Stranger Ranger: An Opposites Attract Romance (Park Ranger Book 2)

by Smartypants Romance

  “Fine, if you’re going to be ungrateful.” I pop the crumbs into my mouth.

  “Hey,” he complains. “I’m the one who bought that muffin with my own money.”

  “What’s the saying? Beggars can’t be choosers?” I smile, smug.

  Before I can anticipate his actions, he’s lifted my arm toward his face and stolen a giant bite.

  As he chews and then swallows, I gawk at him in shock.

  “You’re right—delicious. I like the heat along with the sugar. Gives it a nice edge.” He eyes the small remaining portion in my hand.

  “Don’t even think about it.” I cup my hand over the rest. “You owe me half a muffin.”

  “Okay.” He shrugs. “I’ll buy you a dozen muffins to make up for it.”

  “That’s excessive. I don’t need twelve muffins. I could never eat that many in one sitting.”

  “If you say so. I’ll buy them for myself and give you half of one.”

  Too late, I realize I’ve bargained myself into a corner. I should’ve accepted his offer and frozen them for later. How can I retract my statement?

  “By the way, that’s a horrible expression.” He licks sugar from his fingers.

  “Which one?” I ask, hopeful he means the part about denying my ability to inhale small cakes disguised as breakfast foods.

  “The part about beggars not deserving a choice.” His brows pull together. “If they’re poor and asking for help, it means they should take whatever is offered to them without question? Say thank you and shut up?”

  He makes a good point. “I never thought about it that way. On one hand, shouldn’t we always be grateful for kindness and generosity?”

  “Have you ever been on the other end of charity?” His voice has lost the teasing tone from when we were talking about muffins. Softer around the edges, it hints at a vulnerability I haven’t seen in him before.

  Hesitating about how much I want to share, I pause before answering him.

  “That’s what I thought. Easy to be magnanimous if you’re the one doing acts of goodwill, patting yourself on the back for being so generous.”

  “I know what it’s like to have nothing.”

  He grimaces. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Being on your own at eighteen had to have been difficult. I bounced around from grunt job to grunt job until I got my shit together and earned a decent paycheck.”

  “Park rangers don’t make a lot of money, especially seasonal employees who might work six months at a time with long periods of downtime. Pile on student loan debt and car payments, and there isn’t much left over at the end of every month.”

  “No, I imagine there isn’t.”

  “Farming can’t pay as much as a chef.”

  “Barely covers my expenses.” He nods. “What’s that Bible saying about something’s price being above rubies?”

  I suck in a breath and hold it. Why is he asking me about this verse?

  “Do you know it?”

  Closing my eyes, I recite from memory. “‘Who can find a virtuous woman? Her price is far above rubies.’ From Proverbs.”

  He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe I’m thinking of something else.”

  “There’s another version, also in Proverbs, which I’ve always preferred. ‘For wisdom is better than rubies; and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared to it.’”

  “Yes!” His hand slaps the center of the wheel. “Wisdom. I think one of my grannies told me that one. The other quote sounds like some predator selling virgins.”

  I choke out a guffaw. “I don’t think that’s exactly how the writers intended their words to be interpreted.”

  “How do you know the Bible so well?”

  “Oh, you know.” I keep my tone as casual as I can. “Sunday school.”

  He gives me side-eye. “I saw your bookshelves while you were napping.”

  “Oh, those. Some are from a world religions class in college. Others are more recent.”

  “You’ve moved them around the country?”

  “I have. I find myself reading them over and over again. They all fit in one box. Wisdom over things.”

  He presses his lips together as he bobs his head. “Why not download the ebook version?”

  “I like to write notes in the margins, and seeing the collection all together brings me comfort. I can remember where I was when I bought each one.”

  “Kind of like my postcards. I kept a journal of sorts by writing them to myself.”

  “I love that idea.” I wonder what past Odin wrote to himself while he traveled. “I’ve never kept a diary or journaled.”

  “Rereading them can be cringe-inducing, but they’re a good reminder of who I was then compared to now.”

  Introspective Odin wasn’t on my bingo card.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Odin

  I’ve said more to Daphne about myself than I have to anyone else. Ever.

  There’s something about her that allows me to open up, though not because she’s an open book herself. On the drive home last night, I realized we spent most of the evening talking about me and she shared very little about her own history. I suspect she has more secrets than I do. Like seeks like. If only I could get her to trust me enough to be real. I’m hoping showing her the orchard today will be a good first step.

  I want to know her, the real Daphne, and I want to be known by her.

  We pass through the entrance to Cades Cove and I turn left onto the main road.

  “Remind me where we’re going? Cooper Road is back thataway.”

  “We’re sneaking in through the back door.”

  With narrowed eyes, she worries her bottom lip with her teeth before pulling out her phone and opening an app. She hold it up, so I can see the screen and swirls her finger in the general area of the trail. “According to this map, there is no other entrance by car. No roads.”

  “No paved roads,” I correct her.

