Rogue Ever After (The Rogue Series Book 7) Read online

  Oh, and his touches. A hand on the arm, his fingers warm on my chin, brushing my hair back. Each time, I grew a little more addicted to his touch, yearning to lean into it, into him. When he looked into my eyes after our fall on the sidewalk, standing so close our chests almost touched, I could have sworn he was about to kiss me. I would have melted into a puddle, and the winter cold wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  Get a grip, Brandon. Jonny Lim wasn’t going to kiss you.

  “This is perfect!” Jonny had found an alcove with a few empty armchairs and collapsed into one. His phone was in his hands already, his head bent over the screen. “You’re okay with me posting that selfie of us, right?”

  “Uh, sure?”

  “Awesome. What’s your handle?”

  “Huh?” I was still standing next to the other empty seat.

  He looked up at me, grinning like he would at a puppy. “Your Instagram handle? I need to tag you. If that’s okay?”

  “Oh sure. It’s, uh . . .” Crap. He’d think I was a total dork. What did it matter—he already knew I was a total dork. “Solitary and poor 1651.”

  Jonny bent over again to type it into his phone then stopped. He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “Nasty, brutish, and short. Thomas Hobbes?”

  “That part of the quotation was taken.”

  Jonny chuckled, shaking his head with a resigned contentment that made me smile. “You are . . .” He sighed. “Marvelous.”

  I’d never been called that before. It was kind of a strange thing to be called, right? But it sounded like he meant it in a good way. “Thank you?”

  “Sit! We’re not going anywhere for a while. Need to satisfy my adoring fans.” He said it with exaggeration, but the truth was he did have a lot of fans.

  Which is why he’d never bother with you.

  I sat down opposite Jonny, watching his thumbs fly over his phone. His smile widened a few times and he even let out a small laugh under his breath. I couldn’t quite believe any of this was real. Twenty-four hours ago, Jonny was nothing more than a voice in my ear. And now, I’d seen him give a lecture in person, debated philosophy with him, felt the weight of his gaze on me, and warmed at his touch. I almost slapped myself in case I was dreaming.

  Don’t do that. He’ll think you’re nuts.

  “What was that?” Jonny looked up.

  Oh no, had I said that out loud? “Uh, nothing.” I ducked my head and tried to disappear.

  Jonny narrowed his eyes like he didn’t believe me, but then let it go. “They like the selfie,” he announced, a touch of triumph in his voice. “They want to know who the hottie is.”

  “Who?”

  “You, silly!” He held his phone out for me to see. Comments littered the screen, each one asking who Jonny was posing with. They were using words I’d never associated with myself—“hottie” was the tamest of the lot. My cheeks warmed to a dangerous temperature, and I shrank back into my seat.

  “Oh, my heart. You’re beyond adorable.” Jonny leaned over his phone again. “Don’t worry. I won’t dox you. You’ll be my special little secret.”

  “Hey Brandon.”

  I jumped out of my seat. The unexpected greeting shot my heart rate through the roof, and I turned only to find Yulia standing behind my chair.

  “Oh, hi Yulia.”

  “How’s it going?” she asked, as friendly and non-threatening as ever.

  My heart took a moment to return to normal. “Good. How are you?”

  “Great!” She peered past my shoulder. “Is that—?”

  “Hi!” Jonny stepped around me and offered Yulia his hand. “Jonny Lim.”

  “Hey, I thought that was you.” Yulia took his hand and a weird spike of something sour rushed through me.

  “You were at the talk last night, right? You asked a question.”

  Yulia tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t think you’d remember.”

  “I’ve got a good memory.” Jonny snuck a quick glance at me as if the comment had an alternate meaning, except I didn’t know what it was.

  “Sorry if this is way too forward, but a bunch of us from the polisci department are getting together for dinner and drinks tonight. We’re going to a cheap yakitori place nearby. You wouldn’t want to come, would you?” Yulia’s smile was hesitant, yet hopeful.

