Room Mate Read online

  Room Mate

  Katie Ashley

  Contents

  Chapter One: Caroline

  Chapter Two: Ty

  Chapter Three: Caroline

  Chapter Four: Ty

  Chapter Five: Ty

  Chapter Six: Caroline

  Chapter Seven: Ty

  Chapter Eight: Ty

  Chapter Nine: Caroline

  Chapter Ten: Ty

  Chapter Eleven: Caroline

  Chapter Twelve: Ty

  Chapter Thirteen: Caroline

  Chapter Fourteen: Ty

  Chapter Fifteen: Ty

  Chapter Sixteen: Caroline

  Chapter Seventeen: Ty

  Chapter Eighteen: Caroline

  Chapter Nineteen: Caroline

  Chapter Twenty: Ty

  Chapter Twenty-One: Ty

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Caroline

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Ty

  Epilogue: Ty

  About the Author

  Chapter One: Caroline

  Caroline

  There are some days you never expect to ruin your life, days where you want to throw your head back and scream to the sky, “Why?!!” Okay, maybe ruin is a little extreme of a description. It wasn’t like I was in Scarlett O’Hara, “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again” ruination territory. It was way less dramatic than all that, but here’s the thing: when you’ve planned everything to go a certain way and outside forces decide to shoot that perfect plan all to hell, it feels a little desperate.

  Another reason the situation seemed so dire was because it seemingly came out of nowhere. For twenty-three years, I’d lived a somewhat uneventful life in Virginia. As the youngest of my family and the only daughter, it was safe to assume I was slightly spoiled. Considering my father was a US senator and former CEO of a Fortune 500 company, I could have been one of those trust-fund twats. But, thankfully, my parents ensured that never happened by instilling a strong sense of values in my siblings and myself.

  My upbringing had inevitably influenced me when it came to my major. I’d chosen international relations so I could have a career that helped others not just here, but across the globe. I would be taking over at Read 4 Life, the literacy non-profit my mother had started back when she was a senator’s wife. I was leaving for Charleston, West Virginia, on Monday to start my new career.

  Before I left, I was slated to attend a wonderful going away dinner with my family at my parents’ house, which happened to have one of the most famous addresses in the world—the White House. What I hadn’t expected was to have the rug unceremoniously jerked out from under me. I found out every aspect of my life was about to drastically change. My loved ones sat me down for a family meeting, but it wasn’t to discuss substance abuse or spending habits; I’m way too straight-laced for all of that.

  Nope, it was to inform me that I was about to inherit a roommate—a male roommate . . . a six foot four, built like a brick shithouse, swoony British accent-speaking, Chris Hemsworth-looking male roommate.

  I can imagine what you’re thinking: who in their right mind would protest sharing their apartment with eye candy like that? Seriously, if it were anyone else, I’d be requesting to stay over on a daily basis to fully ogle all that perfection, but it wasn’t anyone else. It was me. It was my plans and my life that were getting shit on. It could’ve been some Shrek-looking dude moving in with me, and the end game would have been the same.

  Why?

  Apparently, someone I’ve never met or even laid eyes on is obsessed with me. He only knows me because I’m six degrees of separation famous—my dad is the president of the United States. Instead of going to the beach or taking a trip this summer, he spent his days sending me creepy letters. My psych minor allowed me to know I was using humor to deflect from the crushing fear I was experiencing. Because this shit was scary.

  But, before I get any more ahead of myself, let me flashback to earlier that day, a time of innocence when I was blissfully unaware of the creeping danger surrounding me, before I became aware of all the gloom and doom, before the sweetness of the apple dumpling served in honor of my soon-to-be new home in West Virginia soured completely.

  I’d spent my last day in DC out on the town. I’d done lunch with some friends, gotten my hair and nails done at my favorite salon, and then hit the mall. Now I was fighting gridlock to get back to the White House.

  After flicking a nervous gaze at the clock on the dashboard, I cringed. “We’re late,” my Secret Service agent, Stuart, announced from the passenger seat.

  “I’m well aware of that, Mom. You’ve been telling me for the last half hour.” I swear, having a Secret Service agent was like having my mother shadowing me twenty-four seven. It was the one thing I truly loathed about Dad being president—that and hearing negative things said about him.

  Stuart grumbled something under his breath. He hated when I called him Mom. Since he was a six-five, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound hulking man, he didn’t appreciate the analogy that he was a nagging mother. He also hated that I insisted on driving myself, but when Dad had been elected president, I’d vowed I wasn’t going to let my life change. There were many times when I had to be driven to an event by an agent, but this wasn’t one of those times. I felt like your normal twenty-something when I was behind the wheel—well, apart from the extensive sweep of the car before I unlocked the door. Nothing screamed subtle when a man in a dark suit and sunglasses combed your car for devices in the mall parking lot.

  Turning to Stuart, I batted my eyelashes. “Don’t you have some sort of siren in your briefcase we could use?”

  “We’re not abusing the office.”

  “You’re such a hard ass, Stuart,” I muttered.

  After glancing at his phone, he said, “We can save five minutes if you take 17th Street.”