  Glancing in my rear-view window for the twentieth time to make sure we aren’t be followed, I slow at the familiar curve. Up ahead, I spot the pale-green, plastic tie I left around a poplar tree to mark the road. I’ve thought about putting up No Trespassing signs but changed my mind when I realized they’d only draw attention.

  I haven’t driven on the logging path in a long time. It occurs to me that with all the rain we’ve been having, we might have an issue with mud, but the truck should do okay even if there’s standing water. I hope.

  Daphne lifts my favorite knife from the tray on the console. “What’s this for?”

  “Mostly mushroom foraging, but a good blade can serve many purposes. With a knife, string, and duct tape, you can get yourself out of a lot of binds.”

  “Or kidnap and murder someone.” She leans forward so she can see my eyes.

  I can’t really take them off the road as I navigate the ruts and dips of the old path, avoiding thicker tree branches and underbrush, but I cast a quick glance at her. “You’re kind of fixated on the kidnapping.”

  “Am I? That sounds like a weird thing to say to someone.” Her brows pull together.

  “You mentioned it after I found you in the woods, advised me to use candy or ice cream to lure you inside.”

  “Is that why you brought me a muffin?” She cringes.

  “Could be.” I find myself smiling at the memory of that afternoon.

  Her voice softens. “Ahh. The things you remember and I don’t. A part of me wishes there was a video I could watch to help me recall all the details … a very, small, tiny part that’s immune to embarrassment.”

  “No reason to be ashamed. For the most part you were funny and charming.”

  “It’s the hedging in your statement that worries me.”

  “You were fine.”

  We successfully arrive at the edge of the glen without getting stuck in the muck. I feel like we survived the Oregon Trail game.

  Daphne taps her phone’s screen and waits for the map to update.
When it doesn’t, she sighs in disappointment. “No service.”

  “I know where we’re at. Come on.” I step out of the cab before she’s unbuckled her seatbelt.

  Taller grass indicates the end of the road where a chain or barricade would normally be. There aren’t any other obvious tire tracks in either direction, so I’m fairly certain no one else has been here since my last visit.

  “Where’s the trail?” She hesitates near the hood.

  “We have to forge our own for a few yards.” I take the lead and she follows.

  Single file, we march through grass and underbrush until we head down a slope and into the orchard.

  Small red and green swirled apples decorate the sinewy trees, their branches covered in lichen and tangled together from neglect.

  “It’s a real orchard.” Daphne steps around me and heads down one of the rows, touching leaves and fruit as she passes by each tree. “I feel like I’ve stepped into a fairy tale. This place is definitely haunted by a headless horseman or the ghost of a little girl who drowned in a well.”

  I follow behind her, because what else am I going to do? “I can’t verify either of those things.”

  “How come I didn’t know about this place? I’ve studied everything about the GSM to be qualified to teach classes about it to visitors. There was a test. I only missed two questions. No one told me about secret orchards.” She sounds insulted.

  “This land belongs to my family, not the federal government. A long time ago, long before the concept of the national parks, Hills settled here. They built cabins and planted crops. One of them created this orchard.” I snap an apple off its branch, polish it on my shirt and then take a bite.

  Listening intently, she nods along with my story. “You said belongs, present tense. According to the maps, all of this is under the protection of the Department of the Interior.”

  “Not all of it. This valley, extending northeast from the pavement toward the Cooper trail, is private property.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Thought that might be the case.” I reach into my pocket and extract the map I printed at home this morning. “Here.”

  She accepts it from me and studies it, occasionally glancing up and around the orchard to get her bearings. “You’re right.”

  “I know.”

  “Your apples … ”

  “Technically, they’re wild, but the land is mine. Or more accurately, it belongs to my great-grandmother.”

  “Nannie Ida?”

  “The one and only.”

  “And she knows about the orchard?”

  “She’s the one who pointed me to this area, said I might find it of interest. Also made me promise to keep quiet about whatever I found.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Why do I have the feeling you’ve switched over to official business, Ranger Baum?”

  “Sorry. Too many questions?” She flashes an apologetic smile. “My curiosity gets the better of me sometimes.”

  “If I had to guess, she has memories of this place when the trees were young. Over her lifetime, she’s witnessed her family’s history get erased and rewritten to fit the tidy narrative you share on your tours.” My tone is harsh, unflinching.

  Her fingers flutter over the ends of her hair. “I didn’t know.”

  Rolling my shoulders back, I ease some of the gathered tension from my body. “Might be good to spend more time with the locals and learn more than the official history.”

  “You’re right. I’ve been here less than half a year. A problem with moving around every six months or so is I don’t have time to do much research. If I have questions, I tend to ask the other rangers with more seniority or the volunteers. Maybe you can introduce me to a few more of the old-timers?”

  Her lack of deflection tames my frustration. She could’ve denied or defended her actions. I respect someone who can own knowing what they don’t know. “I can help. Have you met Lena Walker at the farm museum?”

  “I don’t think so. I haven’t had much time off to explore other areas of the park. Typically, I work my ass off for six months and then travel in between gigs.”

