yeah, that’s what Sandra told me, but still, it can’t be easy.”

      No, it wasn’t. There had been an underlying layer of tension around the Victorian since the end of the election. Yet as much as she wished Jordan would drop this, Vicki couldn’t help but be impressed by the way he’d held to his convictions, despite the enormous pressure he was obviously getting from all sides to let this go.

      “I doubt anything is going to change with the numbers in the next couple of hours, so why don’t you put that stuff away and get some rest?”

      “You’re right,” he said. He lifted the laptop from the bed and set it on the tufted ottoman in the sitting room area. He turned to her and held his hands up. “I promise that I’ll sleep this time.”

      “Good,” she said with a firm nod. A blue-and-white pamphlet caught her eye as she passed the dresser on her way out of the room. “Do you work with Mass Mentors?” Vicki asked, referring to the mentorship program she’d been a supporter of for the past few years.

      “Yeah,” he answered. “I’ve been helping out there.”

      “It’s a great program. I’ve brought in several of the kids to intern at Petals. They go out on deliveries and a few are even starting to learn floral design.”

      “I didn’t realize you were involved with the program,” he said. His voice softened with appreciation. “That’s wonderful, Vicki.”

      Their gazes locked and held for several weighty moments. Jordan was the first to look away, picking up a pen from the lap desk on the bed and tossing it on the nightstand.

      “Uh, we didn’t discuss any kind of payment for the babysitting. How much...” His words trailed off and his mouth dipped in a frown. Probably because of the daggers she was shooting at him right now with her stare. “What?” he asked.

      “Are you deliberately trying to annoy me?” Vicki asked, making sure her displeasure came through her voice. “I volunteered to watch Mason out of friendship. Don’t you dare suggest paying me, Jordan.”

      “Sorry.” He held his hands up in mock surrender once again. “It looks as if I’ve made a world championship sport out of offending you today.”