One Big Little Secret: A Secret Baby Romance (The Rory Brothers Book 2)

It takes me a full week to get Archer and Dexter together for a meeting about Evelyn’s proposal.

She sent everything over in an email so we could scope out the precise location.

Even then, Dex is easily distracted, tapping away on his phone. What the hell has marriage done to my uptight ass of a brother?

I clap my hands in his face.

“Focus,” I tell him. “I brought you guys in today so we could make a big decision. Evelyn deserves an answer sooner rather than later, whatever we decide.”

Dexter gives me an annoyed grin. I barely recognize this man. It’s like the work-obsessed demon that once possessed him has crawled into me instead.

“Okay, fine,” he says, drumming his fingers on the table. At least that hasn’t changed. “So she wants us to invest in one or two properties? The lakefront places?”

“Three cabins, technically. She needs funds to refurbish them, so she’s effectively asking for us to shoulder the cost up front. She also wants a one-time use fee. Future payments will be split between her as retirement income and paying us back for the renovations.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Archer grumbles, pulling at his grey-shot beard. “That’s a damn big investment up front on our part. Even for a family friend.”

“The question is, do we think this market is worth it? I have a few answers.” I bring up Salem’s notes on my laptop, neatly typed and organized, scanning them again. “Preliminary research indicates there is a clear opportunity here. Traffic to the north shore is at all-time highs. Waterfront properties are booming, even for cabin purchases and such. There aren’t enough rentals to go around, and high-end options are practically nonexistent outside Duluth.”

I pull up the graphs Salem compiled showing Minnesota tourism and project it on the screen so they can see. I give them a minute to look it over.

“Can’t see much downside, even if it will cost us a fair chunk of money to buy in,” Dexter says. “We’re also in a strong position. With The Cardinal off to a solid start, and first quarter revenues looking strong, where’s the harm in expansion?”

“Exactly,” I say.

“If we do things her way, there’s limited commitment beyond the renovations,” Archer says. “We can take the hit, yes—but it’s still a risk. The question is, do we want to if things go sour?”

“Arch…” I roll my eyes. “Where would we be without a little risk?”

“Probably avoiding partnerships with men who could get us killed,” he growls.

“Aw, shit. If you’re talking about Haute again, you might as well—”

“Guys.” Dexter holds up his hands. “I took the brunt of that mess, remember? Can we forget about it for ten seconds? I swear, why does this shit always happen with you two?”

For a second, we turn our eyes down, trying to get back on track.

“I looked high and low for major risks in the research,” I say, because I would never turn up to a meeting empty-handed, especially with Archer. “Look at the ten-year tourism trend for northern Minnesota. There’s clearly a gap in the market that’s exploitable. And if we use Evelyn’s properties, we won’t have to purchase them outright ourselves. If there’s a black swan event and it doesn’t work out, we haven’t lost too much skin. We also won’t have to worry about flipping underperforming properties.”

“Losing is still losing. Even when it happens slowly.” Archer wags a finger.

“Welcome to business, my man. Like it or not, you always have to take risks or you’re not moving forward. There’s also the potential for a huge reward.”

I prop my chair up on its wheels triumphantly, leaning back, a dumb habit I just can’t break.

“We have guaranteed rewards here in Kansas City,” Archer says, but I can tell he’s cracking.

The whole Haute incident scared him shitless. He never wanted to partner with anyone else, understandably, but this is Mom’s oldest friend we’re talking about. It’s not like she’d ever crawl into bed with the mob.

This time, it’s different. There’s also less commitment here.

Plus, we’ll be expanding our reach in a way that I know appeals to Archer once he’s thought it through.

“I know our last partnership went way off track. But this is Evelyn Hibbing we’re talking about. She’s not going to call up a mafia hit man if she doesn’t get her way. And haven’t we been talking about moving north, even before Omaha came up?” I pause, letting it sink in before I continue. “We have the potential to get a foot deep into the market there, and if it works, think what else we could do.”

Archer grunts. “We always said we’d make the decision to expand outstate slowly.”

“And this is us, making that decision now. Slowly.” I stress the last word.

Dex glances at us. “When you’re both done bickering, I think we should go for it.”

“Of course you would.” Archer’s lips thin, knowing it’s two-on-one.

“For fuck’s sake, Arch, don’t be like that. This isn’t personal.” Dexter flattens his hands in front of him. Now he means business. “The Cardinal is doing well. Spectacular, really, if the early bookings keep up into the spring. Think how we could capitalize on that.”

“We can look into it,” Archer grinds out. “I’d like to see more details on what repairs and renovations she really needs, and if we think it’s worth the investment. If these places are falling down, it’s a fucking veto from me. And if we agree, we’ll get a contract drawn up and try to pilot one of these places for fourth quarter.”

