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

It takes me five damn days to hunt down Evelyn Hibbing.

Three days of trekking through Miami and then the Bahamas, talking with police and tracing her steps, following every crumb of information, until I finally stumble across her in Nassau.

The sun feels sickly warm on the back of my neck as I watch the hell-witch who could’ve murdered my son.

She’s perched at a small café overlooking the sea, reading peacefully. It’s a near idyllic scene, just an old woman with a book basking in the afternoon shade. You’d never guess there’s a thieving, child-poisoning monster underneath.

Just like how you’d never guess she spent all night gambling away thousands of dollars at a casino down the street.

Probably old habits kicking in. A little tip from Archer he heard from Mom reminded me that Evelyn used to come back from Vegas joking bitterly about going broke.

Hell, maybe she’s even lost her mind completely, desperately trying to double down on stupid and grow her money before she jets off to another continent.

At least I know where her husband’s money went now.

I lean back in my chair and take a long pull from the beer I ordered. She hasn’t even thought to look up or check her surroundings. Guess when you’re so practiced at scamming, you get cocky.

And it’s that arrogance—like giving a slight variation of her real name at the hotel—that told me exactly where she’s staying. That’s how I found her today, curled up with her book and her coffee, hiding in plain sight and only looking up every so often to smile at the waves as she breathes in the cool ocean breeze.

Salem would love it here. I can just see Arlo running along the beach, too, turning over rocks for shells and tiny crabs.

For a man determined not to think about home, I’m goddamned stuck on it—especially her.

I watch Evelyn flip another page in her book.

I force back a groan, turning my gaze away. Here, the ocean stretches on as far as the eye can see, a glinting blue carpet that’s perfect for swimming or boating or whatever people do here when they have time and money for fun.

I wonder idly how much Evelyn lost last night.

A metric fuckton, probably.

I kept my distance, watching from the shadows, knowing casino security was too tight to try anything then. She bounced around the entire floor, hitting everything from roulette to blackjack to flashy celebrity branded slots.

She should’ve known her luck wouldn’t last. Winning streaks never do. It’s basic math in gambling. What comes up must come down, and it happens much faster when you’re pissing away money in games where the house always wins.

Eventually, after I’ve been sitting around for hours, slowly burning to a crisp, she pushes up from her lounge chair, plops her book in her bag, and leaves a few crisp bills on the table for the server. A nice tip she can easily afford with her ill-gotten gains.

Fucking finally.

That’s my cue to pack my shit up, too, keeping a careful eye on her as she walks along the road. Back to the hotel, probably, or maybe to the beach for one last walk before sunset.

I pull out my phone and make a quick call.

Thankfully, it isn’t busy in the offseason.

As soon as she turns onto an empty street, I pick up my pace, closing on her fast.

She barely has time to turn around before I’ve grabbed her arm, dragging her into a nearby alley.

It stinks—just like every trash-filled alleyway everywhere—a reminder of the grim reality staring me in the face.

Paradise my ass. Even here, there’s plenty gone rotten.

“Patton?” she gasps. Her eyes bug out as they focus.

There’s no point in trying to escape. I’m holding her too tightly, and it feels good to dig my fingers in until she gasps.

I hope her squirming leaves a bruise.

I’m not a cruel man, no, but she hurt my son.

“Hello, Evelyn,” I clip. From the way her eyes widen, my smile must look as vacant as it feels. “Thought you’d escaped with our money, huh?”

“Patton, please. Think what you’re doing,” she whispers, her hands fumbling at my grip helplessly.

“I’ve given that plenty of thought, lady.” I slam her against the wall, savoring the fear flashing across her face. She looks like she’s about to faint, but I’ve known her a long time. Evelyn Hibbing isn’t the kind to clock out. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Oh, dearie, oh God, I… I suppose you must be very angry with me.” She shifts back to her usual innocent sounding babble. I wonder if it’s always been an act. “Yes, I did you wrong, of course. But I think—if you let me go, maybe it’s not too late to get her jewelry back. I’ll lead you right to it.”

“You read my mind,” I snap. “Trouble is, I know you’ve already sold it, and I also know where. I don’t need your help.”

“What? Oh, yes, well…” Panic fills her voice as she gives up trying to break my hold and glances down at her bag. “But it’s recoverable, Patton. I just know it. If you’ll simply let me—”

Enough.

I grab her wrists and pin them to the wall.

The stone feels scalding under my fingers, and her skin feels thin and papery.

