Rogue Affair
Page 5
“I’m sorry, love. I’m not leaving. We’re not leaving. We’ll stay here and fight. For us, for everyone. I didn’t mean to make you worry or make you afraid. I need you more than ever.”
Sean choked a grateful laugh and held Isaiah close, relishing his warmth and strength and everything he was. “I need you too. I love you more than ever and I wouldn’t want to face this with anyone else but you. You’re my rock, but I’ll try to be better about remembering that rocks get frustrated and worn down too. Everything is hard right now and I know it takes a toll and we’re not perfect and shouldn’t have to be. Let’s just be as kind as we can to each other, like stand back to back and take it all on, okay?”
“Sounds good. And maybe plan a vacation to Strasbourg?”
Sean smiled at his husband and strained upward to plant a kiss on his mouth. “Yeah. Let’s run away together.”
Thank you!
Thanks for reading Dedication of a Lifetime. I hope you enjoyed it!
If you’d like to know when my next book is available, you can sign up for my new-release mailing list at www.tamsenparker.com, follow me on Twitter at @TamsenParker, or Like my Facebook page.
Reviews help readers discover books. I appreciate all reviews and the time it takes to share your thoughts.
You’ve just read Rogue Affair, the second volume in the Rogue series. Rogue Desire, Volume 1, is also available. Keep an eye out for news about future volumes!
Other Books by Tamsen
The Compass Series
Personal Geography
Intimate Geography
Uncharted Territory
True North
Due South
The Cartographer
* * *
The Snow and Ice Games Series
Love on the Tracks (December 5th 2017)
Seduction on the Slopes (January 16th 2018)
On the Edge of Scandal (February 6th 2018)
Fire on the Ice (February 6th 2018)
On the Brink of Passion (March 6th 2018)
* * *
Camp Firefly Falls Continuity
In Her Court (2017 Season)
* * *
Standalone Novels
School Ties
His Custody
* * *
Short Stories and Novellas
Craving Flight
Looking for a Complication
(originally published as part of the For the First Time anthology)
Needs
(originally published as part of the Winter Rain anthology)
* * *
Anthologies
Winter Rain
Rogue Desire
Rogue Affair
About the Author
Tamsen Parker is a stay-at-home mom by day, USA Today bestselling erotic romance writer by naptime. Her novella CRAVING FLIGHT was named to the Best of 2015 lists of Heroes and Heartbreakers, Smexy Books, Romance Novel News, and Dear Author. Heroes and Heartbreakers called her Compass series “bewitching, humorous, erotically intense and emotional.”
She lives with her family outside of Boston, where she tweets too much, sleeps too little and is always in the middle of a book. Aside from good food, sweet rieslings and gin cocktails, she has a fondness for monograms and subway maps. She should really start drinking coffee.
tamsenparker.com/
Personal Proposal
Ainsley Booth
New boss. Secret crush. Big problems.
* * *
Brianne can’t afford a crush on her new boss. Thanks to a storm of media attention, she’s fled her old life and desperately needs to please the aloof and demanding Astrid Dane. So she ignores the zing of chemistry every time they touch, and the ache inside each night as she tumbles into a cold, lonely bed. But as their work gets harder, and their days longer, boundaries crumble and Astrid finally puts her cards on the table with an unexpected proposal.
1
Brianne
Today starts like any other day since January. I wake up, check Twitter, curse unrepeatable words under my breath, and furiously fire out some serious fact-checking into the digital universe. This morning’s outrage is about keeping national parks financially accessible. I do a quick ten-point tweet thread about the measurable cost to raising admission fees, then retweet a bunch of related articles by journalists I respect. All before I get out of bed. Before I shower and dress in my National Parks Service uniform.
The day continues as usual until late morning. That’s when the messages started flooding in. I try to ignore them, I don’t even open them after a while, but I can see enough from the preview that I know this is bad.
Very bad. Like, the jig is up.
My stomach twists as my phone vibrates with another email alert. I don’t check it, though. I’m driving a work truck—although I wouldn’t check my phone even if I were driving my own car.
I am a law-abiding, safety-conscious, reliable employee.
With the minor exception that I also have a secret Twitter account which I’m totally not allowed to have, which I use to correct misinformation about the environment and the National Parks Service, and also to reveal the ongoing cuts that are secretly slicing away from the budget, decimating the Department of the Interior.
Actually, decimating is probably an understatement now.
I should tweet that out. Right after I find my boss, quit my job, and run for the hills.
My pulse, already racing, jumps another notch to full-on panic as I turn the corner and skid across the gravel parking lot beside the ranger office Marcus Dane is working out of today.
And he’s already standing on the porch, either because he knows what’s happening, or my relatively high-speed approach alerted him. Either way, I am not cut out to be a super spy. Or an ordinary spy, either. The CIA would take one look at me and laugh their heads off.