“Fair enough.” I make a mental note. “If we get cooking and send up our own contractors with bonus pay, rather than looking for locals, we could possibly catch the late summer crowd.”

“Sold.” Dex puts his hands behind his head and stretches. “By the way, pass on our congratulations to your new manager, Pat. She’s pulling her weight.” He sends me a long, hard look. “You better be giving her the mentorship time she deserves and not fucking off.”

“No half-assing it,” Archer agrees, pointing a finger. “I know you.”

“Since when have I ever half-assed anything with The Cardinal?” I let my chair fall back on its legs and flip them off. “I could win business mentor of the year, you pricks.”

Dex laughs bitterly.

“You’re not winning squat with your personality. You and Salem don’t exactly get along.” Archer shrugs. “That’s all I’ve got to say about it, though. This mentor gig is your responsibility. Don’t let us find out you’re shitting it up so bad we have to step in.”

I glower at him.

“I recommended some of the books in your office,” Dex tells me.

“I know. Guys, she’s getting all the mentoring she needs, I promise.” I huff loudly. “Hell, she came with me to meet Evelyn. I’m including her in all the major business activities, even beyond The Cardinal. I spent an hour sledding with her kid, and if you knew him, you’d give me a purple heart.”

I grit my teeth.

The little monster wasn’t half-bad, really, but they don’t need to know that.

“Whatever you say, guru.” Dexter gives me that grating skeptical look he specializes in.

“The fact is, she’s got great instincts and she doesn’t need much hand-holding. More like practical advice and more experience in the right situations.” I lean my chair back again. “Hell, the cocoa bar alone will probably bring in repeat customers. She knows what she’s doing. I’m just coaching her.”

Archer raises his brows.

“So you’re making excuses for sitting back and letting her do all the work. Typical Pat,” he spits.

“I’m giving her opportunities to figure shit out,” I throw back. “I’m even covering her babysitter for the long evenings when her usual nanny’s out. What other job offers that?”

“Wait.” Dexter frowns at me. “You spent your own money on a babysitter for her kid?”

“You?” Archer sounds just as incredulous. “Patton, I know you. You’re a tight-fisted little shit who never learned how to spend money on anything that doesn’t have fins and tentacles. What about this woman changed your mind?”

I don’t answer.

I’m already in too fucking deep.

The last thing I need is either of these clowns adding to the confusion that’s been churning up my blood wherever Salem Hopper is concerned.

“Make up your minds. Do you want me to be a good mentor or what? I’m not shortchanging her on anything, and that’s the point.”

“A mentor—not a sponsor,” Archer says gruffly. “You sure you’re feeling okay, Pat? You haven’t gone and hit your head recently or been replaced by someone normal?”

A booming laugh falls out of him.

“Fuck you, man. I hope Colt brings home a rabid raccoon and turns it loose in your bed while you’re asleep.”

I know they’re teasing, but knowing the weight of my history with Salem, this goofy conversation stings more than it should.

“Also, I don’t have time to take your shit. I’ve got work to do.”

“Patton—” Dexter calls from behind me, but I’m up and moving, and I slam the door behind me a second later.

Maybe pitching in to help cover her sitter expenses was a step too far, but what was I supposed to do? Tell them it was so her son couldn’t come along and destroy The Cardinal’s lobby again?

And where the hell is that kid’s absentee father, anyway? I’d like to beat his face in.

Let them think whatever they want.

It’s a practical decision.

And if we’re taking on this Minnesota expansion, there’s no more time for kicking back and gossiping like birds while we have a business to run.

I find Salem in her office, hunched over her keyboard with headphones on as she hums softly to the music.

I’m not surprised.

She runs around plenty, but she seems more at home tucked away here, in the back where she can organize and plan to her heart’s content.

For a second, I stand in the doorway and watch her. It’s always slightly cracked so the staff can approach her if they need to.

Like usual, her hair is piled up at the back of her head in a bun, the dark strands starkly rising against the pale skin of her neck.

She purses her lips as she works, turning them up to one side. I can see the reflection in the picture next to her, a photo of her with a younger Arlo from a couple years ago.

Shit, do not think about her lips.

Or the way they feel.

The way she had melted in my arms once, all buttery curves and gentle heat.

The way she looked at me right before she came on my cock.

It’s like I was her entire world that night, and the sex meant more than a standard one-off fuck.

Damn.

I might hate her abrasiveness at times, but there’s no denying she’s still a knockout. Hazel eyes swirling with gold flakes, wide cheekbones, full lips made to torment my dick.

Six years ago was a brutal mistake, but now, even if I knew this would happen, I think I’d make it all over again.

