Rogue Hearts (The Rogue Series Book 4)

by Tamsen Parker

  Out with Elaine. Be back by dinner.

  She ripped it from the door and held it up to Ian. “Are you responsible for this?”

  “No.”

  She let out a sigh. “I guess we have some privacy then.”

  He didn’t say anything, only followed her into the house. She put the bag from the pharmacy on her mom’s bed and went back to the living room. Ian had sat down on the couch. Instead of giving into temptation to sit next to him, she chose Mom’s recliner.

  “What did you want to say?”

  “I’m really sorry, Rosa. I have no excuse for saying what I did. It was mean.”

  “It was.”

  He nodded. “Mom stopped at my office today and said you took a job in Philadelphia.”

  “Word gets around quick.”

  “You know Denning.”

  She let out a short laugh. “Yeah. I do. Why do you care?”

  “We have something, Rosa. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

  “You did, Ian. No one talks to me like that. I respect myself too much to put up with assholes.”

  He closed his eyes but nodded again. “I understand.” He stood up. “I told FSC to stuff it. I was more polite, but I’m not giving up my work.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “I also told Larry to go ahead and continue with the suit if he wants. I’m holding on to the company no matter what.”

  “Good for you.” Did he expect her to cheer for him?

  “This isn’t for you, Rosa. It’s for me. But, if you do decide to give me another chance, all you have to do is call. Even if you’re all the way in Philadelphia. I’ll find a way to come to you as fast as I can.”

  It was her turn to close her eyes. The devotion she heard in his tone and in his words ripped the last of her resistance to shreds. When she opened them again, he was at the door. “Ian. Wait.”

  He turned around and she went over to him. Hugged herself around her middle. “You hurt me.”

  “I know, Rosa.” He held up his arms and didn’t do anything but leave them open to her. Her decision.

  She took a step closer and leaned her body against his. When she’d first decided to have sex with him, she knew she’d regret not taking advantage of the opportunity to enjoy his body. Now? She’d regret giving up the opportunity to see what they could be together. The strength of his embrace as he rocked her smoothed the jagged edges of her emotions a little.

  “I am so, so sorry.” She felt his lips press against her hair.

  She let out a breath. “I start in two weeks.”

  “That’s fast.”

  “I have to find an apartment out there.”

  He kissed her temple again. “Want me to help look?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are we going to be okay?”

  “Maybe. We can give it a shot. I’m going to have to come back and check on Mom.”

  He let out a long sigh. “As much time as you need, Rosa.”

  She snuggled in closer, and felt his arms tighten around her. Denning had never truly felt like home to her in the past, but maybe it could in the future.

  Epilogue

  Nine months later

  Rosa followed traffic through Denning’s snow-covered square. The late winter storm had delayed her arrival, so she was meeting Ian at the office instead of at his house. She’d transferred to her company’s new Pittsburgh office a couple of months ago, so they’d been able to see each other more frequently.

  Her mom’s health had also taken a turn, and she needed more assistance. The home health care service was great, but there were times that Lottie wanted only Rosa nearby.

  Her phone rang.

  With the new salary and the need to come back to Denning on a regular basis, she’d splurged on a new car. She tapped the button that would feed the call through the car’s audio system. Caller ID showed it was Ian. “Hey, babe.”

  “Hey. Are you close yet, or should I just meet you at home?”

  Warmth settled in her stomach with his words. “No. I’m coming around the square right now. I should be at the plant in a few minutes.”

  “Good. Can’t wait to see you. It’s been too long.”

  “It’s only been two weeks.”

  “Two days is too long.”

  “Charmer.”

  He laughed. “Love you, too. See you in a bit.”

  As good as her word, she pulled into the plant’s parking lot ten minutes later and parked near the office entrance. The receptionist grinned at her. “He said to tell you to come straight back.”

  When she opened his office door, he was on the phone, but waved her in. She sat down in one of the visitor chairs while he wrapped things up.

  He hung up, and she would have sworn there were stars in his eyes.

  “What’s going on?”

  “That was the accountant with the final audit report for this last quarter. We’re only three percent behind sales from last year.”

  “So, is that good?”

  “Considering we lost the FSC contract, that’s great. They had accounted for a ten percent growth over the previous year. We expected to take a hit, but the fact that it’s not even half of the growth they had provided is huge. Even better, we can directly attribute at least three percent of those continued sales to interaction with the newsletters. And that number is growing.”

  She jumped up and ran around his desk to hug him. He pulled her down in his lap and kissed her. They were both soon out of breath.

  “What did I tell you after last time? No office sex. I do not want to get caught again.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We’ve got to celebrate.”

  She patted his chest and gave him another quick kiss on the lips. “Fancy dinner out?”

  “How about fancy dinner in?”

  “Who’s cooking? I burned it last time, and it’s a little too cold out to grill.”

  “It’s never too cold to grill, but you’ve got a point. How’s your mom feeling? Would she be up for going out?”

  “I’ll call her. I’m so proud of you, Ian.”

  He cupped her cheeks. “You make me better. Thank you, Rosa.”

  “You make me better, as well. Love you.”

  His eyes brightened at her declaration and he kissed her. Soon, he stopped to go lock the door. Despite the barrier, she did her best to hold in her cries. Especially when he whispered in her ear how much he loved her, too.

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  Author’s Note

  First, thank you very much to Bill Penzey of Penzeys Spices for the inspiration for Ian. I loved them for their spices for years and adored them when Bill took a stand. Sign up for their newsletter for the notes from Bill alone! Second, if you're at all interested in seeing more women in office, please consider helping out with efforts like http://www.GetHerElected.com. There are many different ways to contribute your time to causes you believe in.