“What’s in there?” I ask, nodding to the bag. “Mace? Were you going to burn my face off and try to run? Are you that predictable?” I lean in, putting my face too close to hers. She smells like alcohol, some chocolatey liquor that was in her coffee drink.

“Patton, please. You’re scaring me.”

“Good.” I stare at her until she shrinks back. “Listen, I’m not here because you stole Mom’s jewelry and fucked her over. I could’ve let the police handle that.” I tighten my grip on her and lower my voice. It’s either this or give in to the temptation to roar in her face, but I’m deathly quiet as I say, “But there are no words in the world that will make me forgive you for trying to kill my son.”

“Kill him? Oh, no, I—” She stops. Her mouth hangs loosely as she stares at me. I think she’s tracing the features Arlo and I share, if she isn’t trying to find a flimsy excuse for trying to murder a child. “I wasn’t trying to kill him,” she whispers haltingly. “Just… enough to make him sick and—and of course I hated it! But I needed a diversion, and—”

“A diversion? How?”

I shake her.

Her lips quiver. “His juice! I slipped in the slightest concentrate when no one else was looking. Just enough to cause an upset tummy, his heart was never in any danger, I made sure. I never wanted to hurt the boy too badly, I swear.”

Does she fucking hear herself?

It’s a living miracle I don’t snap her neck like a stick.

“Bull. Shit.” I yank her back through the alley, pulling until we’re back in the tropical sun. A diversion.

That’s all Arlo was to her. Fully expendable.

With the demon’s confession, I drag her down the street, making sure I have a firm hold as she begs for mercy. The recording app on my phone will do the rest now, plus a little muscle.

It’s hard as hell not to strangle her in broad daylight.

The hardest thing I’ve ever done.

The Nassau detectives I tipped off this morning are waiting by a scenic overlook.

“Oh, no! Oh, no, no, no. Oh, Patton, no!” When she sees them, she starts kicking like a mule, braying loudly enough for people to look up nearby, but I don’t give a shit.

As soon as the detectives spot us, they hurry forward.

“Let me go!” she howls, her voice high and unfamiliar. “I’m innocent. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do any of it.”

One of the detectives nods at me.

I nod back.

The timing couldn’t be better.

As they haul her away in handcuffs with her head hanging miserably, I take a stroll under the sun, staring at the wide turquoise sea.

It glitters, inviting and warm. There’s no denying it’s gorgeous here. There’s plenty to do on this island, if you want to throw your cares to the wind.

Old Patton, he would’ve stayed a few days just for the trouble of getting here. But new Patton just wants to get the hell out of here on the first flight home.

I think about Salem and Arlo, how much I wish I had my family here to take the edge off.

Sure, I’ve been ignoring her messages to stay focused. Mostly so I don’t get distracted, but also because I’m at a loss for words.

She let me know he’s recovering. He’s on the mend, and I let that message go unanswered, too, as much as I hated it.

This isn’t just about Arlo anymore. It’s about them, knowing how much they belong in my life, now more than ever.

I can’t let her go.

And maybe she’ll fling it right back in my face, because what right do I have to keep her with me if she doesn’t want to be there, but I’m not giving up without a fight.

Not this time.

Not with Salem.

Not without Arlo.

I need to reclaim my family.

And if she’ll still have me, I won’t mince words.

I’ll bring them home forever.

Mom’s house looks like it’s hosting the entire family when I get back after a sleepless night of delayed flights and layovers.

Arch parked his vehicle slightly crooked on the driveway. Same for Dexter, who’s parked neatly beside it, almost like he wanted to make a point about Arch’s terrible parking.

The thought makes me grin, though it vanishes a second later.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m taking the steps to the front door two at a time and barreling inside.

“Daddy!” Arlo comes flying down the hall, his feet slapping the carpet. His face is split by the widest grin and he—

Wait, what?

What the hell did he just call me?

He launches himself into my arms, clearly expecting me to swing him around.

There’s a second where I’m too stunned to move, but after a breathless heartbeat, I grab him and press him to my chest. He smells like laundry and fresh cooking and that little kid smell that’s distinctly his.

Fuck me, for the first time I can remember, I worry about tearing up.

“I told him,” Salem announces quietly over his shoulder. She’s standing back a pace, wringing her hands together, barely holding in tears of her own.

Well, hell, at least we make a great pair today.

Arlo has his hands around my neck. I’ll be damn happy if he never lets go.

“Delly knows, too. I couldn’t wait to tell her, no matter what happens. Even if”—her voice trembles—“even if you never want to see me again.”