I’m not even cut out to be an arm-chair resistance fighter on Twitter, apparently. After I turn the truck off, I peek at my phone through one eye, the other shut tight as can be. Like that will protect me from the inbox of persistent messages.
They all say the same thing, basically. Reporters and producers poking at my identity, asking for comment.
I held my breath in the summer when a reporter showed up and poked around Marcus, thinking he was responsible for the Alt Nat Park Service account. But she turned out to be really cool, and the story she filed wasn’t about me—or even him—in the end.
I thought that was the end of it. Marcus taught me how to be safer online, to use encrypted apps. Summer faded to fall, and by some small miracle, my contract was extended. I should have known it couldn’t last.
I’m shaking as I get out of the truck, phone glued to my hand. I’m going to be leaving an already stretched-tight park staff a little worse off, because they won’t be able to replace me.
But it’s either quit or be fired, and the latter will turn me into a national spectacle. Or a quiet scape-goat with a black mark on my record which precludes me from ever working for the federal government again, and since I’m a scientist, that’s a big chunk of future jobs I’d like to maybe keep on the table.
From the grim look on Marcus’s broad, bearded face, I know he knows what’s happening, and I know he’s not happy.
“I’m sorry.” My voice is shaking.
He points into the cabin.
Right. Not out here, where the last hikers of the season might witness the spectacle of one park ranger sobbing apologetically to another.
I walk in first. His office is Spartan and neat. I’ve always liked coming up here. Of all the full-time park rangers, he’s my favorite, and not just because he figured out early on what I was doing and instead of firing me, he taught me to cover my ass.
Behind me, he shuts the door forcefully. Not a slam. No, he’s got more control than that. But he’s not happy.
Neither am I. “I’m sorry,” I say again.
“Save it. We knew this might happen, and we don’t have a lot of time
. Your name is out there now. Who’s contacted you?”
“Who hasn’t?” I type my password into my phone and hand it over so he can scroll through my inbox. “There are dozens of emails. All came in over the last hour. I’ve dodged a bunch of phone calls, too. And I haven’t looked at Twitter.”
“Don’t.”
“Right.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Head out of town for a bit. Look for another job, because I need to quit before this turns into a three-ring circus.”
He rubs his hand over his jaw and gives me a dark, indecipherable look.
Is it too much to ask for a reference? Hysterical laughter tries to bubble up inside me and I quash it hard.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, my voice shaking. But I believe it, deep down. “I…uh…I have some contacts from school. I can probably find something in a few months.” I wince at the dent that’ll put in my meagre savings.
“Do you have a passport?”
Holy shit. My eyes go wide and my mouth drops open. Does he think I need to skip the country? That seems excessive. “Passport?”
“I have a cousin. In Canada. She’s a landscape photographer and could use a billy goat of an assistant, if you want a temporary job.”
Did he just call me a billy goat? I think he did. But he also offered me a life-line, and I’m not sure I deserve that. “You don’t need to help me. I’ve caused you enough trouble as it is.”
“I’m not offering this unselfishly,” he says dryly, his eyes never leaving my face as he rounds his desk. “I don’t want a horde of reporters coming out here. One was enough.” The first sentence is swift and hard, unyielding. The second, however, is laced with uncharacteristic fondness.
That’s always how Marcus talks about his girlfriend, Poppy. The reporter who came hunting for him, and left with a very different outlook on…well, probably everything. They’ve been dating ever since. Long-distance, because love doesn’t change the fact they both have jobs and commitments in two different corners of the country.
He hands me back my phone, then picks up a business card from his desk. “Do you want to get your version of the story out there?”
“I don’t know.”
He nods. “I get that. But if you do, you could give an interview to Poppy. I don’t know what she’ll ask you—she might not go easy. But she’ll find the truth and make sure it’s told.”
I take a deep breath. “I guess that’s all I can ask at this point.”
He passes the card over to me. “She should be able to take your call now. I’ll step outside and give you some privacy.”
2
Astrid
There’s nothing I like better than the sound of silence. It’s round and big and full of potential.
When my phone rings, I scowl at it. Demanding, piercing, rude thing. The opposite of the lovely silence it violated. I swipe it off the kitchen counter and glare at the screen.
Oh. “Marcus,” I say after accepting the call from my favorite cousin. “Is everything okay?”
He laughs. “Has it been that long, you assume I’m calling because of a family emergency?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Well, everything is fine.” He says the words carefully, like there’s a but.
It comes a second later. “I could use a favor, however.”
“Oh?”
“I have an acquaintance who is very good at mountain climbing. A very hard worker. Principled young woman.”
There’s something about the way he says principled that makes me think he means something else. “What did she do?”
“She didn’t do anything wrong. But she did get in over her head with some political activism, and she could use a stay-cation in the wilds of British Columbia.”