  Jonny turned to me, a question in his eyes. “Do we have any other plans?” As if making plans together was something we did regularly. As if we hadn’t only met an hour ago.

  “Uh, no, I mean, I don’t think so.”

  Jonny turned back to Yulia with a shrug. “I guess we’ll be there!”

  “Awesome!” If Yulia smiled any wider, she’d probably split her cheeks open. “I’ll text Brandon the details. See you there!”

  “See ya!” Jonny waved as she left. “You’re okay with that, right? We can back out if you’re not.” He looked a little sheepish.

  “Of course. Yeah, whatever you’d like.” I nodded enthusiastically. After all, I was only the tour guide and Jonny was the guest. Yet that unpleasant, sour feeling lingered, even as I forced a grin onto my face.

  * * *

  Dinner with Brandon’s friends was interesting, to say the least. His friends were great. It was Brandon who seemed to transform the second we stepped into the restaurant. All afternoon, he’d been adorably awkward and shy, spouting political theories and then looking embarrassed like he couldn’t stop them from spilling out of his mouth. But around his friends he’d somehow become both more reserved and more outgoing at the same time. Gone were the random tidbits of theory I loved so much, and in their place was laughter that rang a little too loud and agreeable comments that felt a little fabricated. It was like he’d put on a new persona.

  He’d also stifled two yawns in the past five minutes.

  I leaned over, pressing my shoulder against his to whisper in his ear. “Tired?”

  His breath hitched a fraction and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

  I could guess why—forcing yourself to be someone you weren’t was exhausting. “Do you want to go home? I can find my way back to my AirBnB.”

  A flash of hurt crossed his eyes, and he sat up a little taller. “No, I’m okay.”

  Oops. I hadn’t meant to brush him off. Plus, I didn’t really want him to leave. I’d had a great time with him that afternoon, hanging out at Robarts Library while he nerded out on research and I updated my social media. It was a jerk move to dismiss him like that. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—.”

  “No, I’m okay,” he repeated, eyes trained squarely on some spot on the table.

  I checked my watch. Ten-thirty wasn’t that late, but it wasn’t early either. My flight back home was early tomorrow morning. I tossed back the last of my beer and signaled to everyone.

  “Thanks for having me tonight, but I need to get back and finish packing.”

  A chorus of groans echoed around the table, and I said goodbye to each person before shrugging into my coat. Brandon was waiting for me a few steps away, and we wove our way through the restaurant toward the exit.

  A delicate snow was falling, dainty little flakes suspended in midair, not enough to leave any ground cover, but enough to glow in the light of the street lamps.

  “You didn’t have to do that.” Brandon walked with his head lowered.

  “What, leave?” I shrugged. “I do actually have to finish packing.”

  He lifted uncertain eyes to me, and I gave him a gentle shoulder bump.

  “Thanks for showing me around today. I had a fantastic time.” A tinge of sadness laced my words. I hadn’t expected to get so attached to Brandon over only half a day.

  That shy little smile, the way he blushed so hard it looked like he might have a stroke, his love for the obscurities of political theory. The likelihood of me accepting the research fellowship was slim, but the prospect of not seeing Brandon again left me with an uneasy feeling.

  “Hey, what’s your number?” I don’t know why I ask
ed for it, but a few selfies and an Instagram tag didn’t feel like enough mementoes to remember him by.

  He wore a slightly surprised expression, lips parted enough that I wanted to seal them up with my own.

  I cleared my throat. “You know, in case I find myself back here again and I need a friend.”

  “You probably have lots of friends.”

  “But none like you.” No one even close to him.

  He rattled off his number, and I saved it to my phone. Then I sent him a text so he’d have mine—a little heart, because why the hell not.

  As we turned the corner toward where I was staying, I spotted the cute little coffee shop across the street. “Oh wait, I want to check what time they open tomorrow morning. I’d like to get breakfast before my flight.”

  “Seven.”

