His workout clothes on the other hand…he’d been down to the Fiscally Conservative, Socially Inept shirt his brother Jamie had gotten him for his birthday a few years ago. It was accurate, maybe, but did he have to advertise it? No. Although as Jamie had pointed out when he gave it to him, it might get him more dates instead of his usual MO, which was just being clueless.
Actually, maybe wearing the gag gift shirt wasn’t such a bad idea. It would maybe give some woman who might possibly be interested in him (that was a possibility, right?) a hint that she would have to be very straightforward. Like his name in lights or neon-sign-love-note obvious, because otherwise he’d assume she was just being polite.
It had been a while since he’d had a girlfriend, and he’d like to have one again. He liked women, he liked sex, and he liked having someone to come home to. Made it more likely that he would eat real food instead of a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats before collapsing into bed. Plus the whole warmth of having a person you liked in the same space with you thing. That was nice. Jamie and his girlfriend Anna did their best to keep him from sinking into workaholic bachelorhood, but he knew he didn’t make it easy on them.
It was just easier to keep doing what he was doing instead of going out of his way to try to ask a woman out—how did one even do such a thing?—and then having the awkwardness and stomach-curdling shame of being—politely—rejected.
No, thanks. He’d save the barely-being-able-to-breathe and the heart-pounding and the sweating-through-his-clothes for spin class, not for trying to get a date. Even if he was crushing on that woman who sat behind him in class. Partly because she was always there earlier than he was, pedaling away and reading on her kindle. Didn’t really matter to him what she was reading, but he liked that she did. So much that he’d considered moving because he didn’t want her to see his thinning hair and exactly how drenched with perspiration he got during the hour of crazed pedaling, but then he’d forget and it was easier to just take the same seat over, and over, and over again.
Also, she was pretty with her black hair in a high ponytail and her form-fitting workout gear hugging her body just right, but she kind of looked like she wanted to murder him a lot of the time. It was hard enough to talk to women he thought, maybe, just might like him at least a little bit. Jamie of course would say they were practically throwing themselves at him, but Carter couldn’t see that. He could see, though, the look of hostility on spin woman’s face, her narrowed eyes and the tightening of her red mouth like she wanted to scold him, but had decided he wasn’t worth her time.
When he pictured having conversations with her—and he had, a lot over the past two months—she was smart and fierce, but also kind. And maybe most importantly, didn’t mind his awkwardness. Perhaps had a soft spot for his maladroitness and wouldn’t mind that he was happy to do as she liked as long as he had a bunch of time to himself to recharge. He thought perhaps that woman was strong and independent and confident enough that she wouldn’t mind some of the things that had eventually tired the women he’d been in relationships with.
In the locker room, Carter stripped off his clothes, wrapped a towel around his waist, and tried to get a handle on his thoughts. He was in for another long day at work, and it wouldn’t do to be thinking about a woman, any woman. What he needed to do was focus on getting through another day at the job he mostly loved but had come to feel like a minefield in the past few months.
Work had always been a respite—a place where he actually knew what he was doing—but now he was wary of a lot of the people he worked with. God knew Carter wasn’t good at lying, or dissembling, or any of the other ways people greased social interactions with other humans they disagreed with, so mostly he’d kept his head down, like an ostrich with its head in the sand.
Before he had to deal with that, though, he should at least make himself physically presentable. That was a social more he could grasp and get behind. Which is why he slung his towel over the curtain rod and turned the water to nearly scalding to wash away the evidence of his workout.
CHAPTER 2
A s usual, Paige’s desk in the office she shared with three other staffers was stacked with file folders, loose papers, and colorful sticky notes by the time she got in. Which was kind of crazy given that she was usually in by seven-thirty. Cooper was just that fraction of an inch crazier than she was.
After setting down her satchel by her desk and tossing her rank gym bag in the far corner of her quarter of the small room, Paige took a healthy swig of her caramel latte—her treat for making it through another brutal spin class—and plopped down at her desk chair.
Right on top was the latest legislative bulletin from the Republican Study Committee. Shit. She should’ve gone for the large latte. Too late now.
Paige slid her shoes off, kicked her feet onto her desk, and took up the paper. Sometimes the RSC put out ridiculous crap that it was easy to send through her shredder without a second thought, but sometimes their positions could be sort of…reasonable. Which killed her. At least it gave her something to work against. Or around. Or say, “You know what? You actually have a good point. Let’s try to come up with a solution that works for us both.”
She never did, though. It’s not like she’d actually get an inch from those people, so fuck that.
This particular bulletin was about the failures of the Housing Choice Vouchers, known by most people as its old school name, Section 8.
