Page 11 of Ranger's Secret

Maya told me about growing up with Jagger, how used she felt when girls would pretend to be her friend just to get close to her brother. It became a running joke at her high school—befriend Maya, hook up with Jagger. She was so scarred by it she made me promise, on our very first night as roommates, to never think of him that way.

So I listened. I kept it buried. A little crush that I fed in secret but never, ever acted on.

Until he kissed me.

And even then, it became my dark secret. The thing I replay when I'm alone and hating myself for wanting what I can't have.

Now it's here, in my face, impossible to ignore. And I just did something unspeakable. Something I caused by going to that lake alone, by stripping down, by giving him exactly what he wanted. I could have walked away from all of this. Could have kept my clothes on, stayed in my cabin, been the friend Maya deserves.

What kind of person am I?

Get it together, I tell myself. You have a friend you care about. You have a job to do. A client to impress. Brett's probably already back at his cabin writing notes about how to outshine you tomorrow.

The thought of smug, entitled Brett with his shitty smirk is exactly the cold shower I need. I square my shoulders and pick up my pace, determined to get back to my cabin and salvage what's left of my dignity.

That's when I round the corner and run straight into Brett.

"Whoa," he says, stepping back with that irritating grin, his flashlight flicking up to catch my face. The beam is too bright, making me squint and probably illuminating every tell-tale sign of what just happened. "You okay, Delaney?"

I force my expression into neutral territory. "Yeah. Fine. Just tired."

His gaze drops, taking in my appearance with obvious interest. I can practically see him cataloging details he can use against me later. "You look..." His eyes travel over my damp hair, my flushed skin. "Flustered."

I straighten my spine, channeling every ounce of ice queen energy I've cultivated in boardrooms full of men who think they can intimidate me. "I'm fine. Just got turned around on the way back from a hike."

"Right." His smirk deepens, and I want to wipe it off his face with my fist. "Your hair's wet."

He’s probably already planning how to spin this to Ms. Chen, how Morrison & Associates sent someone who can't even navigate a simple walk without getting into trouble.

"Went for a quick swim," I say. "Good for recovery after a long day."

"In the dark? Alone?" He takes a step closer, invading my personal space in a way that makes my skin crawl. "That's either really brave or really stupid."

The condescension in his tone sets my skin on edge. But I'll be damned if I let him see me sweat.

"I prefer to think of it as thorough preparation. Some of us take this experience seriously instead of treating it like a corporate retreat."

His face flushes, and I know I've hit a nerve. Good. He’s been coasting on his daddy’s connections his entire career.

"Careful, Holt," he says, his voice dropping to what he probably thinks is an intimidating whisper. "Wouldn't want Ms. Chen to think you're not team player material."

Before I can respond with something that will definitely get me in trouble, footsteps crunch on gravel behind me. I don't need to turn around to know who it is, like it's responding to some invisible signal only he can send.

"Everything all right here?" Jagger's voice slices through our conversation.

Brett straightens, clearly trying to look important in front of the head ranger. "Just checking on Delaney. She seems a little... disoriented."

"Does she," he says, and it's not a question. It's a statement loaded with meaning that only I can decode.

Our eyes meet across the space between us, and his gaze is like hands on my skin. He knows exactly what he's doing to me, the bastard.

"I'm perfectly fine," I say, injecting steel into my voice even as my pulse hammers against my throat. "Just heading to bed."

I push past both of them. But as I fumble with my cabin key, I can feel Jagger's eyes burning into my back.

The key sticks, of course it does, and I have to try three times before the lock finally gives. I can hear Brett saying something about early morning starts and wilderness safety, but it's white noise compared to the pounding in my ears.

I get inside and close the door, leaning against it as my heart rockets against my ribs.

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