  I stopped before hopping off the sidewalk and turned to him. “You go there often?”

  “I work there.”

  I stepped toward him, hope for I-didn’t-know-what flaring in me. “Are you working tomorrow morning?”

  He shook his head, the disappointment on his face mirroring what I felt inside. “I work in the afternoon tomorrow.”

  “That’s too bad.” And I meant it down to my very soul.

  We slowed as we approached my place, and I dug through my bag looking for the keys to stall the precious moments we had left.

  “Will you be accepting the fellowship with the department?” Brandon was looking off to the side like he couldn’t quite meet my eyes while asking the question.

  I closed my fingers around the keys, the metal digging into my palm. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve got another job offer back home. It’s with a think tank. They’re doing interesting work in political discourse, and it’s home, you know? My family is there. The weather is better.” All my good, practical reasons felt like flat excuses as they left my mouth.

  Brandon nodded like he’d been expecting that answer. He took a breath, shifted on his feet, and looked at me with his bottom lip between his teeth. It felt as if he was studying me, memorizing me so he could save the image for later. I studied him back. Such expressive brown eyes, soft black hair in need of a trim, a nose I wanted to rub mine against.

  I needed to go inside before I made a fool of myself.

  “Thanks again for today.”

  He nodded but didn’t leave.

  Oh, fuck it. I closed the distance between us and pulled him into a hug.

  He stiffened for a moment before melting into me, his arms winding their way around my waist, and he was hugging me back. This was no polite goodbye hug. This was a full body press. Me on my tiptoes and bending backwards to mold myself into him. Him ducking his head to rest his chin on my shoulder. God, even the half head height difference between us was perfect.

  He smelled exactly the way I imagined, like Zest body soap, fresh and clean. It made me want to jump in the shower with him. I might have let out an involuntary groan because Brandon sucked in a breath and shook in my arms.

  I forced myself to step back, my fingers not quite relinquishing their hold on him. Brandon’s eyes were half-lidded, irises and pupils blended into dark pools. I ran my fingers across his forehead, tangling a bit in his hair, then down his cheek as he turned into my palm, before dropping my hand away. What the hell was I supposed to say after a hug like that?

  Brandon swallowed visibly, his shoulders hunched up toward his ears as he stuffed his hands into his coat pocket. “Have a safe flight,” he said, eyes downcast. Then he turned and walked away.

  4

  He’d sent me a heart. What was that supposed to mean?

  It doesn’t mean anything, Brandon.

  Then why did he send it?

  What does it matter? He’s back in Vancouver by now, anyway.

  At least, I assumed he was. After the heart message, I’d turned my phone off because I didn’t trust myself not to do something stupid. Like send a heart back. Or lie in bed all morning refreshing his Instagram feed. I’d known him for all of half a day and he wasn’t coming back, so the sooner I got over this all-consuming crush the better.

  I wiped down the counter again for the third time in half an hour, mostly out of boredom since there were no customers in the coffee shop. Simone was sitting at the bar in front of the window looking suspiciously at the falling snow and giving me live updates on the weather forecast.

  “It’s coming down a lot harder than they said it would,” she said, scrolling through her phone. “Maybe we should close up early. I doubt anyone is coming in.”

  Right then, the door burst open with a blast of frigid air and a swirl of white. We both stared in shock at the snow-covered figure sputtering in the doorway. When the air finally settled around him, I gasped.

  Jonny looked like a drowned rat. His hair was soaked through and plastered to his head. His wool coat was wet too; as were his jeans all the way up to his knees. His lips were an alarming shade of blue.

  “It’s a fucking blizzard out there,” he announced.

  Simone burst out laughing and promptly clasped a hand over her mouth. I ran around the end of the counter.

  “Jonny, are you okay?”