Enough, man.

Screw your head back on.

I clear my throat, trying to banish the invasive thought as I knock on her open door.

“This a good time to talk?” I ask.

She glances up, but instead of the annoyed look I half expect, she just pushes a strand of unruly raven hair back from her face.

I bite back a smile.

No matter how neat her bun looks in the morning, there are always wisps that escape as the day wears on, curling around her cheekbones.

“Patton. Come in.” She blinks at me. There’s a strange awareness in her eyes and a flush creeping over her cheeks.

Maybe she hasn’t forgotten the last time we saw each other and the civility isn’t lost yet.

“Don’t mean to disturb you,” I say, closing the door behind me. Bad idea—I immediately open it again. “I just wanted to check in. You know, mentoring you like I should.”

“No need to sound so reluctant,” she says dryly. “I was just revamping the recommended ‘winter eats’ guide from the local restaurants for spring.”

“Yeah?” I pull up a chair beside her and look at the screen. Instead of the usual high-end health nut options, she’s added things like stews, pasta, barbecue, and— “Is that pizza?”

“Only the fancy stuff,” she promises. “It’s from the Italian place down the road with great reviews. The one with the woodfire ovens? They won some shout-out recently from a big national paper for their pies and gelato, and I thought we could use that.”

“Our clientele tend to be very health-conscious.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve been making note of the winter crowd, and there’s a trend toward younger guests. They’re somewhat less inclined to eat like birds.”

“Our current menu doesn’t require anyone to eat like birds.”

She swivels to face me.

“Think about it like this. You’re young and active with money to burn. You’ve been out doing stuff all day, even in the winter. Sledding, walking, exploring the town in the cold and the snow, whatever. You come back here to one of the fanciest places in the whole of Kansas City, and you get a restaurant guide featuring salads and salmon dishes.”

“It’s hardly just—”

“Imagine if you knew where you could get good lasagna. Or pizza. Or barbecue ribs. All ready to grab just a few blocks away or order in. That’s also way more authentic to Kansas City.”

Truth be told, I’ve never gotten by on salads myself. Dexter’s the health freak in our family, allergic to sugar and spice and everything nice until his wife started unfucking his palate.

I’ll keep shamelessly loving a burger bursting with stringy cheese and grease.

“Fine,” I say. “This is for the spring menu? It’s coming up fast.”

“I have a few more ideas. I’d like to try out the places in person first just to get a feel. You asked me not to change anything without data backing it up.”

“So you’re a food critic now?” I chuckle. “Any changes are supposed to be guest-led.” And I suppose these are in a roundabout way. “Fine. But what about the restaurants we’re abandoning?”

“I’ve thought about that. They don’t care what dishes they provide as long as The Cardinal gets their business. Aside from the pizza—and I know that’s a wild-card—we’re still featuring a lot of food from the same places as before. Just for different food.”

“For a similar price?”

She smiles. I try like hell not to notice the way one cheek dimples. It gives her a lopsided look that’s irritatingly charming.

I must keep a leash on my dick.

“The restaurants won’t be taking any losses, that’s for sure,” she says. “And it might help prevent food waste—some folks have been going out rather than eating at The Cardinal, which this new menu might help avoid.”

I hold up my hands. “All right, I see your point. I told you to follow the data. If it says changing up the food works, then let’s go for it.”

“A vote of confidence? From you?”

Her dimple shows up again. I want to bite the back of my wrist.

“I’m not incapable of compliments, you know.” I glance at her menu draft before leaning back in my chair, pushing it onto the back two legs. “I’ll admit, you surprised me.”

“You mean surprised you without letting my kid ruin another suit?”

I can’t help smiling.

“It was a rocky start. It doesn’t mean shit now.” Understatement of the year.

“I thought you were going to fire me right there,” she says wryly.

“I wanted to. But you came here with a recommendation that carries some weight. I had to give you a chance.”

“And how much do you regret that now?”

My smile disappears.

She doesn’t understand.

I don’t regret it at all—and that thought makes me slam the chair back on all fours.

“You’re doing well. Everything I’d expect in this role, plus churning out new ideas that matter,” I tell her. “The Cardinal’s better with your care and we’re looking profitable. I’d be a damn fool to regret anything.”

“I feel like there’s a but coming…” Her gaze flicks away.

“No but this time. I’ll even admit Arlo seems like a good kid—if he’d just rein in his sugar highs and cool it on the nicknames.”

“Oh, like Grumpybutt? You’re still mad?” She laughs. “I mean, it was bad of him, but you’ve got to admit it suited you.”

“I don’t have to admit anything.” I shake my head. “You realize you’re talking to the fun one out of my brothers, right?”