  Flipping on my blinker, I replied, “I’m on it.”

  I wasn’t completely a stranger to having a family bodyguard. With Dad in the Senate, he often hired people to watch after my mom, brothers, and me while he was away in Washington. It was one thing to have someone assigned to the family, but it was a completely different ball game having someone—or a team of four someones—following your every move.

  I’d been finishing up my graduate degree in internal relations at Oxford when Dad received the nomination for president. That’s when Stuart and his team were introduced into my life. When Dad had been elected, my team had grown to six agents. Thankfully, they weren’t all protecting me at once. Usually, it was just one agent at a time.

  Although they never said it, I couldn’t imagine protecting me was an exciting job. Sure, they had been able to experience life in jolly old England while occasionally getting to dress in plain clothes to attend a party or have a pint at the pub. Most of the time, though, they were sitting through my lectures or watching me work on schoolwork in the library. Thrilling stuff.

  With Stuart’s direction help, I finally turned into the White House gates and eased my Range Rover up to the security stand. “Good evening, Caroline,” Terrence, the gate attendant, said.

  With a smile, I replied, “Good evening, Terrence. How are you doing today?”

  “Good, thanks. You?”

  “I’m just fine. Thank you.”

  Terrence smiled. “We’re going to miss you around here when you leave on Monday.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to miss you guys, too.”

  “You be sure to take good care of yourself.”

  “I will. Same to you.”

  Once Terrence waved us through the gate, I drove along the pathway over to the VIP entrance. That’s where the family, along with VIP guests like foreign dignitaries, entered the White House. After I parked, I reached over for my purse and then tossed my key fob inside.


  Stuart was already out of the car and around to my side before I could even open the door. Even though I was fully capable of doing it myself, he insisted he help me enter and exit the car every time we went somewhere. I was sure in his mind he envisioned some masked marauder grabbing me if he wasn’t there to stop it.

  After opening the Rover’s hatch, I started weighing down my arms with bags.

  “Would you please let me help you?” he asked exasperatedly.

  “I’ve got it.”

  “You make me look bad.”

  “Stuart, while it might be your job to open doors for me and escort me to and from the car, it’s not your job to carry my shit.”

  “While that’s true, it is my job to ensure you don’t face-plant on the marble floor before you get to the elevator.”

  Before I could argue with him that I wasn’t that klutzy, he dipped his head and pressed his finger to his earpiece. “The family just headed into the dining room.”

  Shit. I really was late if everyone was already going into the dining room. “Just let me drop this off in my room then I’ll be there.”

  He gave me a pointed look. “Or you could let me take them and you go on and meet your father.”

  Since it was fruitless to argue, I sighed. “Fine.”

  After handing over the mountain of bags, I chose to use the stairs so he could have the elevator. “Don’t be snooping in my things,” I called to him over my shoulder.

  “I’ll try hard not to.”

  “You know you secretly covet my shoe collection.”

  “Oh yes, the high heels are to die for.”

  I laughed as I bounded up the carpeted stairs. The last thing Stuart would ever do would be to pilfer through my underwear drawer or snoop in my closet. I knew without a doubt he would unceremoniously drop the shopping bags in the middle of the floor and then hightail it out of the room while grumbling about me being a shopaholic.

  Normally, I wasn’t a big shopper, but I was starting my first real adult career. In my understanding, when one starts a new career, a wardrobe is vitally important. Of course, I hadn’t purchased the usual power suits since I wasn’t going into the corporate world. While I might’ve purchased two or three nice dresses, I wanted to look approachable to my clients, which were going to be school-aged kids.

  As I walked down the carpeted halls of the residence, I couldn’t help feeling a pang of sadness at leaving. Since I’d spent the summer there, I’d grown to love every facet of the house. I loved peeking over the railings at the families on the guided tours as they came through. I’d spent days perusing the shelves of the library and eyeing the intricate patterns of the china in the China Room.

  Call me spoiled, but one of my favorite parts was having a cook. There was something to be said for someone who prepared meals to my liking versus what I would have found in the dining hall back at Oxford. Of course, I’d felt slightly guilty that my agents had been subjected to the dining hall meals as well. I was sure they were glad to be back stateside for that reason as well.

  Most of all, I was going to miss being with my parents. Even though they were both extremely busy in their own different ways, we still somehow managed to sit down to breakfast or dinner at least a few times a week. After being away from home for the last year, I’d forgotten how wonderful it was spending time with them. I’d certainly lucked out in the parent department.

  When I entered the dining room, I found everyone milling around the bar, snacking on some hors d’oeuvres. Although we were eating in the formal family dining room, everyone was dressed casually. For Dad that meant a button-down shirt without a jacket and tie, while for Mom it meant ditching her usual pantsuits and skirts for a sundress.

  I held up my hands. “I’m so sorry, guys. Traffic was insane today,” I apologized.

  “Are we using the traffic excuse again?” Dad mused with a grin.

  “It’s not an excuse if it’s the truth,” I countered.