“Mommy told me you’re my daddy!” Arlo says cheerfully. “Does that mean I’m gonna be a superhero, too?”

“Sure thing, buddy.” My voice is thick, but I’m past caring. “Sorry I couldn’t be around when your mom gave you the big news.”

“It’s okay. She said you were busy saving the world,” he says smugly.

“Yeah?” I look at Salem, who watches me warily with a slight flush on her cheeks.

It hasn’t been a full week since I saw her, but it feels like twenty years.

There’s nothing I want to do more right now than swing her into my arms and kiss her until she can’t remember her own name.

But a lot needs to happen first.

So I just take my sweet time hugging Arlo until he wiggles, then I set him down.

Behind Salem, Mom gives me a knowing smile and holds her arms out. “Come on, little monster,” she says. “Colt has some old Legos in the library and he’s waiting for you.”

“I have Lego dinosaurs,” Arlo tells me before he scampers away, taking Mom’s hand as easily as she offered it.

I blink at the interaction, letting it soak in, smiling like the biggest idiot on Earth.

The kids must know they’re related. They all know about Arlo.

Shit, they know about me.

Salem doesn’t move, her hazel eyes fixed on my face with the same wariness as before. The egomaniac in me hoped she might throw herself at me in relief that I’m back and everything’s sorted. Though I guess she doesn’t know it yet.

“I found Evelyn,” I say. “Handed her straight to the police. They’ll prosecute her soon, and it should be an open-and-shut case with the confession I recorded. There’s a chance we might track down Mom’s jewelry, too, though the dealer who got it sold some pieces off already.”

“What about your money?” The ghost of a frown she’s wearing touches her eyes.

“I don’t give a shit. I can live without it and so can my brothers. That’s not why I went after her.”

She swallows thickly.

I take a step toward her, and to my relief, she doesn’t bolt away.

Not even when I’m standing in front of her, gazing down into hot honey-brown eyes that haven’t stopped haunting me since the day I walked out.

“I did it for Arlo,” I tell her. “For you.”

I think she’s stopped breathing. This would be a fine moment for the conversation we need to have, but if I know my brothers, they’re just waiting for the perfect opportunity to burst in and ruin everything.

Privacy isn’t their strong suit.

“Let’s talk in the garden,” I suggest, reaching for her hand, then stopping.

Slow and steady, that’s the play here. We need to smooth out the wrinkles first before I can kiss her, even if her lips are constant torture.

And those plush lips part as she takes a breath. Her gaze drops to my hand, a hint of confusion forming before she nods.

We walk together in silence, giving me time to think about how I don’t know what to say.

Feelings were never my strong suit.

I can do charm, I can do seduction, I can do grand gestures. But this—talking about what I really want and why it’s her—it’s foreign as hell when you’ve always kept a barbed wire fence around your inner self.

Before I can blink, we’re in the garden and she’s looking up at me expectantly.

I still have absolutely no idea what to say.

Fuck.

I’ve never had a beautiful woman who means the world looking at me with so much hope welling in her eyes.

“Salem, I’m sorry,” I say roughly. “For leaving. For flying off the handle and going rogue, even if I knew it was right. And I’m sorry for leaving you in the dark.”

Her eyes narrow, just enough to send ice down my spine. “Honestly, I wondered if you were coming back at all…”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” I say, an excuse so pathetic I almost smile. Almost. “The fact is, I couldn’t say any of this shit over the phone. I had to see you. I wanted—” I stop cold. What I really wanted was to make sure I didn’t scare her away. “I wanted to see you.”

“Really? You could’ve fooled me. The way you stormed out that night—” Her throat bobs, proving this entire conversation haunts her as much as me.

And clearly, I still have a lot of explaining to do.

But the stubborn bastard in me folds his arms. I was the prick who left, but not without good reason.

“Can you blame me? After you said you were leaving for the Ozarks? All I ever had on my mind was a future together, especially after Arlo got sick.”

She looks away quickly.

“Okay, that was a mistake.” Her breath hisses out and she backs up a step. “And look, I’m sorry, okay? I should have been more open with my feelings. I shouldn’t have talked like I could just freeze you out and run. Deep down, I never could.”

Her throat ticks harshly.

“Lady Bug,” I growl, moving closer. “That much honesty takes practice. If you can learn to forgive and forget, so can I.”

“Yeah, but God, this isn’t what I wanted to talk about. I imagined this going differently.”

I nod. “There was more kissing involved in my mind.”