  “Oh, you know, just spent all day at the airport as they delayed my flight and then delayed it again, before finally cancelling it. Stupid airline won’t even pay for a hotel room because ‘the weather is outside their control.’ And then it took forever to get a ride back into the city and the stupid driver refused to turn down this street because it isn’t plowed yet, so now I’m thoroughly wet.” He huffed as water dripped from the end of his nose.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Jonny sighed and wiped angrily at his face. “I don’t know. Maybe I can find a last minute AirBnB that won’t cost a fortune.”

  “What about the place you stayed at last night?”

  Jonny shook his head. “It’s not available. I already tried. People at the airport were saying that hotels were getting booked up too since everyone is stuck here.”

  “Forecast says it’ll snow well into the night,” Simone piped up. She’d gone into the back to grab a mop. Paper towels wouldn’t cut it against the puddle Jonny was making on the floor.

  “Great.” Miserable didn’t begin to describe him.

  An idea popped into my head—ludicrous and comical. He’d probably say no, which was the only reason I even considered it. “If you want, of course you don’t have to, but if you want, you could stay with me. On my couch. It’s a bachelor and in the basement. But I do have a couch. Or you can take the bed and I can take the couch. That's okay too. Whatever you want. Or don't want.”

  Simone had paused in her mopping and was giving me a “shut up now” look. I bit my lip to keep more words from spilling out.

  Jonny, though, looked like a little life had seeped back into his body. “Really? I'd love to. That's so sweet of you.”

  “No pressure. I understand if you don't want to. We only met yesterday, and you barely know me.”

  Simone rolled her eyes and went back to mopping.

  Jonny stopped me with a cold hand on mine. “I absolutely, one hundred percent, would love to stay with you.”

  I didn't actually think he'd take me up on the offer. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. “I haven't really tidied recently, so it's kind of messy. And I didn’t have time to get groceries, so the fridge is pretty empty. I have some frozen dumplings, though. We could eat those. They’re good, I promise.”

  Simone walked away with the mop, shaking her head.

  “Brandon, don’t worry so much. I love dumplings. I’ll eat anything. Okay?”

  I swallowed, trying to push down the ball of nerves in my throat. “Okay.” Jonny Lim was coming to my apartment. He was going to stay with me for the night. I was definitely not okay.

  “You guys should head out,” Simone called from the back. “It’ll only get worse out there after sunset. I'll close up here.”

  I left Jonny by the door and went back to find
Simone. “Are you sure? I can help close up.”

  “There isn't much left to do.” She looked pointedly over my shoulder. “Looks like you've got plenty to take care of, anyway.”

  * * *

  I’d thought I was cold and wet when I showed up at the coffee shop. After ten minutes trudging through the snow to the subway station, twenty minutes in an over-heated subway car, and another ten minutes through the snow to Brandon’s apartment, I now had a new standard for cold and wet. At least Brandon was a gentleman and had dragged my suitcase for me, since I was the idiot who didn't have gloves.

  We stomped down some stairs, and Brandon unlocked the door to a tiled landing area. I immediately proceeded to drip a giant puddle where I stood. Brandon took a glance at me and ordered a quick “don't move.”

  He stripped out of his waterproof gear and hung it up on the wall. Underneath he was as dry as prohibition, damn the man. He disappeared for a second and returned with a laundry basket. “You can put your wet stuff in here. I’ll throw it in the wash for you.”

  He put the basket on the floor and stepped back, waiting for me to strip. As miserable as I was, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. “Excuse me, are you going to stand there and watch me take off my clothes?” I cocked my hip and raised an eyebrow for good measure.

  His face immediately glowed a bright red, and he spun on his heel to give me his back. “Sorry. I'm so sorry.”

  Poor guy, I shouldn't have taken advantage. “I'm joking Brandon. I won’t take everything off. It's okay. You can look.”

  He shook his head and wrapped his arms across his chest. “No. I'm sorry.”

  I peeled out of my sopping wool coat, kicked off my ruined Blundstones, and one by one dropped my drenched clothes into the basket. Only when I was in my briefs did I realize my teeth were chattering. And all my other clothes were in a suitcase that was likely frozen shut.