  I didn’t realize she’d leaving after the fall season. Griffin, Gaia and Jay have been here for years. I assumed she’d be the same. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have wasted weeks being a grumpy codger instead of asking her out. We’ve barely gotten to know each other.

  A month won’t be enough time with her.

  “Where are you going next?” I manage to ask without sounding petulant.

  Blinking, she tilts her head. “Today?”

  “I meant after your contract here is over.”

  “Too soon to know.”

  “You don’t line up the next job before the current one ends?”

  “In the past, yes, but I don’t have any plans for after here.”

  Maybe I can convince her to stay. We could spend the winter together holed up in my cabin. A whole fantasy unfolds of her wearing nothing but one of my shirts, curled up in my bed next to me while snow falls outside, closing us off from the rest of the world.

  “Feels weird to be planning my next move when I’ve only had a permanent position for a month or so.” Her eyes meet mine, confusion in them. She probably sees the same in mine.

  “Like Ranger Lee?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” I hug her and then kiss her luscious mouth, relieved to know she’ll be around for a while.

  She takes a beat before she responds. Once she does, a switch flips and we’re all hands touching, grabbing, seeking skin while we explore each other with our lips and tongues. Stumbling across the uneven ground, I finally press her against the trunk of an apple tree. The added support allows me to lean into her, feeling her soft curves pressing against my body. I ache to strip her naked, taste her, and be inside her. I curse our current location and my lack of foresight. I don’t have a condom. I doubt Daphne has one in her pocket.

  We come up for air a few minutes later.

  Pressing my forehead against hers, I attempt to calm my frantic pulse.

  “This might be my favorite Monday ever.” She giggles.

  “Call in sick,” I whisper against the tender spot behind her ear. She shivers in response and the sense of power to create a reaction in her body with only my breath goes straight to my head. “Spend the day with me.”

  “I can’t.” She shakes her head.

  “Sure you can.” I’m not above begging.

  “No, I can’t call in because I have the day off.” She gives me a little shove in the middle of my chest. “Look, I’m not wearing my uniform.”

  While her jacket is typical NPS standard issue, she’s wearing black jeans and a T-shirt underneath.

  “My powers of observation suck.” I dip my head for another kiss. “Good thing I have other skills.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Daphne

  When Odin pinned me against the tree and kissed me until we were both breathless, I thought I might implode. If I’d known up-against-an-apple-tree sex was a potential option, I would’ve been better prepared. Frickin’ hindsight with its perfect vision.

  Why did we have to be in the middle of actual nowhere when he mentioned his skills?

  Why didn’t I bring a condom? I have a supply in my bathroom. Not much use when they’re miles away from the location of the action.

  Why must I hate skirts and dresses? The ones with pockets are perfect—for carrying the aforementioned condom—and, they’re more convenient than pants for spontaneous outdoor romps, which is ironic given their reputation for being more prim and proper.

  If this man doesn’t take me directly home and do wicked things to me while I do the same to him, I’m can’t be held responsible for my actions.

  Inhaling for three, exhaling for five, I resort to yoga breath to contain the raging lust that’s about to overwhelm me.

  Freaking demigod, lord of the vegetables.

  Is this how Zeus cou
ld disguise himself as all those weird things and still seduce mortal women? Swan? Ant? Golden shower? Come on, Danae. Seriously? How? Stop. No woman in her right mind is going to look at a swan and think, I must have you now. Get in my pants.

  Only she was probably wearing a dress. Or a toga. Argh!

  My namesake turned herself into a tree to avoid Apollo’s unwanted advances. Girlfriend wasn’t playing when he refused to accept she wasn’t interested.

  Reaching across the truck’s console, Odin squeezes my thigh. “Are you okay?”

  “All good. Why?” Realizing I’m clenching my jaw, I smooth my face into a pleasant expression.

  “You were breathing kind of strange.”

  “Hmm. Was I?” I cock my head.

  “What should we do with our wide-open day?” He stops at the end of the overgrown logging road and gives me his full attention. “Breakfast at Daisy’s?”

  Silently, we stare at each other for a few seconds. The air crackles with sexual tension.

  “How long does it take to get to the farm?” I lean over and kiss him.

  I think my cabin is closer but it’s also closer to neighbors, who happen to all be my coworkers. I am not okay with anyone interrupting us by knocking on my door.

  He smiles against my lips. “Daphne?”

  “Mmm,” I hum.

  “Might be easier to drive if we’re not making out.” He chuckles.

  “Right.” I continue what I was doing.

  He indulges me, sweeping his tongue against mine as his hand comes up to kiss my face.

  The kissing doesn’t help relieve the ache, merely fanning the flames. With an exasperated sigh, I pull myself away from him.

  With a quick bob of his head, he says, “Right. Let’s go back to my place.”

  Patsy’s in her pen and Roman stands on the porch when we arrive at the farm.

  “Don’t you have work to do?” I ask Odin as we exit the truck.

  “Already finished up most of today’s projects.” He slips his arm around my shoulder.

  “You were at my place by 7:30.” I gape at him. “What time do you get up?”