The guy who never gets taken seriously, I don’t say.

“You?” She blinks at me.

“Who else? Archer’s life has been about business before there was a business. He’s too sensible and he has a lump of coal where his heart should be. Dex, he was the workaholic. Way more than me back in his bachelor days, if you can believe.” I shrug because it’s not true anymore. “I’m the little brother. The guy who has to work twice as hard if I want their punk asses to take me seriously.”

“So, you’re the one who knows how to relax? When there isn’t something to prove, I mean?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” I’m incredulous.

She considers it, looking me up and down with a straight face.

“You kinda suck,” she says, breaking into a smile that kills me. “But not all the time. I’ll give you that.”

Holy shit, stop the presses.

“Is that a compliment?”

She ducks her head as her cheeks burst pink, a few more strands of hair falling from her bun. No surprise, really. Her hair looks so silky it’s amazing it stays pinned up at all.

I wonder how she’d feel if I brushed them back behind her ears.

Would I be able to do it without giving in to the urge to fist her hair?

Shit, what would her skin feel like under my fingers? It’s been so long and she was so soft, I’ve almost forgotten how—

No.

Dangerous, dangerous thoughts.

“Sorry for dumping the Minnesota research on your pile,” I say. Back to work. Safe ground. “It’s helping, though, and we’re closing in on a decision soon. I can stick around and help you sort the latest stuff, if you’d like.”

Her finger stills from tapping her desk idly. She sends me a compulsive glance.

“Help?”

“I’ve been doing the legwork with new ventures for a while. While it’s all very tentative right now, we’re looking at moving forward. We just need a little more time to ensure the big investment in these cabins will pay off.”

“I never thought it wasn’t serious,” she says, but she doesn’t start working again. She also doesn’t look at me. The desk holds all her attention. “And I appreciate the offer, but I work on stuff like this better when I’m alone.”

“You’re like me, then.”

“What? You’re a spreadsheet loner, too?”

“Something like that. Not having to constantly communicate every last thought feels refreshing; it streamlines things. Even if teamwork is a necessity.”

“Your brothers are that hard on you, huh?”

I glare.

“I wouldn’t call that teamwork, more like obligation. Still, we get along well enough to keep growing. We can cooperate.”

“It’s funny. Before I came here, I never imagined there was so much internal friction with the articles written about Higher Ends. You’re lucky the press hasn’t picked up on it,” she says, and I can’t tell if she’s teasing.

“We’re mature enough to keep our shit-flinging private.”

“Smart.” She nods, tucking a lock of that dark hair behind her ear. “I actually had something I wanted to ask you, though…”

I stare at her, noting the way she still won’t meet my gaze.

“Spit it out. I won’t bite,” I say, more dryly than intended.

“I just wanted to know if it was okay if I head out a little early today? Once I get my work done, I mean. Arlo has a karate lesson tonight and I can’t be late.”

“For sure,” I say, wondering why she even needs to ask permission. Unless one of the staff—who seem to adore her—were to tell someone, I’d never know. “Your hours aren’t as important as the deadlines. I’ve told you before. As long as you wrap up your work and sign everything off for our overnight guy, you can leave when you’d like.”

“It won’t be a regular thing,” she assures me. “Just tonight.”

“Was I complaining?” I stand reluctantly, hating that I wonder even more about her life. Why does she feel so small that she has to beg for time off just to be with her son? “Do you feel like you’re handling the workload?”

“What do you mean?”

“Am I laying it on too thick?” Like the Minnesota project, which is outside her duties here. “I understand you need a life outside this place, Salem. You’re a mom.”

“Thanks. That’s very considerate.” She frowns, her brows knitting together.

Her surprise irritates me.

“I never like to overwork my employees. Like I’ve said before, that’s for executives only.”

“I’m not overworked, Patton.” She turns back to her screen now. “As a matter of fact, I like it. And if I help contribute to your expansion, that’s a great thing for my résumé.”

For when she leaves.

Which is inevitable, sooner or later, because this job and a glorified mentorship isn’t meant to be a long-term forever career. I’m sure she has dreams beyond the company, whether that’s leveraging this experience for a new job or another business venture.

“Of course,” I growl.

Understandable. All of it.

I just don’t get why there’s this anxious gnawing in my chest at the thought of her walking out of my life a second time, like a stranger in the night.

Goddamn, that isn’t my place.

I shouldn’t want to leave a permanent mark on her life.

Especially when her moving on is clearly what’s best, the only thing that should happen in any sane world.

“Get out of here at a decent hour,” I tell her.

When I turn around in the doorway and look back, she’s barely nodding, already back to crushing her improvements like I was never here at all.