  With a wink, he said, “Perhaps it was more like you got caught up shopping and forgot the time.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yet another reason why having a Secret Service agent sucks. They’re always ratting me out.”

  A funny look flashed on Dad’s face before he quickly turned back to the overflowing plate of stuffed mushrooms. “You better get over here before we eat all your favorites.”

  Mom set her wineglass down. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We never really expect you to be on time. You’ve been late since before you were born.”

  “Not that story again,” I groaned.

  She grinned as she hugged me. “Just wait until you’re two weeks overdue. Then you’ll appreciate me telling those stories.”

  My gaze bobbed from hers over to my older brothers, Thorn and Barrett. “Thanks for coming to see me off, guys.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, little sis,” Thorn replied before drawing me into his arms for a bear hug. He’d always been the most amazing older brother. While he’d partaken in the usual teasing and torture all older siblings do, he’d also nurtured and cajoled me. With our blond hair and blue eyes, we took after our mother as well as looking the most alike.

  Squeezing him tight, I remembered how close I’d come to losing him a year ago. After his convoy had been hit in Afghanistan, he’d been wounded and flown out to Landstuhl hospital in Germany. The moment I got the news, I left class. I’d walked aimlessly around the streets of Oxford while I waited for the necessary travel arrangements to be made so I could see him. I didn’t feel like myself again until I was able to wrap my arms around him. It was like I couldn’t process the fact that he was actually okay until I saw and touched him.

  While I had been briefed on the extent of his physical injuries, what I hadn’t been prepared for was the lifelessness in his eyes. I’d never expected such agony in his gaze. My heart had ached for such a long time, and it wasn’t until he met his girl that life came back into his expression. Love looked very good on Thorn.

  After Dad had been elected, Thorn had been forced to leave the Army and his men because of being a target to the enemy. He now lived in New York and worked for the corporation my great-grandfather had started. It was there he had met his fiancée, Isabel.

  Once Thorn released me, I kissed his cheek and then moved to hug Isabel. As the newest member of the family, she remained somewhat skittish around us. Actually, it was more that she was skittish around the White House as well as the press. Unlike my siblings, she wasn’t used to the cameras and attention that came with being a Callahan. As a ball-busting career woman, it was unusual seeing her unraveled. She also worked at the Callahan Corporation with Thorn.

  After hugging her, I turned to my brother, Barrett. With an impish grin burning in his blue eyes, he said, “I have just one thing to say to you.”

  “Uh-oh,” I mused. While Thorn was my straight-and-narrow brother, Barrett was the life of the party. I never knew what to expect from him.

  With a wink at Addison, the two started singing. “Country roads, take me home, to the place, I belong—”

  “Seriously? You’re serenading me with John Denver?” I asked.

  “West Virginia, mountain Mama! Take me home, country roads,” they finished.

  I couldn’t help applauding my goofball of a brother. “Very nice. I’m sure I’ll have it stuck in my head the rest of the night, if not the whole weekend.”

  “At least you’ll be thinking about us,” Barrett said as he opened his arms to hug me.

  “Of course I will be.” I pulled back to grin at him. “I’ll be thinking about how I’d like to secretly choke you for getting that song in my head.” Turning to Isabel, I winked. “I’ll also be grateful that at least one of you has professional singing training.”

  While Barrett and Addison laughed, Dad held up a hand. “Hey now, don’t be knocking the Denver,” he protested. It was because of him that I’d heard the song to start with. He was a connoisseur of oldies music. From the time we were kids, he alwa
ys had Motown or the Beatles blaring in the car.

  “Whatever, Dad,” I mused.

  It was then I noticed Ty Fraser, Thorn’s Secret Service agent, was also among the group. Since Ty didn’t warrant a hug, I extended a hand to him. “Uh, hello. It’s nice seeing you again.”

  He smiled. “Thank you.”

  Although the etiquette I’d been taught told me not to question him personally on what he was doing at our family going away dinner, I couldn’t help throwing a WTF look at my mother. After all, I’d been instructed it was just family, and that I shouldn’t include my boyfriend, Perry. Instead, he’d been invited to brunch on Sunday. At the time, I hadn’t stopped to argue why, but that was before Ty was about to sit down with the family.

  When she gave me a pointed look, I didn’t press it. I hoped it wasn’t because Thorn was struggling with PTSD again and needed Ty’s presence. I would never deny him that. Even with Isabel, he wasn’t back to the Thorn I’d known as a kid.

  Waving her hand, Mom instructed, “Come on, let’s eat.”

  I took a seat next to her at the gigantic table. While it was half the size of the mammoth one in the state dining room, it was still insane.

  “Tonight, I asked the chef to prepare delicacies of Appalachia in honor of your new home,” Mom said with a smile.

  “Oh goody. Bring on the coon and possum?” Barrett teased.

  With a roll of my eyes, I replied, “Way to stereotype an entire group of people, B, especially one that lives next door to where we grew up.”

  “We actually had some coon when we were on the campaign trail, didn’t we, dear?” Dad said.

  Mom wrinkled her nose. “Yes, we did.”

  “Does it taste like chicken?” Barrett inquired.