A fucking jackass comment, maybe, but it makes her look up at me sharply with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Kissing?” I hate how foreign the word sounds on her lips.

Truth be told, I imagined us doing a hell of a lot more than kissing, but that’s not the point.

“I came here to tell you I fucked up by leaving. Maybe I still had to, but it could’ve gone down differently, yeah. I had to chase down Evelyn. I didn’t have to freeze you out when we were in the thick of a crisis nobody should ever experience.”

Hurt shadows her face.

For a second, I think she’ll turn away and run back in the house, which I’d deserve. But then her head tilts and a smile touches her mouth.

Whatever comes next, I know she’s not about to dump my ass.

“You mean your big ego lets you admit when you screwed up?”

“My ego allows a damn lot of things. Even when it gets big and overgrown like a weed.”

Her smile widens into the expression I’ve been waiting for, that shine in her eyes that brings out the gold. “Somehow, I don’t think you came all this way to tell me that.”

“I didn’t.” I move in, trailing my mouth over her ear, loving the way she shudders and how her breath hitches. “And if you’d stop sassing me for a minute, I might be able to tell you my other mistakes.”

“So talk. Spill it,” she challenges.

Growling, I take her earlobe between my teeth and pull, not bothering to hide my smug smile. “My first mistake was not staying longer that first night when you asked.”

“Would it have prevented this?”

“Don’t know, but I should’ve stepped up for you and Arlo. Turning over the house for proof didn’t help much anyway.” I turn my attention to her neck, tasting her skin. She grips my biceps, digging her nails in. “Mistake number two—not keeping you chained up in my bed. I never should’ve let you go home.”

“Who said I would’ve stayed?” Her laugh tickles.

Absolutely no one, but that messes with my narrative, so I ignore it.

“We both know you would have. I might’ve convinced you then and there to say fuck the Ozarks.” I brush my lips over her skin until I feel her pulse, tracing it with my tongue until she shivers. “My biggest mistake was hands down letting you go.”

“When?”

“Every single time,” I rasp, bringing my lips home.

Oh, shit.

She tastes like new beginnings, all salt and fading sadness and the cinnamon-orange scent of Salem Hopper. I don’t need some expensive perfume like her friend’s company cranks out to get harder than a diamond just from breathing this woman.

I only need her.

Every brittle, broken piece.

If I have my way this time—if I have a second chance—I won’t leave her worn. I’ll keep her together, safe and whole, complete in a way she’s never been. I’ll also make her damn tired of hearing how much I love her.

She lets out a small gasp, almost a moan. I practically forget what I came here to do.

As much as I want to sneak back inside before the others notice and fuck her senseless, there’s something else I need to say first.

“For the record, I made one more mistake,” I whisper against her mouth, pulling away just long enough to see her dark eyes consumed with the same need roaring in my blood. “I should’ve told you I loved you a hell of a lot sooner.”

Her jaw pinches tightly. She trembles in my arms, pushing back so she can read my eyes.

I give her the truth, and nothing but, standing silently until she answers with a smile. “I was a little shocked. I thought you’d never say it.”

“We’ve already established I fucked up, woman. Do you forgive me?”

With a solemn look, she plants her feet against the ground and presses her hands into my shoulders like she’s about to say something heavy. I slide my hands to her waist and wait.

“I forgive you, Patton—but only if you forgive me for freaking out and getting scared. It’s hard to get past that when it’s all I’ve ever done my whole life.”

“Done,” I whisper.

“Me too.” Her smile sharpens. “I’m done being a black cat. I want this. I want you. I even stood up to my parents. They flew in when they heard about Arlo, begging me to move in with them… I couldn’t have fought back before. Not before you.”

“I’m proud of you,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss her again, but she pushes a finger against my lips.

“I wasn’t finished. Because I don’t just love you back. You… you drive me wild. Some days, I want to strangle you. But despite that, I can’t stop thinking about you and the family we could be. I know this won’t be easy, but that’s also what makes it so, so good. I want to stand my ground. I want to fight for this, Patton, for you and me and Arlo. No more escape attempts or sudden freak-outs, I promise.” She takes her hands off my shoulders and cups my face with a sweetness that resonates in my bones.

“Big words. You sure about that, Lady Bug?”

“Yes! I’m positive I can’t do anything else,” she whispers. “Because I’m in love with you, dork. Plus, Arlo will kill me someday if he finds out I messed things up with his hero.”

I chuckle with a warmth that ripples through me.