As Paige read, she became increasingly piqued and also a little bit…turned on. The author’s arguments were sophisticated, and while she didn’t agree with all of them, there were some good points. The career staffers in the Department had already been working on ways to mitigate some of the failures mentioned in the paper, although not in the ways the irritatingly smart author would’ve liked. The answer, as much as the current administration wished it would be, was not for the federal government to get out of the housing game altogether. Which was a big old pile of bullshit anyhow, since the feds spent far more on the mortgage tax deduction than they did on public housing. Anyone who said otherwise was just asking for a fight; one she’d gladly give them. Maybe she should be taking kick-boxing instead of spin…
By the time she’d turned the last stapled page, she was both irritated and shifting in her seat. It was the same way Dick made her feel while she was climbing those fake hills on her stationary bike—a parallel she shoved out of her mind. At least she was starting to formulate some counterpoints she could send to her boss by the end of the day, and come up with an in-depth—with actual numbers, dammit—plan to address some of the concerns instead of scrapping the whole program. Frigging ridiculous.
But she couldn’t escape the grudging admiration for the author—authors?—of the bulletin. They were annoying, but particularly so because they were clearly intelligent and not a complete dingbat like some on the right. And for Paige, well, competence porn was definitely a thing.
Could she appreciate aesthetically that someone was attractive? Sure. But the only people she really wanted to bang were the ones who were smart too. Give her a reasonably attractive wonk over a muscled up hunk who wasn’t very bright any day of the week.
Her curiosity led her to a place she didn’t usually let herself follow because she had too much to do. But, vexed, she knew she’d think about it all day, or she could just get it over with. Over with was better, more efficient. At least that’s what she told herself as she flipped back to the front and looked at the byline.
Just the one author, so this would take even less time than she’d thought. And with a name like Carter Joshua Cox, she wouldn’t be digging through a hundred thousand search results to find the person she was looking for.
According to his official bio, Carter Joshua Cox worked for the Republican Study Committee, had gone to Hillsdale for his undergraduate work and Princeton for his master’s. She found a whole heap of other papers he’d written, and just as she was about to click out of the browser and get down to business, somethin
g compelled her to click over to the images results.
Which is when she yanked her feet off the desk, and in the process knocked over what was left of her latte. “No fucking way.”
But there was a fucking way. Wearing a button-down shirt, tie, and blazer instead of sweat-dampened cycling clothes, the man in most of the photos was none other than her Dick. Son of a holy godforsaken bitch.
CARTER STRAIGHTENED his tie and took a deep breath before he walked through the doors of Longworth. Another day doing a job he loved more than he’d ever thought it was possible to love one’s job. Another day of feeling like he was going to be caught out and tossed out on his ass as a fraud.
He greeted the men in his office with their government uniforms of suits and ties, and the “casual” ones in khakis, shirts and ties and blazers. As the day progressed, some of their outfits would deteriorate into rumpled and rolled sleeves; crooked, loosened or altogether discarded ties; and the inevitable stains of hastily consumed takeout on their shirts. He was no exception, but still he liked to start the day looking presentable.
Once in his cube, he felt like he could breathe again. It was strange, having fought for something so hard and then feeling sick once you’d got it. Not that he’d been such a big fan of the Republican candidate, but some of the policies he could get behind and he’d figured the rest of the government would do its fucking job. That was apparently too much to ask, and now an administration he thought would be able to move the policy needle a bit in his preferred direction was shoving it, and not in a way he particularly wanted it to go.
He was used to being somewhat at odds with some of his colleagues on certain issues. Religion? Everyone should do what they want. Who you have sex with? Don’t care. Abortion? So not his decision to make. Border control? As long as you stay out of trouble, come on in.
Not everyone here felt that way—not even most people—and were becoming more vocal about it to the point that Carter had become almost silent in meetings he used to be kind of a loudmouth in.
The queasy feeling started again, and Carter had to loosen his tie. Take a few deep breaths. It would be okay. Right? How much damage could one person possibly do? Although it was becoming more and more apparent that it wasn’t just one person. It was a lot of them, and it was getting uglier all the time.
The worst part was that you never knew who harbored these awful thoughts. Could be anyone. Well, it always could’ve been. But people were becoming less and less shy about their racism and homophobia and antisemitism, and, and, and—
Could the dark-haired woman who sat behind him in spin be one of them? He hoped not. Yeah, she didn’t seem to like him very much, but maybe that was just her face? She wasn’t obligated to smile. Maybe if he could do more than make a miniscule greeting nod in her direction he wasn’t sure she ever noticed, he’d be able to tell better. Because she seemed like someone who, maybe if he asked women out, might be someone he’d consider…asking. It’s not like he was great with people—which was probably why Jamie was still his best friend—but he’d like to think he’d gleaned some of what made her special from the months they’d been spending three hours a week together. She seemed smart, and fierce, and yes, he found her bountiful curves and her face that got exertion-flushed and sweat-slicked by the end of class attractive.
But for now, he’d keep his head down, do his job. Write his papers on smaller government, on curbing inefficient spending, cutting pork barrel spending, and streamlining existing programs that it would never fly to get rid of. He’d work for what he thought was right, hope to get some of it out of this administration before it was over, and maybe see if he could make spin class the other four days of the week. Or take up meditation. Or yoga.
For now, he’d straighten his tie and get to work.