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  The Sheriff & Mr. Devine

  Amy Jo Cousins

  About This Book

  There’s a new sheriff in Clear Lake and he has Eli Devine, the town librarian, on edge. Between arguing with the town council about inclusive library programming and keeping his three grandmas from getting into trouble, Eli has enough on his plate already. He doesn’t need the imposing Sheriff Baxter to be so very . . . distracting. Luckily for Eli, John Baxter is full of all kinds of good ideas, both for the town and for one stubborn librarian in particular.

  1

  The crunch of gravel under car tires ran up Eli Devine’s spine like the slow click of a roller coaster creeping up the last few inches of the initial hill before the terrifying downrush.

  Eli peered from his perch on the high wooden ladder over the top of the wisteria bush that was exploding in a riot of unrestricted vines all over the front yard. It wouldn’t be long before they were curtained off behind a wild hedge tall enough to keep out Sleeping Beauty’s suitors. Not that anyone in their house was plagued with a surfeit of admirers. Being gay in a small town in the middle of nowhere was a crimp on the social life all by itself, and that was before he factored in living with his grandmas, the three of whom had been out “running errands” for hours now.

  Please, let it not be—

  The boxy red and blue lights on the car’s rooftop were all he needed to see. No question who had been the ringleader, either.

  “Oh, sugar honey iced tea, Gramma Gee. What now?”

  He wanted to bang his forehead against the wood siding in front of him, but he’d just finished scraping this section and the last thing he needed was a face full of paint chips and wood splinters when he joined Deputy McGraff on their porch with Georgette in tow. He pulled air in through his nose and let it whoosh out his mouth like the park district yoga teacher taught them to do on Tuesday nights.

  Nothing.

  Yoga was bullshit. That crap didn’t work at all.

  He brought the scraper down with him, because if things were really bad, he’d have to soothe Tom with some lemonade and enough of Nana Bee’s cookies to let him skimp on his wife’s never-ending stream of casseroles. No sense leaving the tools out when the forecast was for heavy rain that night. Last thing he needed was to have to replace a perfectly good tool, even a three-dollar scraper.

  Being the town librarian, while the best job in the world as far as Eli was concerned, didn’t exact sit him at the top of the money tree.

  The thunk of car doors closing hustled his footsteps faster toward the gravel drive that curved in front of the broad front porch. Theirs was the kind of house that really deserved a porch swing and bright white paint on the posts and newels of the railing. As he ducked behind the wisteria and hoisted himself up onto the porch with both hands and a hop through a broken gap, Eli grimaced and gave a mental shrug.

  Obsessive home repair was how he handled stress—thank God, because he had plenty of it lately, and a list of repairs to match—but he could barely keep up. Replacing rotting boards fast enough to save them all from breaking their ankles as they tried to enter and exit the 130-year-old farmhouse was a full-time job all on its own, and the library already kept Eli busy six days a week. Fancy touches like porch swings and paint would have to wait until . . . well, until something else happened to rescue them from this beautiful heap that was falling down around them faster than he could fix things.

  Voices murmured low as he tossed the scraper on the large wooden spool that served as a porch table and hustled down the steps, skipping the wobbly one at the bottom.

  “Hey, Tom,” he called out, registering even as the words left his mouth that the police officer with his back to Eli couldn’t possibly be Tom McGraff. Tom’s comfortably sloping belly would never fit in the slim waist of the dark green pants riding low on those narrow hips.

  And, not to put too fine a point on it, Tom’s ass never filled out a pair of pants like the one facing Eli as he landed awkwardly on a rock and stumbled, cursing loud enough to turn heads.

  “Ow! Fuck.”

  “Elijah!” His Gramma Gee poked a head around the broad shoulders of the man blocking her view, her hot pink canvas sunhat crammed down on a cap of white curls. Aunt Millie and Nana Bee—technically his great-aunts, although he never called them that—crowded behind her. “Are you hurt, boy?”

  “No, ma’am.” Ma’am? He never called his grandmas ma’am. Shit. Being around a cop, especially one escorting his troublemaking Gramma Gee and her more timid sisters back home in an official police cruiser brought out the formality in him apparently. “Everything okay with you?”

  Because of course he knew who it had to be, standing there, showing off as fine a backside as had arrived in Clear Lake since he’d gotten old enough to appreciate the view. The whole town, all thirteen thousand of them as far as he could tell, had been talking about the new Sheriff from The City ever since he’d arrived last month. Their old sheriff, Buddy Baxter, was enjoying a sudde
n retirement after his second heart attack, appointing this outsider to take over the county jurisdiction on an interim basis until the next election, just as summer kicked into gear and the cicadas started humming in the trees.

  Sheriff Joe Baxter.

  Sheriff Sweet Ass was more like it.

  When the man spun slowly around and nailed him with a sharp look, Eli hiccupped a giggle and smacked a hand over his mouth to hide his grin. No way could the sheriff know what he was thinking.

  Please God let him not know what I’m thinking.

  The new sheriff in town was a stone fox.

  This was a man who looked like he spent a lot of hours in the weight room each week, the fabric of his short-sleeved button-down shirt straining around his wide biceps and over his shoulders. Eli hoped the deep grooves bracketing the Joe Baxter’s mouth came from smiling a lot, although the man sure didn’t have a smile on right now.

  The lines cutting across his forehead and between dark brows were out in full force though.

  Eli swiped his sweaty palms on the paint-spattered thighs of his khaki shorts, suddenly aware that not only was he in his oldest, dingiest, monster house-repair clothes, but he was going commando. His ancient shorts were frayed and shredded in a dozen places, with a major rip gaping way too close to his junk for comfort.