That’s it, right there.

Everything I hoped for and more—what I was counting on her saying—but hearing it hits different. It’s like seeing a painting of a gorgeous sunset versus witnessing the real deal in person.

It turns out, loving someone else and telling them is the strongest drug known to man, and dangerously addictive.

Hearing it with the joy in her voice and the tears in her eyes isn’t enough.

I want to hear it forever.

I want to watch the shape of her lips as she speaks every syllable.

I want to whisper it back to her when I’m balls deep inside her, making her look at me before her body convulses.

What started as pure temptation has become a brute need like air and water. But first, there’s one more thing.

“Salem,” I growl, slipping a hand into my pocket and pulling out the small box I brought home. “Being away from you made me realize how much you mean to me. It also made me hate how much time we’ve wasted.”

Her hands flutter to her mouth as she stares down. “Is that—holy—are you serious? Right now?”

“If that’s a yes, I am.”

“Um. Oh my God. Okay. But I think you need to get down on one knee first,” she says breathlessly. She steps back, giving me space.

I don’t care that the grass is damp and it’ll probably stain my trousers.

A second later, I’m kneeling, popping open that little black box with my thumb.

The ring I picked is white gold with a sapphire stone, framed with diamonds because it reminds me of her. How she put the color back in my life, and all the money and people and magnetic moments will always be in her orbit, swirling around the true center.

“Salem Hopper,” I say, my voice too low. The ring was a spur-of-the-moment decision when I saw the jewelry shop in Nassau, and I’m pretty sure couples usually discuss this sort of thing in advance. If she’s not ready, I won’t blame her one bit, but I’m also not losing this chance to keep her.

Tonight, we’re all in.

“I love you,” I say. “I fell for you faster than I’d ever believe. I had it coming, even before I found out Arlo was mine. Fate reached down through years apart and shook me the fuck awake. So I want to do this family thing properly. I don’t want to wait. I want you as my wife. I want you where you belong—right by my side, forever.”

A painful moment passes.

Seconds feel like days, months, years.

Then she grins, wide enough to bring the sun out through the evening gloom.

“Yes,” she whispers, her eyes watering. Her bottom lip quivers. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Grumpybutt.”

Music to my ears.

I’m laughing like a madman as I slide the ring on her finger before she can change her mind. It looks like it was always meant to be there, hugging her finger like a promise forged from our worries and doubts, remade into something beautiful.

There’s a deep satisfaction in my chest, this greedy caveman thing, seeing her wearing my ring.

She’s mine.

She’s all fucking mine.

Inhaling roughly, I pull her into my arms.

“I might be many things, Lady Bug,” I tell her, my lips a whisper from hers, “but I’m no damn grumpybutt anymore.”

“You don’t kiss like one, I guess. Hard to argue with that,” she says, closing the distance.

Time stops cold as I claim her mouth, teasing what I mean to do to the rest of her later, the second we’re alone.

I don’t give a shit if my brothers are watching and jeering from the windows, or if Mom’s looking on with teary-eyed joy.

This is our moment and Salem Hopper finally belongs to me.

My wife.

My son’s mother.

My future, my fight, my lady since the day she was born.

My own personal lady luck, and the winning streak that’s coming will be one for the ages.

We kiss breathlessly, our hands pulling at our clothes high and low, until thunder rumbles overhead and we’re doused in a cool, sudden rain. It’s like the universe is urging us to get a room.

Sighing reluctantly, I break away and look up at the sky, then back at Salem. Her swollen lips, her big brown eyes, and the ring glinting on her finger that matches the gold flashing in her gaze.

“We should go tell your family the news,” she says.

“Maybe,” I admit, tugging her back to the house. “But there’s something else I’d rather do more.”

“Patton! What if someone’s watching, they’re probably waiting for—”

“Let them. I want to fuck you, Salem. I want to see that ring on your finger when you grab my cock. I want to feel it on my skin when you’re wrapped around me, begging for dear life.” I bring her in closer so I can rumble the last part in her ear. “And I want to feel it against my fingers when I’m pinning you down, telling you to come for me. Can you do that for me? Can you wear that pretty ring while I mark you tonight?”

Her lips quiver and she nods slowly, too lost for words.

“Later, yes. But we really shouldn’t keep them waiting…”

Smiling, I take her hand, already loving how right that little piece of gold feels on her hand.

It’s only right to give her fair warning about what she’s gotten herself into.

Judging by the shy excitement in her red cheeks, she doesn’t mind at all.