CHAPTER 3
P aige had stayed up far too late last night. Partly because she’d been busting her ass to come up with proposals for reforming the Housing Choice Voucher program, some of which were already in place in a few housing authorities as part of a demonstration program. Why they hadn’t implemented more of the efficiencies and restructurings that the MTW agencies had demonstrated were effective, she didn’t know. No, wait, she did—it was because they weren’t punitive to the people they were allegedly serving.
Fucking hell did she hate being a public servant sometimes.
The other reason she’d been staying up late was far less…altruistic. Well, in some ways it was for the good of people around her. Orgasms were good stress relief, and since the new administration had taken over, her baseline anxiety level had spiked. She had a tendency to be snippy when she was under strain, and the minutes of relief rubbing one out provided helped keep her sane and maintain a basic level of civility.
She hadn’t had spin class this morning, which had perversely left her both feeling tired but also buzzing with pent up frustration. Also having unfortunate thoughts about a certain conservative cyclist. Smarty-pants bastard.
Having reached a part of her report for Cooper that was particularly stressing her policy chops, she pushed her keyboard forward, and thunked her head onto the space on the desk it had vacated. Just in time to hear a knock at the door.
When Paige looked up, it was to her boss, Cooper, with a corner of her mouth curling up. “You still fuming about the RSC memo?”
“Yes.”
Cooper smirked at Paige’s disgruntled tone and wrinkled nose, and crossed her arms over her chest.
“What’s got you so worked up about this one? You take on that shit all the time, and you blow them to smithereens. Is something different?”
Paige debated whether or not to say anything. After all, she and Cooper were colleagues, and she still hadn’t entirely gotten over that whole being-scared-to-death-of-her thing she had been assured was completely normal on her first day at HUD. She’d been warned about Cooper and the then-Secretary, Slade Lewis, because they both had reputations of having razor-sharp minds and tongues that were just as well-honed.
But in the years she’d been at HUD, Secretary Lewis had mellowed considerably before being ousted by the new administration, and while Cooper was still demanding and intimidating as hell, Paige had come to realize it was only because the woman cared so fucking much and she couldn’t stand the idea of anything going wrong through carelessness or sloth. Now she found Cooper far more approachable, and they’d become friendly, if not friends. Paige kind of wanted to be like Cooper when she grew up, and that included the ridiculously adorable marriage Cooper seemed to have with her wife. She’d seen the two women at a few receptions, and they had some serious heart-eyes for each other. Which was how Cooper had become not only her professional idol, but her relationship idol as well. So, here went nothing.
“Did you ever find someone completely infuriating but also really attractive at the same time?”
The tall, always dignified black woman snorted in response and Paige had to pinch her lips shut to keep from laughing. Yeah, she definitely wanted to hear this.
“Yes.”
It might’ve been rude and bordering on unprofessional, but Paige knew the curiosity wouldn’t go away until she had the answer. Maybe it would help her figure out what to do about this Carter Joshua Cox issue. Her usual analytical tools were failing her, and failing her hard. “What did you do about them?”
Cooper got this goofy, love-struck look on her face and shook her head. “I married her.”
“Seriously? You and your wife always look so happy.”
“We are. But before we figured out how to make it work, we fought like cats. It was kinda hot at first but—” Cooper seemed to catch herself and broke off that sentence, though Paige was on the edge of her desk chair, wanting to hear about it. “Anyway, my Glory is a devout Catholic and works for Network Lobby for Social Justice. And while we agree on a lot of policy issues, it’s far from all of them. But she’s incredibly smart, she works really hard, she’s the cutest thing on two legs, and we fit together in some other
important ways. It’s not always easy, but at the end of the day, I wouldn’t trade that woman for anything.”
Wow. Paige could only hope that someday someone would talk about her like that. Although this thing she had for Carter Cox seemed less pure than the love Cooper and her wife had for each other, it sounded like Cooper and Glory hadn’t always been that way. That wasn’t really the point though.
Cooper was still leaning up against the doorframe, the sole of her shoe propped up against the jamb. “Anyone I know?”
Paige’s stomach leaped as the picture of Carter in his coat and tie popped into her mind.
“Probably not. He works at the RSC. Carter Cox?”
The smile that spread over Cooper’s mouth made her look far less scary, and more like someone’s big sister home from college giving advice at a high school sleepover. “I know Mr. Cox. He interviewed here. We offered him the position, actually, but he took the job at the RSC instead, which to be honest was probably a better fit. Really smart kid, even though I don’t see eye to eye with him on a lot of things. Always polite, though, but he can be a bit aloof. Maybe a little thick when it comes to interpersonal stuff? So if you’re interested, you might have to make it very clear. Just a tip.”
Interesting. Paige filed away Cooper’s intelligence about her hate crush, though when she’d use it, who knew. Probably never. Her current MO of alternately wanting to strangle and fuck him into next week and him being none the wiser was working out just fine. “Thanks for the counsel.”
“You’re welcome. Now let’s can the gossip and get back to work, because god knows these proposals aren’t going to write and pass themselves.”
Rogue Desire: A Romance Anthology (The Rogue Series) Page 36