“I live in Vancouver.”
“So take her to the cabin. Put her to work. I’m sure you’ve just recently fired an assistant and could use a new body.”
I’ve happily gone without an assistant for the last year, because it’s just easier this way. But Marcus has always had a soft spot for stray animals, and never took no for an answer when our grandfather was reluctant to take them in. “Have you graduated from collecting stray pets to stray people?”
“I think technically speaking I’m asking you to take in a stray this time. She’s a great kid, Astrid.”
I laugh. “A kid. Oh, heaven help us both.”
“She’s smart, too.”
“Surely there’s somewhere closer you could hide her?”
“She’s not hiding.” He sighs. “This job wasn’t what she thought it would be. She took the election hard.”
I snort. Didn’t we all? But we fucking carry on. “And?”
“And she reminds me of you when you were young.”
God damn it. “Before I got all jaded and bitter?”
“Before you learned how to twist your anger into something productive.” He lowers his voice. “You know I’ve always got your back. But there are lessons she just won’t hear from me.”
One of the things I adore about my cousin, which puts him on the very short list of people I actually like, is that he never cares about the spotlight or recognition. And he quietly does a lot.
I sigh. “I’m not sure if I’m cut out to be anyone’s mentor, but sure. Send her my way. I’m heading up to Whistler in a few days anyway. But if she decides I’m too tough to work for, she needs to find her own way back down the mountain.”
“That was suspiciously easy.”
“Mmm. I actually need a favor in return.”
He laughs. “This is pretty much how my day has gone. Shoot.”
“I want to come and visit you in the spring. Photograph you at work.” Something he’s never allowed in the past. It’s a simple request for most people, but Marcus values his privacy for many reasons.
There’s a long stretch of silence before he responds, his voice gruff. “I may not be here in the spring.”
That’s new. It’s also not a no. Interesting. I spin around and lean against the counter. “What?”
“Lots of things are changing.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He laughs. “I’m in love. With a reporter from Washington, D.C.”
“That sounds terrible.” I don’t bother to try and cover my shock. “How did that happen?”
“Ask Brianne when she gets there. Speaking of…I have to go. I’ll email you her flight details. She’ll arrive sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
I sigh as he disconnects the call. Great. Now I need to dig out the spare room.
I leave my phone on the counter, though. At least I can work in silence. That’s been more than enough noise for one day.
Brianne the Kid. What the hell am I going to do with her?
3
Brianne
It takes the rest of the afternoon to officially disentangle myself from the Park Service and write a dozen polite, professional, not-at-all panicked email job inquiries to people I know. When I finish at the main building, my boyfriend Kaden is waiting for me in the parking lot.
I’ve quit my job. I’m leaving Colorado.
He doesn’t pass judgement on either of those things, though. He gives me one of his trademark warm hugs and I breathe in the scent of his skin. I’m going to miss his hugs. He’s been a simple, solid support over the last nine months as I’ve railed about the injustice of…well, everything.
“I have an early morning flight out of Denver,” I whisper, my voice catching in my throat.
“We’ll miss you.”
I smile against his chest, and the ache in mine eases. We. There’s a solid climbing community here for me to return to when the furor dies down. “Can I stay in your van when I get back?”
He laughs. “Always. Can I stay in your apartment until your lease is up?”
“Of course.”
“Are you coming back?”
I sigh. “I don’t know.” My phone vibrates, and I pull it out, wincing.
But it’s not a reporter. It’s a reply to one of my job inquiries.
My heart leaps into my throat as I click on it and read through the brief message. The adventure camp I worked at through college would be happy to have me as a winter guide at their Berkshires starting in a month.
“I think I’ll be heading to the east coast after my trip up north,” I say quietly. A bird in the hand and all that. “So you can have the apartment for sure.”
“Aw, Bri.” I fall into his chest again, and he rubs the back of my head. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
Tears pop up behind my eyelids and I blink them away. He means the job, and he’s right. I had a lot hitched on becoming a park ranger. It had been everything I’d goaled toward—and I hated it. I hate the politics and the rules.
Maybe I set myself up to fail, I think, but I don’t say that out loud.
We go out for dinner, just the two of us, then head back to my place so I can pack. Like all nomadic students, I don’t have a lot of personal belongings, and Kaden will take the household stuff. I do a ruthless purge of extra cosmetics as he chats to me about who climbed what today, then I carefully seal up the essential oils and toiletries I want to take with me.
“So what do know about this photographer?” he asks as he watches me brush my teeth.
“Nothing. She’s Marcus’s cousin, that’s it. Worst case scenario, I’m an awkward house guest for a week or two and I fly to New York early. But if I can fill the gap until I start working, that’ll be ideal.”
“And this is really this big a deal, what you were doing on Twitter?”